44. Adelina #3
“I have men moving through trade routes, temple contacts, and Maralis channels. Sylas has his own methods. My father has not made a public inquiry because that could expose anyone hiding her or draw more attention to her, but we are looking.”
I stare at the orchid bed. The soil is dark and still. “If Varek has her,” I whisper, “he will hurt her.”
Kaedryn says nothing for a moment. When he does, his voice has dropped into something colder. “We will find her.”
My eyes lift. For one breath, it makes me feel less alone. The realization unsettles me enough that I look away.
“Adelina…did he hurt you?”
I’m suddenly back in Dravaryn, waiting for the whip to fall, or a fist to land. The words Varek whispered in my ear before I left the castle fill my head.
“You are leaving my walls, not my reach. You still belong to me. Say a word, and Freya pays.”
My heart takes off in a race. It becomes difficult to draw in a full breath. I can’t tell him. Varek will know. He always knows.
A hand closes over mine. “Breathe, Adelina,” Kaedryn’s voice breaks through the ringing in my ears.
I force a breath in.
We sit in quiet for several moments, the tea cooling between us and the wind moving softly through the silver leaves.
Then he says, “One day, you will tell me what happened in that castle. And I will make every single person pay for what they have done to you.”
His shadows curl around our hands and his arms. Slowly, the panic leaves me.
“I have to leave the castle for a few days,” Kaedryn says, slowly pulling his hands away.
The words strike strangely. At first, they bring relief. Then fear. Then something else I can’t name.
“Leave?” I ask.
“There is a route north of the lake we need to inspect. Someone using one of the false identities tied to Zerathian spies passed through a border manor under an Elyrion seal. Rowan and Merritt leave tonight to question the household to make sure your brother isn’t up to something. I’m going with them.”
My fingers curl in my lap.
Away. He is going away.
Part of me relaxes because his presence is too large, too watchful, too able to see through answers I have survived years by giving.
Part of me fears it because it feels like one less wall protecting me from Varek. And the strange tug has been more persistent since our last garden visit. When I’m away from him, it begs for him.
“How long?” I ask.
“A week at most.”
The garden brightens too sharply around me. “I see.”
His eyes narrow. “My mother will be here. Sylas will be here. Maelin and Soren as well. Your guards will remain under my authority, and Kellan will oversee the east wing personally.”
So many protections. So many walls.
“That’s…very thorough,” I say.
His brow furrows. “That’s not what you wanted to say.”
The truth rises. “I’m not sure what I wanted to say.”
That, at least, is honest.
Something in his expression softens, though on him softness looks like severity with the blade lowered. “I won’t be gone longer than necessary.”
I nod.
He leans forward slightly. “If anything happens, you must tell my mother, Sylas, or Maelin. Immediately.”
“Yes.” The word comes from habit.
“Adelina.”
I look at him.
“Immediately.” The command brushes the air between us. Familiar enough that my body recognizes it. But this time, beneath the command, I hear and feel something else.
Fear. His, not mine.
“I will try,” I say.
The answer does not satisfy him. He sits back, jaw tight, and for a moment I think he will correct me. Demand more. Extract a promise polished enough to ease his fear.
Instead, he nods once.
The wind lifts a strand of hair against my cheek. Before I can catch it, one of his shadows rises from beneath the table and hovers near my shoulder, then stops. Waiting.
I stare at it.
Kaedryn watches me intently. “It will not touch you unless you allow it.”
The shadow curls back slightly.
My heart beats too hard. The shadow should terrify me. It belongs to him. It is dark, living, powerful enough to bind and shield and drag a room into night. But it waits with more patience than most people have ever given me. And it is beautiful, black but with a blue-green tint to it.
Slowly, I lift my hand. The shadow filters through my fingers before it brushes the loose strand away from my cheek with a touch softer than a breath of wind. Then it retreats.
I lower my hand to my lap, unsettled by the warmth moving through my chest and much lower.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His voice is rough when he answers. “You’re welcome.”
For a little while longer, we sit beside the planted ice orchids, drinking tea while sunlight moves across the garden stones.
He does not smile again. He remains serious, watchful, brooding in the way that makes the air feel shaped around him. But when he pours more tea, he remembers I take more honey than he does. When I look toward the orchids, he follows my gaze without telling me they will grow.
When silence returns, he lets it be silence.
And when I think of him leaving, I cannot decide whether the feeling inside me is relief, fear, or the first fragile ache of wanting someone to stay.