Chapter 19
Elira
Slade was pacing.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
His movements were sharp—erratic, tense. He knocked into a table, cursed, then grabbed a vase and hurled it across the room.
It shattered against the stone floor, pieces skittering like teeth. His face was pale, carved in shadow—but his eyes were blazing.
I didn’t move. I just sat on the bed and waited.
“This isn’t your fault, grumpy bear.” I said quietly, “my life is what it is.”
A shrug would’ve hurt less than admitting how tired I was, but I said it anyway.
He didn’t look at me right away.
“It’s not fair,” he muttered. “None of it.”
I gave a tired half-smile. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He crossed the room slowly and crouched in front of me, forearms resting on his knees.
His eyes searched my face like he was still trying to find bruises he couldn’t see.
“You shouldn’t have had to say all that,” he said. “Not to him.”
I looked down at my hands. “I had to say it to someone eventually. Why not him?” I lay back on the bed. “I’m not mad about it. At least not anymore. What can be done now? Nothing.”
He finally calmed enough to sit beside me. “It doesn’t make this right.”
“No. I mean… look, I’m still here. Still standing. Kind of. I’m coping—better than I was, anyway.”
It sounded braver than it felt, but I wanted him to believe it.
“And I get where he’s coming from, I do. But …I’m never going to be what they want me to be. Not Syrena, not anyone. And I own that. I am me. Whoever that is.”
“I know who you are,” he said finally.
“Do you? And who am I?” I smiled at him—wry, uncertain, a little tired.
Slade didn’t smile back.
“You’re a girl made of fire and shadow,” he said, voice low and steady. “A girl who walked through hell and survived it.”
Each word landed like it mattered. Like he meant every one.
“You’re someone I’m honoured to stand beside. No matter where we are.”
He paused—long enough for the silence between us to hum with meaning.
“I would stand with you forever.”
I looked away, my throat tight.
“Don’t say things like that,” I whispered. “You’ll make me believe them.”
“I hope you do,” he said. “Because they’re true.”
I reached up, fingertips brushing his jaw. The stubble beneath was rough, warm. Solid.
He leaned into my touch with quiet hunger, like he hadn’t realized how badly he needed it until now.
Then he moved—just a little—closer, his forehead dipping to rest against mine. The gesture was tender. Intimate.
I breathed him in. He smelled like ash and steel and something earthy—something that settled low in my stomach.
My hand moved, slow and deliberate. Down his cheek. Along the curve of his neck. Across the edge of his collarbone where skin met fabric. His breath hitched. Just a little.
He turned toward my touch like he didn’t want to miss a second of it.
One breath.
Two.
The space between us thrummed with the possibility of more.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes had changed.
Softer. Darker. Hungry, but holding back.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask.
He just leaned in—and kissed me.
Not a question. Not a rush. Just truth, pressed warm to my mouth.
His lips moved against mine with a kind of quiet certainty, the kind that said he’d been holding back for a long time.
The kiss lingered—long enough to make my breath catch, long enough for his fingers to tighten at my waist like he couldn’t quite help it.
My hand curled against his chest. My whole body lit up with it—this slow, steady burn.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested gently against mine. His breath was unsteady.
I felt it low in my belly. A slow, rising heat that made my skin ache for more.
That one kiss—simple, restrained—set fire to something I didn’t know I’d been holding back.
And it meant everything.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For staying. For not… giving up on me.”
I hesitated, fingers tightening at his sleeve.
“I hope you know how much that means. Even if I don’t always say it right.”
His smile was small, but real.
“Well, you may not realise this,” he said, “but I like being around you.”
That made something inside me flutter—something soft and uncertain.
He sat beside me, and I leaned into him—body heavy, but heart just a little lighter.
His arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me close. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
I felt his breath near my temple—warm, steady. The solid line of his body against mine. The slow, grounded rhythm of him.
Gods, he was so still. So steady.
Like he could hold the world still if I asked him to.
For a moment, we just breathed. My fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, then found the space where it had pulled loose from his belt. I let them drift beneath—just lightly. Skin to skin. His stomach tensed beneath my touch.
He didn’t stop me.
I didn’t pull away.
Then I asked quietly, “Where do you think the others went?”
“I saw Maddie chase out Leo. Phoenix probably went to the library.”
“He’s been acting a little weird. They both have.” I said, trying to sound casual, but the words came out heavier. Slade chuffed out a soft laugh.
“Have they?” he asked, smiling, but his voice was low. Warmer.
“So you aren’t going to tell me. Figures.”
“Talk to them.”
“I tried. Phoenix got all defensive,” I muttered. “And Leo—he hasn’t been around much.”
Slade leaned his head back against the wall, his voice quieter now.
“They’re trying. In their own ways. But they’re not sure where they stand anymore.”
“Because of me?” I asked.
“Because they care,” he corrected. “And they don’t want to push you. But they’re scared. You disappearing, nearly dying, coming back changed... it scared all of us.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. They do too.”
His hand found mine where it rested against his ribs. He didn’t lace our fingers—he just covered mine with his, warm and still. Grounding.
I hesitated. “Is it because of Thorne?”
Slade didn’t answer right away.
“Maybe a little,” he said finally. “We don’t know what he’ll be like when we find him.”
My stomach twisted. My other hand shifted—slowly, instinctively—up his chest.
I felt the curve of his collarbone, the quiet strength beneath it. The faint flutter of his pulse.
He watched me. Didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
“What did Lacey say about it?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“No one’s seen him. But…”
He exhaled, jaw tight. “The Sentinels and the Shades—they’re not who they were. They’re a militia now. Organized. Ruthless. They’ve been systematically ransacking Varrowmere. Clearing out strongholds. Cracking down on anyone with magic.”
“Looking for us,” I said.
He nodded.
“When we get to the garrison and face Vael’s forces… then what?”
“Hopefully we knock them back,” Slade said. “But…”
I sat up straighter.
“But what?”
“There’s a rumour. That Vael and Ashton have been meeting. That they’ve called a ceasefire.”
My mouth went dry. “What? Why?”
“Because…” Slade exhaled. “They might be building an alliance.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.”
“Do we have enough soldiers?”
“That’s the question.” He paused. “I hope so.”
“Does Phoenix know?”
Slade nodded. “Why do you think he’s been up every night? Strategizing. Running numbers. Mapping scenarios.”
“I didn’t realise.”
“He thinks he has to fix it. All of it. Like it’s on him to carry the outcome.”
“But that’s not fair,” I said quietly.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
Silence again. But this one was different.
I felt it in my fingertips—where they still rested against his chest.
I let them trail down just slightly. Just enough to feel the shift of his breath.
His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unreadable. His hand tightened slightly over mine.
“I don’t want you to be alone in this,” I whispered.
“I’m not,” he said.
Still, he didn’t move.
But I could feel it in him—that tremor beneath the surface, like a fault line about to give.
I leaned in slowly, not to kiss him this time, but to rest my head on his shoulder, my hand still warm against his chest.
We didn’t speak.
But the silence between us wasn’t empty.
It was heavy with everything we hadn’t said.
Everything we still might.