Chapter 94 – Quinton
QUINTON
Forest. The scent of pine needles, damp earth, and moss. It felt like rain-soaked soil cradling my body, rich and alive.
My eyes opened. A pale stone ceiling stretched above me, with warded arches lined in softly glowing runes. Tempest’s healing wing. I was tucked under a clean blanket, the cot beneath me firmer than I remembered. I inhaled deeply.
Fuck. I felt good. The ache in my limbs was gone. The burn behind my eyes had faded. Even the raw pull of overused magic was quieted. My blood no longer throbbed with that restless, spiraling fury. Instead, it hummed like a river settling into its bed.
What the fuck happened?
The last thing I remembered was that chair beside Azaria’s bed, gripping her hand like it was the only thing tethering me to this world. The forest came back next—Azaria crumpled and broken on the ground, her body mangled. Kalias’s magic feeding into mine like roots burrowing into earth.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I shoved the blanket aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. There was a faint thrum under my skin, like magic still moving through me, but it wasn’t just mine—something else was under my skin too. It left a residue in my blood, a pulse that smelled faintly of pine, mist, and deep soil.
Kalias.
He’d used his magic on me. That bastard actually put me to sleep.
I huffed. I wasn’t even mad about it. Whatever he did, it worked—I hadn’t felt this alive in weeks, but…
how long had I been out? I looked for clues, glancing outside.
The sky beyond the ward windows was dim—late afternoon, maybe.
There was an empty cot to my left and a familiar jacket folded neatly on the chair. No clock.
I sat there, breathing in the unfamiliar stillness, and then her words came back to me:
I love you.
The words replayed in my head, over and over. She hadn’t said them softly. She hadn’t hesitated. They were steady, certain, true. And the force of them hit me all at once.
Because I loved her too.
Maybe I had for longer than I wanted to admit. Maybe from the first time she stood her ground against me without saying a word. I had been shaped for pain, for control, for survival. Not for this. Not for love that could split me open just by being spoken aloud.
But when I saw her again, I would tell her. I would say it back. And I would make sure she felt it—in my hands, in my choices, in every damn thing I did.
I stood up, already moving. I rolled out my shoulders, testing the strength in them. My magic flared gently, but it wasn’t frantic or sharp anymore. For once, everything inside me was still. But I wouldn’t be, not until I saw her.
Hold on, Sweetheart. I’m coming.
That hallway was too fucking long. My magic stirred, restless despite the calm, bracing for whatever I’d find when I opened that door. I stopped in the doorway, looking at her.
She was sitting up. Bandaged, yes, wrapped in fresh linen and propped by pillows—but awake. Her skin had color again. Her golden hair was brushed back. She looked bright. Strong. Not like the broken body we’d dragged through the forest.
Kalias’s wolf was curled at the foot of her bed, massive and silver-coated, watching everything with eerie awareness. Dain was perched on the edge of her bed, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth when he saw me. I looked at Dain, then the wolf.
I narrowed my eyes at the beast. I know what you did.
The wolf huffed out a lazy exhale, clearly unbothered. Still, I murmured quietly, for him alone, “Thank you.”
“Look who finally decided to rejoin us,” Dain said, that teasing edge in his voice I hadn’t heard in forever. “You’ve been out nearly two days, Thornvale. Thought we’d have to splash cold water on you.”
Two days? No wonder I felt like I could run to Solmarin and back. Kalias didn’t knock me out—he rebuilt me from the inside out.
But none of that mattered. Because Azaria’s eyes—clear and bright—were locked on me.
Her hand was already reaching, fingers curling slightly in the air.
I didn’t make her wait. I crossed the room in three strides, leaned down, and cupped her face in both hands.
My thumbs swept along her cheekbones as I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a long, steady breath.
She exhaled softly, her shoulders sinking with it. I drew back enough to meet her gaze, and gods, the smile waiting there stole the breath straight from my lungs.
“How?” I managed.
Dain’s smile softened. “Kalias.”
I glanced again at the silver wolf, who pointedly looked away.
I was still holding her hand when I finally asked, “What happened?”
Her fingers tightened in mine. I saw the memory flicker in her eyes. “It was quiet. Too quiet. The concealment spell cloaked everything. My artifacts didn’t even respond. They hit hard and fast before I could draw a blade.”
My grip tightened instinctively. Hearing it made my blood boil. She looked at me, and there was a trace of guilt in her eyes, like she was the one who failed. Before I could say anything, the door opened. Azaria stiffened immediately. I turned, already half-standing, hand moving toward?—
Theran Sylvenhart. Her father.
I settled back slowly, but didn’t let go of her hand.
His presence filled the room, not because he tried, but because he was that kind of man.
Still in his work robes, shoulders square, steps measured.
His eyes swept over the scene: me sitting beside her, Dain leaning against the bedpost, and Kalias’s wolf lying like a silver guardian near the bed.
There was a pause. Something cold flickered behind his gaze before he spoke. “She needs quiet. And rest.” Then his eyes dropped to the wolf. “And a healing ward is no place for an animal.”
I felt Azaria tense next to me, but this time, it was different. It was a steel wall slamming into place. Her voice sliced the air. “Kalias stays.”
Fuck.
I’d heard her command the squad before, barking orders in the chaos of battle. But this? This was something else.
Theran straightened, clearly not expecting that tone. But instead of snapping back, he approached carefully. “I didn’t mean disrespect,” he said calmly. “I only meant to ensure your environment is?—“
“I’m aware of what you meant,” she cut in. Her posture didn’t shift. Her expression didn’t move. But every line of her body screamed tension.
I glanced at Dain. He met my eyes briefly, then looked away. So this was what their relationship looked like.
Theran’s voice changed, more careful now. “I’d like to speak with my daughter. Alone.”
I looked to Azaria immediately, ready to push back if she wanted me to, but she turned to Kalias instead. Her tone softened, barely.
“Kalias. It’s all right.”
The wolf’s ears twitched. He didn’t move at first.
But then she added, a little gentler, “Please.”
He stood slowly, his massive form brushing past me. As he exited, he pressed his body lightly against mine. I didn’t know if it was a warning or an acknowledgement, but I nodded anyway.
Dain gave me a look, a quiet signal, and stepped out next. I followed. Before I reached the door, I glanced back one more time. Azaria hadn’t looked away from her father. Her jaw was set like flint. And for the first time, I realized—this wasn’t tension.
This was history, and I was about to see what it looked like when she had to face her father not as a daughter but as a disappointment.