Chapter Nineteen
KAEL
Therion’s anger rolls off him like heat from a forge as we ride into the clearing he’s deemed suitable for camp.
He hasn’t looked at me once since we left the last rest stop, and his silence is as sharp as his axe.
We haven’t spoken alone since the outpost. No chance to lay out a plan for the relic hunt.
But Therion doesn’t need words for me to read him.
His anger simmers just below the surface, coiled tight and ready to strike.
Elyssara hasn’t stirred since Seren gave her the lunabark root, and maybe that’s a mercy.
The wound festers, its edges raw and inflamed, though the root keeps her blissfully unaware of the pain.
I slide her down from the horse and into Ronyn’s waiting arms with a curt nod.
“Let her rest somewhere. I’ll prepare her bedroll. ”
Ronyn grins, the ever-present mischief in his expression dulled slightly by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll guard her like she’s my own flesh and blood.”
I glare at him, but there’s no real bite in it. “Just do it.”
With her settled, I make my way toward Therion, who sits slouched against the trunk of a massive tree. He’s tossing rocks at another trunk with deliberate, almost menacing precision. Each stone hits its mark with a dull, echoing thud.
I drop down beside him, the weight of the day pressing into my bones as I lean back and rest my head against the rough bark.
For a moment, we sit in silence, the sounds of the forest filling the space between us—the faint rustle of leaves, the chirp of distant insects, the whisper of wind through the trees.
But the quiet isn’t peace. It’s a pause, a held breath before the storm.
“Brother, what bothers you?” I finally ask, keeping my tone calm, though my patience is already thinning.
Therion turns, his gaze smoldering with barely leashed fury. He doesn’t answer immediately, and when he does, his voice is low and measured, like a blade drawn with care. “This wasn’t the plan.”
I fucking knew this was coming.
I let out a sharp breath, my own frustration rising to meet his. “This was exactly the plan, Ther. Find the Lightborne. Get the compass. Rescue my sister. Take back what’s mine. Free our people.” My voice hardens with every word, and by the end, it’s practically a growl. “We’re fucking doing that.”
“And where does flirting with the Lightborne fit into the plan, huh?” His words cut. “It won’t end well, and you fucking know it. It can’t.”
I know he’s right. It can’t. She’s starting to trust me, but that won’t last. Not when she knows everything.
I meet his gaze, unflinching, the weight of everything I’m carrying pressing down on me like armor. “I haven’t forgotten what we’re here for, if that’s your concern,” I bite.
Therion scoffs, shaking his head. “No? Well, it seems like you’re forgetting fucking everything,” he spits the words, hurling another rock at the tree.
“We agreed—no magic. No signals. No fucking risks. For all we know, Thalmyr’s already sent legions after us.
Maybe Maldrak, too.” His chest rises and falls too quickly.
“Your Lightborne,” he snarls the words like an insult, “has just scorched the entire forest in a blinding fucking light that was the equivalent of a signal flare. It could be seen all the way to Kryntar, for fuck’s sake.
And if they didn’t see it, any magic wielder on the continent felt it.
And if Maldrak felt it, Thalmyr did too—and we don’t want either of them coming! ”
I know he’s right. Stars help me—he’s right. He pushes on, “I fear that you have forgotten what we’re here for, and what the original plan was. Because this, sure as the fucking Stars, is not it,” he pauses briefly, as if measuring his final words. “I see the way you look at her, Kael.”
I rise to my feet, the tension crackling between us like a storm waiting to break. Not for a single heartbeat in ten fucking years have I forgotten my people. So fuck him.
I dust off my leathers, keeping my movements deliberate, and then fix him with a look I reserve for the battlefield—a silent warning that this conversation is over. I’m close to snapping. A single word from him, and I might. But no. Control is my armor. I won’t lose it—to him or anyone.
“Remember your place, Therion,” I say, my voice low and steady. “You’re my brother in every way that counts, but don’t think for a second I’ll hesitate to remind you where you stand the next time you speak to me like a petulant fucking child.” I shove myself up to stand. “You’re on first watch.”
He doesn’t reply, his glare cutting through the dark, but I’ve said my piece. I stalk away, leaving his anger to smolder in the shadows behind me, an ember waiting for the right moment to catch fire.