Chapter Forty-One
Beware the love that blooms too late
For timing yields to neither fate
Teddy doesn’t remember closing the door.
He only remembers the moment before it—Rubi’s voice. “Ilyra.”
The name sits wrong in his skull, like a blade driven in sideways. He drags a hand down his face, breath slow, controlled. Too controlled, even for him.
The room is pristine. Unmarked. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. He snaps.
The table goes first. Not in a fit of rage—in precision. One clean strike. Wood splintering under his fist like it was always meant to break.
He’s trained the fucking enemy. Given them tactical plans to attack Dravara, defend against Caeloria. Trained them with weaponry. Built an unbeatable war strategy. Taught them to run into the fray, unafraid and unyielding.
He trained them. Every formation. Every weakness they’ll exploit. Every angle a blade can slice.
Therion Ashborne, General of War of Zerynthia, has built the army he’ll face on the battlefield. And worse still—he built it well.
The chair goes next, fracturing in half under the force of his boot.
He taught them how to win. And now he’ll watch who they use it on. Somewhere beyond his chambers, soldiers are preparing to slaughter Dravara using strategies Teddy himself has perfected over decades. Men and women will die by instincts he placed into their hands.
The silence that follows is worse. Not peace—far from it. Calculation.
He can see them.
Hundreds of soldiers standing in perfect formation beneath Elarion’s sun.
His voice barking commands.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He taught them discipline before they knew confidence. Taught them how to hold a shield wall. How to break one. How to turn hesitation into momentum and momentum into slaughter.
He taught them how to exploit magical affinities. How to isolate a Bloodbond before they could reach striking distance. How to overwhelm a Runewright without ever being touched. How to break the morale of the enemy. How to hold strong together.
Gods.
He taught them where to position artillery along Virellin’s outskirts. Which roads would bottleneck an advancing army. Which gates would fall first if enough pressure was applied.
He taught them how to invade Dravara.
He taught them how to think like him.
The realization lands harder than any blade ever could.
He remembers being proud of them.
He stands there, chest rising slow, eyes fixed on the wreckage. Already thinking three moves ahead. Already adjusting. Because that’s what he does. That’s what he was made to do. Even now. Especially now.
The air shifts—an electric hum like the air before a storm.
A slit forms in the air, and Seren steps through.
His heart beats harder, pounding against his ribcage.
“Seren,” he breathes.
He drags his gaze over her, scanning for injuries. Her hair is wet, pulled back in a braid like she’s just bathed, fresh leathers pulled taut over her skin. Safe.
But…
Her hand.
He closes the gap between them, eyes narrowing on the imprint on her palm.
He reaches for her, eyes fixed on…
“A noose,” he murmurs, his eyes snapping up to hers.
She shrugs. “My mark. For joining The Dreaded, apparently,” she explains simply.
He doesn’t move for a moment. Just studies her. She’s changed so much these last few weeks. Changed before his eyes into someone undeniable, fierce, so sure of her own place in the world.
And Teddy? He isn’t sure of anything.
He moves to pull her in, to press a kiss to her forehead, but her words from days prior slam into his chest.
I ask that you do not touch me while you ask me to wait. Do not give me crumbs when what I deserve is a meal.
He stops himself, trying desperately to respect her wishes.
Seren notices his hesitation, and sadness forms in her eyes. She huffs a soft exhale, and drags her attention across the room. It snags on splintered wood, fractured furniture.
“So Rubi figured it out?” Seren asks, a heaviness to her tone.
Teddy grunts in response. “She showed me Dravara’s import ledgers—no ironsap going in. Which means it’s leaving Nymeris’ docks, and then… secretly disappearing into Dravara’s water supply.”
Seren nods slowly, like she’s calculating and organizing every piece of information. But her attention settles on him, loaded with meaning, like she can see through to the very marrow of him. “None of us knew, Teddy.”
He averts his gaze, intertwining his fingers behind his head, and striding across the room.
“None of you trained their fucking army, Seren,” he snaps.
Seren moves to him, her hand reaching out for him. It grips his forearm, firm and soft at the same time. Different than it was. Callouses and scars mar her hands now, and somehow, it only adds to her. His skin is alight under her touch, brought alive by her.
“She fooled everyone. And Teddy?” Seren’s voice drops low, like whatever she’s about to say will change everything.
“Ilyra is…” she trails off.
“What?” he presses, muscles coiled tight.
“She is Nyrielle.”
His stomach drops.
Bile rises in his throat.
“What? The Goddess of Light and Wonder?” His eyes narrow. He shakes his head trying to make sense of it.
“She paid the witches to keep her here in this place and exile the rest of the pantheon. We’ve been pawns in her game all along. She’s been waiting for the prophecy. For El.”
From nowhere, his body shakes. Trembling under the truth of what he’s done. Who he’s helped. How he’s fucked everything.
“No,” he breathes, his eyes closing. “How didn’t I know? How didn’t I sense her?” He drags his hands through his hair, down his face.
Seren exhales slowly, solemnly. “We’ll never know Teddy. She hid it somehow. A gift from the gods, the Stars playing a sick joke, or something as simple as Obsidian Shards.”
His breath snags in his throat.
Seren grips tighter. “Hey. Hey,” she soothes, pulling him to her, desperate to soothe his torment.
“I spoke to Ronyn—he’s found the dragons. I’ll make the witches join our cause. We have someone on the inside in Caeloria. There’s hope, Teddy. There’s hope.” The words tumble out, but Teddy can hear them for what they are: futile.
His eyes open slowly, dropping to meet Seren’s. “And Kael? Where is he?”
Something shifts in her stance. It turns rigid, like it’s the exact question she doesn’t want to answer.
“Seren. Tell me. Where is Kael?”
She tries to speak, but nothing comes out.
The little restraint Teddy has left snaps.
“Where. Is. He.”
“Maireth has him, Teddy. They have weapons of Aether—shields. They can withstand his magic. He’s… in Caeloria,” she grits out, finally admitting the unbearable truth.
Teddy’s mouth twists into a snarl. Not angry—pained. Tormented. Tortured.
“Maireth tricked them. Lured them there for the Orbs but she never had them. It was all a plan to capture him. Use him against….”
His eyes snap up.
“Elyssara?” he asks, like he’s cataloging everyone.
“Safe.”
Teddy nods.
“I need to get to him,” he snaps.
Seren grips his arms again.
“Not yet. Teddy, please. We’re holding a conclave for those against the north. Tonight. Because as soon as you leave this place… Ilyra will know. She’ll know we know everything. And she’ll come for us. For Dravara. For Zerynthia.” Seren’s words are half-plea, half-promise.
Teddy drops his head back, and a guttural growl rips from his throat, his fists clenched. Because the thought of not protecting his king—his brother—physically pains him.
But slowly, he releases his fists, letting his pulse steady.
He doesn’t look at her. Not yet. Because if he does, he knows exactly what he’ll see: pity. And he can’t bear that.
Seren doesn’t move away. Doesn’t fill the silence. She just… stays. Close enough that he can feel her there. Close enough that it matters.
“Teddy.”
His name lands softly but not tenderly. Steadier than a plea. More intimate than a command.
He exhales slowly, dragging his gaze to hers despite himself.
And there it is.
Not fear. Not doubt. Not even the pity he expected to find. Just her. Unwavering.
“I’m not asking you to do nothing, Teddy,” she breathes. “We’ll make a plan at the conclave with everyone who can help us finish this thing.”
His jaw tightens. “Then what are you asking for?”
Seren steps closer. Closes the space he left between them. “I’m asking you to give me something before we lose everything else.”
A heartbeat passes.
Her hand slides from his forearm to his chest—steady, grounded. Not tentative. Not seeking permission.
Her honey-brown eyes land on his, reaching for him like an anchor in a storm. “I’m sick to death of people deciding what I get to experience and have in this life. I want to choose something for myself.”
Holy fucking Stars.
That lands. Shock courses through his body.
Is she really saying what he thinks she is?
Because despite himself, his failings, he knows he owes Seren this.
Her gaze flicks up to his. Honest. Stripped raw.
“I know what this is,” she says. Her voice doesn’t waver. Not like it used to.
“I know you won’t stay…” His breath catches, almost imperceptible. “I know you won’t stay with me.” Her words come out like a declaration of peace.
She steadies herself, like her composure is a heartbeat from snapping.
“I know you can’t promise me anything.”
There’s no accusation in it, no hurt—just truth.
“And I’m not asking you to.”
She takes another step closer. Close enough that his will is the only thing holding the distance now.
“Just don’t pretend you don’t want me, Teddy.”
Her hand presses into his chest, trails up the column of his throat, and scoops around the back of his neck.
He goes still. Not resisting, just losing the last of his control.
Teddy leans into her, drawn in by the intoxicating aroma of the wild sea and the warm spice of cinnamon.
With her, there is nothing but want. Nothing but the endless pull of her.
“Wanting you is the only thing in this world I’m certain of, Seren,” he admits, his voice dropping into a low, husky register.
She lets out a breathy moan at his words, like the sound of them soothes something restless in her. She pulls on his neck, and his face nestles into the slender curve between her shoulder and neck.