Elowen
The room tilts.
That's the first thing I notice—not him, not the shadows, not the cultists freezing where they stand like they've just realized they're already dead.
The tilt.
Like my balance leaves me before my body does.
I suck in a breath and it catches halfway, sharp and useless, because the air suddenly feels too thick. Heavy. Pressed against my skin.
He's here.
I don't turn right away. I can't. If I turn and he's really there, I don't trust myself not to—
I don't even know what.
"Elowen."
My name lands wrong. Too low. Too close.
I turn too fast and the world lurches again.
He's standing a few steps away. Not close enough to touch. Not far enough to breathe. His hands are at his sides, relaxed like this isn't taking everything he has.
That's what hurts.
"You didn't come," I say.
The words tumble out before I can shape them, before I can make them less ugly. Accusation curls through them whether I want it to or not.
Something flickers across his face—gone before I can decide what it was.
"I did."
I shake my head. "That's not—" My throat tightens. "That's not what it felt like."
Silence stretches. Too long. Long enough for my chest to start aching with it.
Then he steps closer.
My body reacts instantly. Heat coils low and sharp, my breath hitching so hard it almost sounds like a sob.
And then—
He stops.
The space between us screams.
I hate that my body leans anyway, like it doesn't understand what's happening, like it expects hands that don't come.
His gaze drops.
Not to my face.
Lower.
Heat floods my cheeks, my stomach tightening painfully.
"Don't," I whisper, though I don't know what I'm asking him not to do.
His jaw tightens. Just a fraction.
"You don't get to say that," he says quietly, "while your body is doing the opposite."
The words hit harder than shouting would have.
"I didn't mean to—" My voice breaks. "I didn't—"
"I know."
That's worse.
Because his voice isn't cruel. It's strained. Like he's holding something back with both hands and his teeth clenched.
"I feel everything," he continues, lower now. "Every time you try to convince yourself you don't."
My knees weaken. I grab the edge of the stone altar without thinking, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt.
He notices.
Of course he does.
For one terrible heartbeat, I think he's going to close the distance. That he's going to touch me and I'll shatter into relief and shame all at once.
He doesn't.
The restraint snaps something inside my chest.
"You're cruel," I whisper.
His breath hitches.
"Yes," he says. "Right now? I am."
Then, quieter—so quiet I'm not sure he meant for me to hear—
"And if I touch you, I won't stop."
The room feels too small. Too hot. My skin hums like it's waiting for something dangerous.
I don't know whether I want to step back or forward.
That's what scares me most.
Kael
Leaving her like that hurts more than staying would have.
That's how I know it's necessary.
I turn away before my control slips—not dramatically, not with fury. Just enough to keep my hands from betraying me.
"You have until dawn," I say, voice steady even as the bond strains hard enough to make my chest ache. "Decide who you're lying to."
Then I'm gone.
Because if I stay another second, I'll choose for her.