Page 35 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

Eiran pushed open the bedroom door with the usual swagger, expecting her to maybe be brushing her hair, stretched out on the bed, or rolling her eyes at him.

“Xelaini and Jeipier have gone off to do dragon things,” he said as he stepped inside.

“Probably bullying clouds or setting trees on fire with style, bloody typical.”

Silence.

He caught her profile, shoulders tense, gaze fixed on nothing and he stopped cold. The humour drained from his voice. “Maeve?”

Nothing, no smile, no sarcastic jab, no eye roll. Just that awful stillness. He crossed the room carefully and knelt in front of her. It was becoming a habit, him kneeling like this. Something about being low to the ground made it easier to look her in the eye when she was pulling away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, quietly now. “Maeve, love. What’s going on in there?”

The answer came in a breath, followed by a hurricane, a torrent of emotion and uncertainty.

Not shouting, or dramatics, just firm and controlled statements.

Every word chosen, like a knife laid gently on a table before being turned sharp.

She spoke of how she felt, how everything was moving without her.

The saddle. Jeipier. Plans made in her name but not with her.

How she wasn’t a doll to be dressed and flown and gifted things to distract her from the fact that she didn’t know what the fuck was going on most of the time.

She said he was doing that, she said he was treating her like something to be handled.

Her voice was steady, but the pain in it undid him.

She told him she was scared, that she still hadn’t awakened and the magic hadn’t come.

That she didn’t know if it ever would, and that she couldn’t take being a burden.

That the longer she stayed the same, the more she feared she didn’t belong in this world, his world.

She said she was bound, paired, and connected, but it felt as if she was being held, tied, and controlled.

She said she was spiralling, that she thought she was unwell.

Fuck, it cut deep.

Eiran had always thought he was helping, anticipating her needs, shielding her from stress, smoothing the path so she didn’t have to trip, but in doing so, he’d stolen her footing altogether.

He wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but instinct said no.

She was sharing, truly sharing, and he wouldn’t interrupt.

He wouldn’t soothe her into silence, not again.

He stayed stock still, his own breath barely moving in his chest. She continued, voice quieter now and raw.

Vulnerable in a way that flattened him, in fact, it crushed him.

He looked up at her, at the woman he adored, his mate, his match, and for the first time, saw just how lost she felt.

And it wasn’t some enemy that had made her feel that way, it was him.

He felt bereft, utterly mortified. Embarrassed that his protectiveness, his planning, his anticipation and his careful design, looked like control to her. Felt like control.

That it was control.

He felt adrift that she’d questioned her worth, her magic and her belonging. He didn’t care that she hadn’t awakened yet, not even slightly, but she did. He swallowed hard, “Maeve…” His voice came rougher than he intended, cracking at the edges.

But he stopped, he let her sit with her truth.

Let her lead, this wasn’t about him. He would speak when she was ready to hear it, and when he did, it would be the whole truth.

Because that’s what she deserved. Not gifts or plans, just him.

Her voice grew quieter, like wind tugging gently at the edges of something sacred and finally silence hung between them, thick and dreadful.

Eiran exhaled through his nose, clinging to calm.

He knew what he had to say, without charm or comfort.

Just bare truth and he looked up at her with no shields, no smiles, no cleverness.

“Maeve,” he said gently. “You’re right.”

She looked at him, startled by the words already.

“I’ve been handling things. Planning and protecting.

Deciding without asking. It wasn’t meant to take anything from you, but it did.

And for that, I’m so sorry.” He sat back on his heels, hands open between them.

“I love you. I do. But love without respect and choice isn’t love, it’s control.

And I see now that I’ve made you feel like a possession instead of a partner. ”

His voice caught, but he pressed on, honest, raw. “You’re not a passenger in this. You’re not mine to manage. You’re Maeve. The most determined, intelligent, composed and authentic person I’ve ever known. I made you feel like you didn’t have a say in your own life.”

He swallowed, throat thick, pleading for his emotions to settle.

“If you need space, you’ll have it. If you want to go back to Earth to clear your head, I’ll take you.

If you want to leave altogether, I will not stop you.

The separation wont hurt as we’re now bonded.

I will grieve, yes, but I will not stand in your way. ”

She didn’t respond, just looked at him, the cogs of her mind whirring.

“I didn’t understand how different this experience has been for you and I am sorry.

My culture and traditions are so different from yours and I just didn’t think how intensely unfamiliar this would be for you.

” He dared to reach out, just a fraction, fingers ghosting the floor between them.

“You choose what is right for you, and I will back that choice. No matter what it is, I swear.”

She stilled, and for a long, fragile moment. “Please don’t send me away, Eiran,” Maeve whispered, as a single, fat tear slipped down her cheek.

Eiran barely moved, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “May I?” he whispered, hand hovering near her face.

She nodded and he reached up with care, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone to catch the tear, and in that single action, something altered.

There was a current between them, like lightning braided with lace and the Chain ignited.

Not with fire, but with a blinding, searing light of memory and magic, white at the core and edged in gold.

The air around them shimmered, thick with power, and a pulse rolled outward from the point of contact between them, a soundless shockwave thudding through the room like a heartbeat made of thunder and fate.

Golden runes and sigils flared along the length of the Chain, some ancient, others Eiran had never seen before, of promise, sacrifice, and sovereignty.

They glowed like tiny roiling suns, then lifted from the metal, untethering, dancing free in the air like leaves on an invisible current.

They spun around her body, faster and faster, tracing constellations on the walls, casting flashes of light and shadow across Eiran’s stunned face.

The temperature spiked, with heat and intensity.

The air felt pressurised, vibrating with something holy, watchful, as if the gods themselves were bearing witness.

“Maeve!” Eiran shouted, lunging as her body arched backwards with a strangled cry, eyes wide and limbs locked.

She convulsed, caught in the grip of something too ancient, too enormous to name.

She hovered, suspended midair, and the Chain unfurled itself, unravelling from her wrist in molten bands of gold, not dissolving, but transforming.

It coiled up her arm, across her collarbone, around her throat and down her back, fusing to her skin like a second spine.

A circuit of divinity, a living artefact.

Sigils then appeared on her skin, blazing gold, edged in deep violet and glowing red.

They were etched into her like sacred ink, markings of her fight, her choices and her survival.

They crowned her shoulders like pauldrons, spiralled over her ribs in patterns that shimmered and shifted, wrapped down her spine, ancient scripture etched by gods who remembered everything.

The runes and sigils moved, they were alive, in synchrony with her pulse, with the energy surging through her body.

Her hair lifted as though underwater, threaded with strands of light and her mouth opened, but no sound came.

Her fingers splayed, and for a brief instant, Eiran saw lightning ripple beneath her skin, coursing along her veins like molten power.

Her bones glowed faintly, her body was a vessel, not breaking, but becoming.

Eiran could only stare, hands half-raised in reverence and terror.

His mate, his love. She was becoming fae before his eyes, forged not by bloodline, but by will, magic, and pain already endured.

She convulsed once more, glowing brighter, her body wracked with energy that poured from within like a dam breaking.

“No, no, no! Maeve!” He scrambled, gathering her into his arms as her limbs trembled. “Stay with me, please. Look at me, love.”

The runes and sigils returned to the Chain and Maeve’s body slackened against his, she blinked slowly, dazed and her eyes were changed.

Still hazel, but now deeper, luminous, and flecked with amber.

She was glowing faintly, her skin kissed with iridescence, her form subtly altered, taller, more intense and stronger, as though power now hummed just beneath the surface of her.

Fae.

“Oh, gods,” Eiran breathed, utterly undone. “You’re here… you’re you. I love you. I’m so sorry, my love. So, so sorry.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she sagged, her strength gone. He caught her, cradling her carefully against his chest and laid her on the bed as though she were made of starlight and spun sugar.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back.

She smiled weakly.

“All right,” he whispered again, voice raw. “All right, love. Rest. I’ll get help. You’re safe.”

She was already drifting as Eiran stayed with her, hand on her heart, matching its rhythm with his own and the door slammed open. Soren burst in, breathless, his presence crackling with concern. “What in the fuck was that?” he demanded.

“She awakened,” Eiran said hoarsely. “The Chain, it ignited and then she collapsed and she hasn’t moved. ”

Soren froze for a second, eyes locked on Maeve. Then he turned on his heel. “I’m going for Aeilanna. Healers. Magicers. Anyone breathing.”

Seconds later, Fenric appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed and shirt untucked. “What in the ten hells just… Eiran?”

“She’s awakened.” Eiran was still kneeling beside the bed. “I didn’t mean for this… I didn’t know.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Fenric crossed the room and crouched beside him. “All right. Breathe! You’re not exactly new to magic, but this had a blast radius. That’s not your fault, Eiran.”

Eiran looked over at him helplessly. “She wasn’t supposed to…”

Fenric reached out and squeezed his shoulder gently. “She’s tougher than she looks. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think she’s even tougher than you think she is.”

Eiran gave a breathless, pained laugh. “That’s not comforting, Fen.”

“Then consider it a compliment to your taste,” Fenric replied with a crooked grin. “Maeve’s still here. She’s glowing, which is weird, but glowing’s probably better than bleeding.”

The door swung open again and Aeilanna strode in barefoot and wild-eyed, her emerald dress wrinkled, her hair loose around her shoulders, faint sigils glimmering at her wrists.

“I felt her,” she said, voice taut with urgency. “Through the threads of my weaving, something tore open.”

Her eyes dropped to Maeve and she moved towards the bed, her palms already glowing with thin golden thread. “Oh, Mae,” she breathed.

She reached for Maeve, only for Eiran to lurch forwards, arm outstretched. “Don’t touch her.”

“She’s not just yours, Eiran,” Aeilanna’s eyes cut to his, sharp. “I know her, I sat beside her in that cell and I heard things from her I’m sure you haven’t. I watched her break in pain and I watched her hold herself together with nothing. So back off!”

Eiran flinched as if struck and Fenric’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Let her,” he murmured.

Aeilanna didn’t wait. She lowered to the bed, palms hovering just over Maeve’s chest. Fine threads of light spooled from her fingertips, webs of diagnostic spells, stabilising filaments, soft, intricate and sure.

After a breathless pause, she exhaled. “She’s stable.

Her energy is settling, not flaring. The Chain seems to be integrating, but she’s not in danger. ”

Eiran sagged forwards, burying his face in his hands. “Thank the gods.”

But Aeilanna didn’t move away, her hands hovered and eyes narrowed.

“I’ve seen power flares before, but not like this.

Not with the Chain. It didn’t just respond, I think it evolved.

The runes and sigils it cast weren’t all old.

Some were new, ones I’ve never seen. Ones I think she forged, mid-surge. ”

“What does that mean?” Eiran asked, barely daring to look up.

“I don’t know, but it’s not just magic anymore. It’s a relationship. Her connection to the Chain is active. It seems responsive, perhaps sentient.” Aeilanna’s gaze found his again, steady and unflinching. “That’s not something we can understand, not yet at least.”

She sat back on her heels. “I’m writing to the Runekeepers in Eldmire. We need to study this connection, how it formed, what it’s doing to her, and what it could mean. It could be a gift, or it could be a danger.”

Eiran brushed Maeve’s hair from her brow, lips trembling. “She’s not a danger.”

“I know that,” Aeilanna said gently. “But the Chain may be, and it’s better we face that head-on, rather than pretend it’s just a pretty antique bracelet. It may have been kept in the vault for a reason we don’t remember.”

Fenric let out a breath and clapped a hand gently on Eiran’s back.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You didn’t break her. You just witnessed her becoming something more. You saw her light up, that’s terrifying, yeah, but it’s also fucking beautiful.”