Page 45

Kaia

I wake to gray light and the weight of my own choices.

Malrik's arm is still draped across my waist, his breathing deep and even against my hair. The lake laps gently at the shore below us, and my shadows drift nearby, quiet but alert—watchful, as if waiting.

But I'm not.

With the magic settled and our bond humming warm and solid in my chest, the guilt hits like a sucker punch to the ribs. Not about Malrik. Never about Malrik. But about what came before. About what's still unresolved.

About Finn.

I dress silently in the pre-dawn darkness, careful not to wake him. My shadows stir at my feet, sensing my tension, but I wave them back. I need space. Need to think without anyone watching, without the weight of their concern crawling under my skin.

I slip from camp before anyone stirs, taking Enif and riding toward the head of our column where the scouts range ahead. The rhythmic beat of her hooves helps quiet the storm in my head, but it doesn't silence Callum's words.

You were never supposed to choose him. You were supposed to need him.

My stomach twists into knots. The bond with Darian that I've been fighting, denying, trying to bury beneath the others—it pulses like an infected wound, demanding attention I don't want to give it.

Ahead, I catch the low murmur of voices. Kieran and Revna, scouting the path forward, their conversation carrying on the morning air.

"—was never about what I wanted," Kieran is saying, his voice quieter than I've ever heard it. "It was about what would keep her alive."

"Even if it meant she'd never forgive you?" Revna's response is gentle but pointed.

A long pause. Then, so quietly I almost miss it: "Especially then."

The words stop me cold. I pull Enif to a halt, hidden behind a cluster of pine trees, and listen to my heart hammer against my ribs.

He never looked proud of the bond he forced. Just resigned. Just tired. And maybe I never saw him clearly—maybe I didn't want to.

I ride in silence after that, Callum's accusations and Kieran's admission tangle like barbed wire in my brain. Is anything real? Are any of my choices actually mine, or am I just following a script written before I was born?

The question sits in my gut like swallowed glass until we stop for the midday meal.

I find them gathered in a loose circle near the edge of camp—Aspen, Malrik, Torric, and Finn, passing around travel bread and dried meat.

They look up as I approach, and something in their expressions tells me they've been talking about me.

"Everything alright?" Aspen asks, his ice-blue eyes scanning my face with that annoying ability to see through my bullshit .

I settle cross-legged between Finn and Malrik, dragging my shadows close like armor. "I need to tell you what Callum said last night."

The atmosphere shifts immediately, tension crackling between us like static before a storm.

"When did you talk to Callum?" Torric's voice is sharp, already shifting toward protective mode.

"At the lake. While I was..." Heat crawls up my neck. "Bathing."

The reaction is immediate and explosive.

"He what ?" Torric surges to his feet, flames literally licking around his shoulders. "That piece of shit cornered you while you were—"

"Where the fuck was his patrol supposed to be?" Aspen's voice has gone deadly quiet, which is somehow worse than Torric's shouting. Ice spreads from his feet in sharp, angry patterns.

"Guys—"

“I’m going to rip his fucking throat out,” Torric snarls, already halfway to standing before Malrik’s shadows whip forward like a leash.

"Get in line," Malrik says, his shadows writhing around him like living weapons.

Even Finn looks murderous, his usual humor nowhere to be found. "What exactly did that bastard say to you?"

I hold up my hands, trying to calm them down before they march off to commit actual murder. "He said Darian was my final bond. That the choice was never mine. That it was decided before I was born."

The words hit like a bomb going off. Aspen stiffens, ice condensing around his hands. Torric's cursing becomes more creative and violent. Malrik watches me carefully, letting the others react first .

But it's Finn who leans forward, his voice unexpectedly gentle despite the fury still burning in his eyes: "That's bullshit, Kaia. Bonds respond to you . Not the other way around."

"But what if—"

"No." Malrik's voice cuts through my spiral. "Your magic didn't settle until you made the choice to bond with me. With us. That wasn't fate, that was you."

“Was it?” I say, bitter. “Or was I always going to end up here, no matter what I wanted?”

"Does it matter?" Torric demands, his golden eyes blazing. "You chose. That's what counts."

I want to believe them. Want to trust that the warmth in my chest when I look at each of them is real, not some cosmic manipulation I'm too blind to see.

"I don't want to be told what I'm meant for," I say, the words scraping my throat raw. "I want to choose it. I want to choose you ."

The words hang in the air like a promise and a threat. Malrik's hand finds mine, steady and warm. Aspen's expression softens. Torric nods once, fierce and certain.

And Finn... Finn looks away.

After the others scatter to prepare for the afternoon's ride, Finn lingers. He sits beside me quietly, pulling at the hem of his shirt like he's trying to find words that won't explode in his face.

"So... uh. You and Malrik," he says finally.

"Yeah." I wait for the rest, for whatever's churning behind his green eyes.

“Right. You and Malrik. Makes sense. I mean, if you’re gonna go for emotionally devastating, might as well go all in. ”

I snort despite myself, the tension breaking just enough for me to breathe. He grins—then sobers, the humor draining from his face like water through a cracked cup.

"I keep trying to figure out when I stopped showing up for you," he says, his voice softer than I'm used to hearing. "You're not hard to love, Kaia. Just easy to lose if you're stupid enough to blink."

My heart does something complicated. He's close to something real, something that matters, and I lean forward despite myself. "Finn—"

But he's already pulling back, slipping into humor before things get too honest. "Anyway. Gotta go make sure Bob hasn't unionized your shadow army again. Carry on with your royal water sex or whatever."

He leaves with a crooked smile, but his bond hums low and wounded in my chest. I watch him walk away, noting the careful distance he maintains, the way he always flinches away from the truth.

He's trying. I know he's trying. But it's not enough.

I stare out over the tree line as the sun begins its descent toward the mountains, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. My shadows drift around my feet, restless and pissed off, mirroring the mess in my head.

I thought bonding with Malrik would fix this clusterfuck in my brain. That choosing one of them—choosing any of them—would prove that my heart was mine to give.

But nothing's simple anymore. Not love. Not magic. Not fate.

Especially not the bond that's still waiting for me at the edge of everything I can't forgive.

The incomplete connection throbs like a bruise I can't stop pressing, and I want to scream at it to just fuck off already.

Soon, I'll have to face it. Face him .

But not today. Today I can pretend I'm not completely screwed.

Even if deep down, I’m starting to wonder if the only choice I ever had was how fast to fall.