Page 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

“Did you hear that time?”

A huff of amusement is Solan’s initial answer. “No, Jack.” He nuzzles my neck.

For the past hour since we woke—still too early for Jamie to be racing around—I’ve been testing the whole “read my thoughts” thing that Solan previously mentioned.

Something clearly got mixed up in translation, which, honestly, thank fuck for that.

Solan can’t simply read my thoughts, and I can’t his. And if I could, he’d be thinking in Pyronoxian anyway, right? Unless being bonded transcends the need for thought translations. And if not, it would mean I wouldn’t understand a bloody thing. But I’ve been “thinking” everything from the lyrics to “Down Under” to memories on the farm to my days as a trainee firefighter. Each time, what Solan’s received are impressions of emotions—the key feeling linked to whatever I’m thinking.

“Talking” directly to him, however, mind to mind is a whole new ball game.

It took exactly two seconds for me to open up the pathway to speak to him in my mind. The words, the first time and every time since, have reached him in a flash. I don’t know how exactly I do it, or even what the difference is between random thoughts and speaking to him—intention maybe—but it works, which is bloody awesome.

It’s also a lot less intimidating or worrying than I’d thought just yesterday when he told me more about our bond.

“Okay, try again,” I say, half grinning as I shift closer to him.

“Jack,” Solan groans, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his low, gravelly tone. “You are relentless.”

“You love it.”

“Perhaps.”

He’s toying with me now. I can feel his affection mingling with his amusement through the bond, and it makes me grin. I close my eyes, focussing on sending him a clear message: “I’m starving. Breakfast soon?”

His answering laugh is a rich rumble that vibrates against my chest. “You could just say that aloud, you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” I tease, rolling onto my back. The movement makes me more aware of that strange thrumming sensation in my skin. It’s been there since last night, when the bond snapped into place, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

I frown, focussing on the energy. It feels warm, like it wants to move outwards, and I… push at it?

The bed bursts into flames.

“Shit!” I yelp, scrambling to my knees as the fire licks at the sheets.

Solan is already moving, laughing so hard, he’s practically wheezing. He grabs the jug of water from the table to the side of the room and douses the flames in one swift motion.

The fire goes out, leaving the sheets scorched and steaming. The mattress, miraculously, seems salvageable.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, horrified. “I didn’t even know I could do that!”

Solan sets the jug down, still laughing, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. “You truly are a marvel, Jack.”

“Marvel? I just set the bloody bed on fire!” I gesture at the ruined sheets.

“Yes,” he says, still chuckling. “But you did it with such enthusiasm.”

I groan, rubbing my face with my palm. “This is not how I imagined testing my new abilities.”

Solan sits beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. His tendrils, still slightly damp from the water splash, wrap around me soothingly. “When I was young, my flames first emerged while I was hunting with my father,” he says, his voice warm with nostalgia.

“Yeah?”

He grins, his sharp fangs catching the morning light. “I got… excited and set an entire field of halyse ablaze.”

“Oh shit,” I say, horrified but unable to suppress a laugh. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what halyse is. I can read between the lines.

“My father was not pleased,” he continues, his expression turning sheepish. “He said I was lucky the elders didn’t banish us from the village.”

“Well, at least you didn’t burn your own bed,” I mutter, glaring at the ruined sheets.

Solan’s laughter booms again, and I form a smirk.

“I think we might need flameproof everything if this keeps up,” I say. “Do you reckon the rebels are desperate enough for our help to give us fireproof accommodation?”

Solan raises an eyebrow, his expression sly. “We’ll have to see. In the meantime….” His gaze dips to my bare chest, and the bond hums with a wave of heat and affection.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, though I can’t keep the smile off my face. “We’ve got to get dressed before Jamie rocks up.”

As if on cue, the faint sound of movement echoes from the other side of the building.

“See?” I say, scrambling for my jeans. Fuck, hearing that means there’s little doubt Calythra heard us last night.

Solan moves with far more grace, pulling on his leather kilt and strapping it in place.

I pause, my mouth going dry as I realise he’s going commando. Again.

“Do you have to?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at his kilt.

His golden eyes gleam with mischief. “Do I have to what?”

“Never mind,” I mutter, yanking on my jeans and shirt. It’s a little torn from yesterday’s scuffle, but it’s clean, so it’ll do.

When Solan straps on his leather chest harness and weapons, I feel a twinge of possessiveness. The way he looks is… distracting. And if anyone else notices, I might actually lose my mind.

“Jack,” Solan says, his voice low, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re staring.”

“Am not,” I mumble, turning away to find my boots.

He chuckles, and I feel his amusement through the bond.

By the time we make it to the main room, Jamie is sitting at the table, looking far too awake for this early in the morning. Calythra is standing nearby, a plate of food in hand.

“Morning,” Jamie chirps, his smile wide.

I breathe a sigh of relief. He looks good—better than he has in days. “Morning, kid.”

Calythra passes me a plate, a smile aimed our way. “We need to move soon. The leader is expecting us so he can take us to the camp.”

I nod, glancing at Solan. “What do you think?”

He settles into a chair beside me, his tendrils brushing lightly against my arm. “I think we’ll need to be cautious. The rebels may need our help, but their priorities might not align with ours.”

I nod, taking a bite of the surprisingly decent food. “Our priority is keeping Jamie safe.”

“Agreed,” Solan says, his golden eyes serious. “And you,” he tags on in my mind.

Jamie looks between us, his expression a mix of curiosity and determination. “You think they’ll really trust us and want us here?”

Calythra snorts. “Trust is a luxury we can’t afford right now. Prove ourselves useful, and they’ll keep us around.”

“Awesome,” I mutter, earning a smirk from Calythra. I then glance at Solan and say to him through our link, “I think Jamie being human and our bond is enough to make them keep us around.”

He answers with a grunt in my mind, one of clear agreement but a whole lot pissed off. Solan glances at me and says aloud, “We need to find out more about their plans. A rebellion has a score, right?”

“Score?” It takes a beat. “Goal?” At his nod, I say, “Yes. They don’t seem to simply want to live out their days peacefully outside of the sovereign’s rule. You know, like a separate state or something”

“Agreed.” Calythra bobs his head. “From the maps and parchment I saw yesterday, they have a plan to take down the monarchy.”

“Shit, really?” Panic claws at my chest. I don’t want any of us to be in the thick of that.

“From what I can tell. I only saw a few sheets, but it doesn’t seem like they’re only looking for separation, nor is it just about saving those who came through the merges over the years.”

“They couldn’t possibly take down a whole monarchy, right?” I look at Calythra, then Solan. To do such a thing would be all-out war. Human history has taught me that. “Based on the headquarters alone, it doesn’t seem like they’d have the capacity or numbers to do that.”

Solan answers, “Remember, we only saw what they wanted us to see. We don’t know their true strength or numbers.”

“Maybe we should just leave.”

I startle at Jamie’s words, a pang of emotion smacking me in the chest that he’s listening and involved in such discussions. But he’s also not wrong.

“This is a big world, right?” I ask Solan. Hell, are there other continents or at least different land masses? Are there oceans? I could kick myself for not paying better attention to the maps littered around the rebel HQ yesterday. “We could go somewhere else, find a place to live, to be safe, away from… everything?”

Solan’s expression darkens, but it’s Calythra who speaks first. “Where, exactly, would you go?”

I frown, the question hitting me harder than I’d expected. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere far from all of this.”

“And how would you get there?” Calythra’s tone is matter-of-fact, cutting through my flimsy hopes like a blade. “You don’t know this world. You don’t know its dangers.”

I bristle, but Solan’s hand on my arm stops me from snapping back. His voice, calm and steady, cuts through the tension. “Jack, this world isn’t like yours. The dangers aren’t just in the people. They’re in the land, the waters, the very air you breathe in some places.”

Jamie shifts uneasily in his seat. “But we have tons of deadly creatures in Australia. Right, Uncle Jack?”

Solan exhales, his golden eyes locking onto Jamie with a seriousness that makes my heart ache. “It’s a little different here. There are three main land masses in this world. This one—” He gestures vaguely. “—is the only habitable one. The Green Waters separate the condiments, but they’re filled with creatures so large, they could swallow a water vessel whole.”

Continents . Shit, and only one can be lived on.

“Wait, what? Like, something big enough to take down a giant ship?” Jamie’s voice rises slightly, his face paling.

“Think of them like the monsters in your big waters,” Solan continues, his tone grim. “But worse. Much worse.”

I think back to the klaustras on the first day in Terrafeara and struggle to hold back a shudder.

Jamie’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he resembles his mother so much, it hurts to look at him. “And the other countries?”

I exhale a heavy breath, feeling a knot tighten in my gut. “Solan’s right. Leaving isn’t an option. Not if we’re talking about crossing the ocean.” I glance at Solan, then Calythra. “What about the land?” I ask, backing Jamie’s request for more information about what he called “countries.” I have a feeling things work very differently here and that everything is governed by a single monarchy. “You said there are three land masses. What about the others?”

Calythra answers this time, his voice low and grim. “One’s a wasteland. Too wild and dangerous for anything to survive for long. The other is plagued by earth fire and shakes.”

Jamie blinks, clearly confused. “Earth fire?”

It takes me a beat to figure out what Calythra means. “Volcanoes,” I say, my voice quiet. “And shakes are earthquakes.” Or at least I think so.

The realisation dawns on him, and his face falls. “So… this is really the only place we can stay?”

Calythra smiles, the expression kind. “I’m afraid so, kid.”

I slump back in my seat, the weight of our reality pressing down on me like a physical thing. My chest feels tight, my mind racing with all the possibilities—none of them good. “Brilliant,” I mumble, deadpan. “So, what? We’re stuck here, dodging a tyrant queen and hoping not to piss off the wrong people?”

“Basically,” Calythra says with a shrug.

“Encouraging,” I grumble, earning another sharp-toothed grin from him.

Jamie’s voice, quieter this time, pulls me from my spiralling thoughts. “Someone has to stop her, right? If she took people and is making them do bad things for her. She’s using them as slaves, right, Uncle Jack? We did a whole project at school, and Mr Johns said….” He pauses, his brow furrowing as he searches for the exact words. “He said slavery isn’t just about chains and whips. It’s when people get treated like they’re not people. Like they don’t matter. It’s the worst thing you can do to someone. And if no one stops her, it’s like saying it’s okay, right?”

His words hang in the air, heavy and sharp, cutting through my haze of worry. I glance at Solan, whose golden eyes are focussed on Jamie with an intensity I can’t quite place. Calythra, too, has stilled, his usual smirk replaced by something unreadable.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and force myself to respond even as my chest tightens at the weight of Jamie’s understanding. “You’re right, mate. It’s not okay. It’s never okay.”

Jamie’s gaze meets mine, steady and unflinching. “So… someone has to stop her,” he says again, the quiet determination in his voice making it clear that he’s not asking this time. He’s telling me.

His words hang in the air, heavy with the kind of idealism that only comes from youth. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that it’s not our fight, but the truth is, I don’t know if I believe that myself.

I place a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s focus on staying alive first, yeah?”

He nods reluctantly, but I can tell the fire in him hasn’t dimmed.

The conversation shifts to plans and next steps as we finish our meal. Solan and I exchange glances, the unspoken understanding between us clear—we need to tread carefully with Varek. I’m about to suggest we start preparing when a thought hits me, sharp and unwelcome.

“Wait,” I say, pausing mid-motion. “If we’re going to talk to Varek about staying and helping… what’s their plan for us all?” Yesterday, Varek didn’t disguise the hard-on he had that he was welcoming a fated pair or a young human. But I refuse to be used as a pawn or for our growing power.

“We’ll make it clear that our priority is Jamie’s safety,” Solan says. “And yours, always,” Solan adds in my mind, his tone firm.

It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, mine too. But that means us and no one trying to abuse our bonded power.” It takes everything in me not to add air quotes to “power” as I think the word. That wouldn’t earn me any strange looks. Not . Sure, I can set a bed on fire, but the rest is hard to grasp and come to terms with.

Solan’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stands, his broad frame casting a shadow over the small table. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Varek’s quarters feels longer than it should, tension thick in the air. Calythra’s presence is a steadying one. Jamie stays close, his yabbering about everything he sees and everything else on his mind a contrast to the heavy mood.

And Solan…. Hell, I couldn’t do any of this without him or his gentle waves of reassurance travelling through our bond.

When we arrive, the same monster—I hold back a wince… guard —I noticed before is stationed outside. Its eyes—too many and too sharp—follow us as we approach. I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus on Solan’s steady presence at my side.

The guard steps aside without a word, allowing us entry into the bowling alley. Varek stands near a wall covered with writing I can’t even begin to decipher. His massive frame appears even more imposing today. Beside him is Shanae, her piercing eyes appraising us as we enter, despite her small smile.

“Welcome,” Varek says, his voice low and resonant. “I trust you’ve had time to consider your position here.”

As far as greetings go, I suppose that one makes it clear what his priorities are.

Solan steps forwards. “We have concerns,” he starts, his tone measured but firm. “We’re willing to support the Riftborn, but our agenda isn’t to take down the monarchy.”

Shanae’s gaze sharpens, but Varek raises a hand, silencing whatever comment she might have made. “Not everyone here seeks the monarchy’s destruction,” he says slowly. “But you must understand, many do. This isn’t just about survival for them—it’s about freedom.”

I step in, my voice steady despite the nerves twisting in my gut. “We get that. But our priority is keeping Jamie safe. If that means staying here and pulling our weight, we’re willing to do that. But we’re not soldiers.”

Not technically true, I know, considering Solan’s job title and that Calythra is in training.

Varek’s silver eyes lock onto mine, piercing and sharp, his expression unreadable. He nods once, a slow, deliberate gesture that carries weight, before looking away. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” His gaze is trained on Solan, calculating and curious. “ Kelvarra .”

Solan tenses slightly, though his expression remains neutral. “I was. Once.”

I glance between them, reality setting in. “Shit,” I murmur through our bond. “When you left, you really left. Will there be a warrant out for you or something?”

“And now you’re here, tied to a human and playing rebel,” Varek muses, his smirk sharp. “Interesting turn of events.”

As he speaks, Solan uses the bond to say, “I do not know warrant, but the queen’s soldiers will be looking for me.” He seems to hesitate.

“What?” I push. Everything about what’s happening here needs to be shared. There can be no holding back.

“If they find me, they will take me to the queen’s assembly and demand answers. It is unlikely they’ll let me leave, at least not without a way to ensure loyalty.”

“How?” Before he can respond, he focusses back on Varek.

“I’m here because I choose to be,” Solan replies, his voice carrying a quiet authority that silences any further probing.

Despite his calm demeanour, I can feel the undercurrent of tension in him through our bond. His voice is low and measured when he says, “I can offer what little insight I have. I worked outside the queendom, in the market town of Myra’s Crossing. It wasn’t the same as being within the sovereign state, but I observed enough to understand their methods.”

It’s a carefully chosen explanation vague enough to satisfy curiosity without revealing too much. What he doesn’t say is that his connection to the head merchant of that town—the man who is his sister’s father-in-law—is a secret he intends to keep. The rebels might see such a tie as a liability or a threat—though more likely as something to be bargained with—and Solan knows better than to risk it.

Varek offers a smile, though it’s not one I wholly trust. “Any insight is valuable,” he says simply, though there’s an edge to his tone that suggests he’ll be keeping a close eye on Solan.

The heavy air between us doesn’t dissipate, though his demeanour shifts slightly. He tilts his head, studying us both for a moment before his lips curl into the faintest smirk. “Good. Then we’ll take you to Dathanor.”

He’s about to turn away when his gaze flicks back to me. His smirk deepens, a gleam of amusement flickering in his silver eyes. “Congratulations on completing your bond.”

Heat floods my face in an instant. I whip my head around to look at Solan, who seems utterly unbothered, his smug expression making my mortification ten times worse. I resist the urge to groan aloud.

“How does he know?” I ask through our link, my mental voice sharp and indignant.

Solan shrugs and speaks with the mental equivalent of a casual drawl, “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” I snap, glaring at him.

He smirks in response, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

Varek doesn’t linger on my embarrassment, turning instead to issue orders to his people. As the group begins to move, I take a steadying breath and fall into step beside Solan.

We walk in silence for a while before Solan’s voice threads into my mind, softer now. “Varek’s not entirely wrong about bonds. They’re… obvious, in a way. To those who know what to look for.”

I glance at him, my curiosity momentarily overriding my irritation. “And what exactly should I know about what’s obvious?”

Solan’s lips twitch into a faint smile, though there’s something guarded in his gaze. “Your scent has changed. Stronger, more entwined with mine. Your energy too. To someone like Varek, who’s lived long and seen much, it’s unmistakable.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better. “Great. So now everyone knows we’re bonded because I smell different?”

“Not everyone,” he assures me, though the teasing glint in his eyes suggests he finds my indignation amusing. “Only those who are perceptive.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Perhaps,” he admits, his voice rich with amusement.

Solan’s amusement still caresses my mind by the time Varek has finished talking with his crew and gets us to leave. The first thing we do is collect Geralt and Ridge. They’ve been fed and watered, and I thank Shanae profusely when I realise she’s also organised for them to be brushed down. I’ve been a pretty shitty horse owner since being here.

The journey to the rebel town—Dathanor—stretches out in quiet tension as we make our way. The group moves at a steady pace, Solan and I sticking close together while Jamie shares his horse with Calythra. My stockhorse, Geralt, surprises me with his composure. Even in this strange terrain, with different species and odd contraptions surrounding us, he handles it with the same steady gait I’ve trusted for years.

Most of the rebels travel on foot, their movements ranging from fluid and swift, while some are heavy and lumbering over the uneven, rocky ground. It’s like they’ve been shaped by this terrain, their strides effortless where mine feel precarious. Thank fuck I’m on Geralt’s back. Solan walks beside me, his steps powerful and deliberate, his eyes ever watchful. He doesn’t stray from my side, his hand occasionally brushing Geralt’s flank as though anchoring us both.

A few among the group ride peculiar vehicles—contraptions that remind me vaguely of scooters, though sleeker and more “other” in design. Their purr is subtle, almost like the whisper of wind through tall grass. How silent they are is impressive. It’s clear they’re not powered by anything familiar. No electricity hums in the air, no engines roar. The energy feels… alive. I think of the elemental trick Solan showed me before—the way, with a flick of his hand, he powered the light in his home. Is that what drives these machines?

Jamie’s voice drifts to me as he chats with Calythra, his awe at the strange landscape and the company of monsters bubbling over into endless questions. Calythra answers him with surprising patience, his voice a gentle rumble punctuated by Jamie’s sharper, more eager tones. For a moment, I’m grateful for the distraction it gives my nephew.

The terrain grows rougher as we progress, jagged rocks jutting up like the bones of the earth. The air takes on a different quality, heavier and tinged with a faint metallic taste that sits on my tongue. I feel it the moment we cross through the wards, an almost-imperceptible ripple that tingles across my skin.

Then, as though the world shifts around us, the rebel town comes into view.

Nestled against a ridge of rocky hills, Dathanor is unlike any place I’ve ever seen. The settlement seems to rise organically from the landscape, its structures carved directly into the rockface. Glowing veins of bioluminescent green and blue trace patterns along the cavernous walls, casting an otherworldly light over the area. The effect is eerie but mesmerising, like standing inside a living, breathing organism.

The town is layered, with pathways spiralling upwards and downwards, connecting a network of caves and platforms that cling to the cliffs. Wooden bridges, ropes, and ladders stretch precariously between levels, swaying slightly with each breeze. At ground level, makeshift tents and lean-tos are scattered in clusters, their inhabitants bustling with purpose.

“This used to be underground,” Shanae says to us as we dismount. “The rift brought it to the surface. The floating rivers obviously didn’t stick. The gravity of Terrafeara makes it impossible.”

Varek gestures for us to follow, his silver eyes glinting in the bioluminescent glow. “The wards don’t keep anyone out,” he explains as we walk. “That’s not their purpose. They work as a cloak, concealing the town from view unless you pass through them.”

The ingenuity of it impresses me, though it doesn’t loosen the knot of unease in my stomach. This place isn’t just a refuge. Apparently, it’s a war camp, and the purpose behind its creation is evident in every detail.

Armed rebels move with precision, their steps purposeful as they go about their tasks. A group practices with weapons on a platform above, their strikes sharp and deliberate. The clanging of blades echoes faintly through the cavernous space.

“This isn’t just a place for people like us to live safely,” I mutter to Solan through our bond.

“No,” he agrees, his golden eyes scanning the surroundings. “It’s not. There’s a lot of activity and weapons.”

I catch sight of Jamie as Calythra helps him dismount. My nephew’s wide eyes are glued to the glowing patterns on the walls, his curiosity unbridled. Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips. His awe is a comfort, a reminder that even during chaos, there’s room for wonder.

Solan steps closer to me, his presence steadying as the weight of our situation settles heavily on my shoulders. “Stay sharp.” His voice is low and grounding in my head. “This is no place for carelessness.”

I nod, sweeping my gaze over the town as Varek leads us deeper inside. The activity around us is relentless, the air thick with tension and purpose. This is a community on the brink, not just surviving but preparing for something far greater.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Sure, there’s a small collection of market-type stalls and cave-shaped domes being used as stores. There are smaller species racing around, and I think they’re young… kids rather than small monsters.

“How many live here?” I ask. I can’t see the end of the settlement or how many dwellings are here.

Varek stops and glances at me, his gaze assessing. I completely get it if he doesn’t te?—

“With the four of you, it brings us to 527.”

Parting my lips in surprise, I gasp, looking around once more.

“There are also several hatchlings due and eight births imminent.”

Fuck.

Shanae steps to Varek’s side. “This is what we’re trying to protect. Almost every single person is Riftborn, born outside of Terrafeara. Children, parents, grandparents. Some have lost loved ones to the queen. Everyone else is running for their lives, refusing to be used to empower the sovereign state. Used until they’re no longer of value.” Her words are impassioned, determined, her American accent thick and her deep brown eyes swimming with emotion.

“Shanae lost someone.”

Somehow I don’t startle at Solan’s voice in my head. I study Shanae, my gut hurting at the pain she reveals. And it’s not only that, but as a Black Southern woman, it’s likely she has some pretty fucking harrowing family history with enslavement, right?

“This is why it’s not enough to just hide. We have to make things change.”

I open my mouth, but no words come. I don’t know what to say. What can I possibly offer in the face of what she’s experienced? I’ve never faced this kind of loss, this kind of fight. Okay, I’ve been ripped from Earth, but I’m not ready to truly deal with that just yet. And sure, I’ve seen tragedy. I’ve pulled people from burning buildings, watched as homes crumbled to ash. But this? This is something else entirely.

Shanae’s gaze shifts to me, and it’s not accusatory—it’s just steady, waiting.

I glance at Solan, my thoughts brushing against his like reaching for a hand in the dark. “I have no idea how to respond to this. I’ve never been in her shoes. Not even close.”

“You don’t need to have been,” he replies, his mental voice calm and reassuring . “You listen. You acknowledge. That’s enough for now.”

I nod slightly, his words a perfect cool breeze on a hot Queensland day. Shanae doesn’t press, instead turning back to Varek to ask something about supplies. Jamie, however, is watching her like she’s just lit up a classroom.

“What did you do back on Earth, Shanae?” he asks, his voice carrying that innocent curiosity that only kids can pull off. “Before you came here?”

Shanae’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “I was a teacher. High school history and government.”

“Did you teach about slavery?” Jamie asks, his expression serious.

Her smile fades, replaced by a softer, more reflective look. “I did. We talked about a lot of things—slavery, civil rights, Indigenous rights. Things that shaped the world and still affect people today.”

“What did your students think?” Jamie tilts his head like he’s filing away her answers for later.

Shanae sighs. “Some of them understood how big and awful it was… still is in some countries. Others…. Well, some thought it didn’t matter anymore. That it was just history, something they didn’t have to worry about.”

Jamie frowns, clearly not satisfied with that. He shifts on his feet, his mind visibly working through her words.

Solan steps closer to me, his voice low in my mind. “Jamie’s thinking harder about this than most adults.”

I nod, watching my nephew. His voice comes again, quieter this time. “Mr Johns said it’s everyone’s responsibility to make things better, even if it’s hard. ’Cause if you don’t, you’re just letting it happen.”

My chest tightens at his repeated words from earlier. Jamie’s always been sharp, but this? He’s still making statements, asking probing questions that I’m not sure I have the courage to answer. He’s right, though. I know he is.

Solan clears his throat, speaking aloud now. “Wise words, Jamie. It takes courage to face something wrong and do what’s needed to stop it. But it’s not always clear what the right thing is.”

Jamie looks up at him, his expression steady. “So, what’s the right thing now?”

Solan hesitates, the weight of the question clear in his golden eyes. “We learn. We understand what’s happening here and why. And when the time comes to decide, we stand together.”

There’s a flicker of approval in Shanae’s gaze as she listens. I feel a similar surge of admiration, both for Solan’s words and for Jamie’s determination.

Still, the questions linger in my mind. I reach out to Solan telepathically . “I’ve been thinking more about the rifts. About why they happen. If someone is creating them deliberately, maybe it’s the queen—under her order—or someone else entirely. Varek said the crown fears the power bonded pairs have. What if this is about controlling that power?”

His thoughts sharpen, his attention immediate. “Go on.”

Before I do, I see that Calythra is speaking to Jamie, while Varek is talking to Shanae, giving us a moment to speak silently. “If they bring people here and intercept them before they meet their fated mates, then they control the power that comes from the bond. They could harness it for themselves. But if that’s the case, why? What’s the endgame?” I wonder if it is her or someone acting on her behalf and if it’s about securing the strength of her queendom.

Solan doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is cautious. “It’s a possibility. But it’s not something we should bring up to Varek yet. Not until we have more answers.”

I agree, but the thought gnaws at me. If we’re right, it means this entire situation is more deliberate—and more dangerous—than I’d imagined.

Jamie looks back at me, his gaze steady and far too wise for his age. “Uncle Jack, we can’t just do nothing.”

His words cut through my swirling thoughts. He’s right. Again. As much as I want to shield him, to keep him safe and hidden, and to brush aside his words, I know it’s not that simple.

“Yeah, mate,” I say quietly, the weight of his conviction settling over me. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Varek is quick to pounce. “So, you’ll join the cause?”

Bloody hell. Is that what I’m agreeing to? “It’s not just up to me.”

Calythra straightens. “If it’s what Jamie wants, then I’m here.”

I wince, not wanting this responsibility at all. But wanting and the right thing to do are two different things.

Jamie looks at me with determination. “I’m in, Uncle Jack. We have to stop her.”

Fuck it all to hell.

Solan, standing beside him, nods firmly. “Count me in too. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

I glance at Calythra, then back at Jamie and Solan, my heart sinking. “All right. We’ll do this together. But no one gets hurt.” Or taken or gets dead , I add silently to myself.

Varek’s grin is wide and disarming as he takes a step towards us. “Welcome to the rebellion.”