Page 65 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

If I wasn’t already falling for this man, him bringing pasta to a date in the library would’ve sent me tumbling.

After nearly devouring the whole lot, I glance up to find him watching me. As always, his expression is unreadable, so many emotions flicker in his gaze. It’s like he can’t quite decide how to feel about me. And I don’t know whether that’s worrying… or exhilarating.

“Sorry,” I say, mouth full. “Do you want some?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, that’s okay. You enjoy, Red.” His smile is soft and full of affection.

Later, after we’ve eaten and talked, I hold up the book I brought—worn at the edges, the spine cracked with age. The Divine Union of Admira and Odio. The gold-inked title catches the light as Stone leans in, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Will you read it to me?” he asks, voice soft.

I study his face for a second—his sharp jaw, full lips, those stormy ocean eyes I want to drown in—and nod.

He pulls me gently against him, tucking me into his chest as I open the book and begin to read.

“In the beginning, Admira created the Sun to burn alone in the sky, radiant and blinding and utterly without pause. Admira’s light was endless, but she grew tired of always shining; her power waned. And so Odio, in his devotion to her, created the Moon, and it rose to allow her rest.

“Together, they formed the cycle—the balance of day and night. Supporting and loving each other as their creations shone in the sky, one gold and one silver.”

Stone grunts low in his throat, and I glance up at him. “You don’t think it’s romantic?” I ask.

He looks at me, eyes darker in the library’s warm glow. “I think it’s a fairy tale.”

I smirk at his realism. “Nothing wrong with fairy tales. They give people hope.”

“That’s exactly what’s wrong with them,” he murmurs.

Something beneath my ribcage tightens, and I hurt for him.

What kind of things has this man lived through to make him fear hope? To repel it?

I close the book and turn to him fully. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing else.

“Stone, I—”

“Oh, there you are!” Deacon’s voice shatters the moment, far too loud for the library.

He strides up to the edge of the blanket, smirking. “I’ve been searching for you all day. Why do you hide from me, my queen?”

He raises a hand in salute to Stone. “Hey, man.”

Stone just nods in return.

“What do you want, Deacon?” I ask, voice flat.

“I need a favour.”

* * *

“I don’t know, Deacon. I’m not sure this is a good idea.” I follow him across the grounds, grass tickling my ankles as we head toward the combat field .

“I’ve watched that woman fade away this past week, Lina.” His voice is low and serious. “I’ll try absolutely anything to get her to show a flicker of emotion.”

“Everyone grieves differently, Deacs,” I remind him gently.

“I know. But she’s holding it all in. She won’t eat. Barely even speaks.” He stops, turning to face me. “I’m worried about her. She needs to feel something, even if it’s pain. It might help her break out of this.”

I nod. His words ring true. Maybe an outburst is exactly what Willa needs, some raw release to shatter the cage in her mind. I can’t imagine the images replaying over and over for her. Watching her father die, again and again.

“I’ll do what I can,” I say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “But this might not work. You know that, right?”

“I know.” He grips my hand back. “I’ll go get her. You just be ready.”

I stretch by the side of the combat ring, pulling one arm across my chest until the tight muscles burn, then switching sides. Next, I warm up my legs, dropping into a deep lunge. That’s when I hear her.

“What the fuck is this?” Willa’s sharp tone cuts through the air. I smile at her words. It’s better than her silence.

“You’re going to fight Elina.”

I turn to face them and give a small wave. Willa’s eyes narrow as she spins toward Deacon.

“You’ve lost your damned mind if you think I’m getting in that ring.” She shoves him hard. He doesn’t budge.

“You need to feel something, Willa,” he says softly, reaching towards her to stroke her face, but she bats his hand away.

“Don’t fucking baby me, Deacon,” she snaps.

“Okay, I won’t.” He straightens, voice growing firm. “If you don’t want coddling, get in that ring and fight. Prove I don’t have to watch over you every second. Prove you’re still capable of more than the shell you’ve become these past few days.”

I shift awkwardly, unsure if I should even be hearing this.

“You’re not being fair,” she hisses.

“I know. But even if it hurts me to do it, I’ll be what you need.”

“Fuck you,” she mutters, climbing into the ring.

I follow silently.

“Willa, you don’t have to—” I start, but she charges me, screaming, arms raised.

It’s a terrible opening move, easy to dodge. But I let her land a punch to my cheek, sensing she needs to hit something—or someone.

I avoid her next swing and send a kick to her side, light on purpose.

“If you’re going to fight me,” she growls, breath ragged, “then do me the fucking decency of doing it properly.”

Well. Looks like we’re doing this.

Her attacks are messy—wild swings and kicks that lack precision.

In a real fight, she’d be down in ten seconds.

Still, I let her swing. A few blows land with surprising force, but I dodge most of them, offering just enough resistance to make it feel real.

I land a few light hits of my own, but mostly, I wait her out.

Nearly five minutes in, her strength begins to falter. Her punches slow, losing their precision. Her shoulders sag, the weight of everything she’s been holding in finally catching up to her.

She stumbles, catches herself, then throws another hit, more out of desperation than technique. Her breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, like she’s choking on silence. Then it happens.

She breaks.

A ragged sob wrenches free from her chest, raw and violent, and she screams—not words, just sound—into the space between us, into the nothing. She doesn’t release any of her power, thank the Gods, but the air feels tight, like it wants to crack under the strain, break at her pain.

Deacon’s over the ropes in a flash, catching her before she hits the mat. He holds her tightly as the sobs pour out.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”

I step back quietly, leaving them to their moment.

Gods, I hope I’ve done enough.

* * *

There’s a light knock at my door later, and it opens before I can respond.

Chocolate brown curls peek around the frame, checking I’m decent before he steps inside, an ice pack in hand. I take it from him, pressing it gently to my cheekbone where Willa clocked me. It’s already starting to bruise.

“Thank you,” he says.

But I don’t need his thanks. I’d go to Miento’s realm and back for him if he asked.

“How is she?” I ask.

“She cried herself to sleep.” His voice is quiet, his eyes full of worry, flicking behind him to the door, like being away from her whilst she’s so vulnerable, is physically painful.

“Hm. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Or maybe she’ll hate me when she wakes up.”

I shrug. “At least that’s an emotion. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin.”

“Like the sun and the moon.”

A shiver runs down my spine. His words eerily echo the ones I read with Stone earlier, and I can’t help but remember his reaction to the story.

Pulling the melting ice pack down from my face, I catch his eyes locking on the bruise forming there.

“She got you good, huh?” He chuckles, dimples popping on his cheeks.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you.” I toss the pack back to him, and he catches it with ease. “She’s a powerhouse.”

“Don’t I know it?” he says wistfully, rising to his feet.

“Thanks again, Lina.”

“Yeah, yeah. Piss off, lover boy.” I wave him out of my room, laughing.