Page 41 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

T he tent is too quiet and empty in the wake of Azyric’s exit.

I haven’t moved and my pulse still thrums from the feel of his lips against mine and the confession that split open something unknown between us. My goal was to mend the gap that had grown since I left the wraith’s castle, yet somehow it seems to have only grown wider.

My fingers tremble slightly at my sides, but I ignore them, staring at the entrance as if he’s going to walk back in. When it opens, my breath rises in my throat, but three figures appear.

Not one…and not four.

He still chooses to avoid me and this confusion that brews between us.

The knot that formed in my chest tightens as I realize he isn’t coming back, yet the presence of these three soothes a part of me that feels rejected from Azyric’s departure.

They came for me, even after I continued to claim neutrality in this war. Despite the hurt I saw reflected in each of their eyes from my admission, the explanation of my power discovery, or maybe even a mixture of both.

They all come to a stop a few feet away when they see me standing alone, each of their gazes running over me, offering warmth and understanding as the silence stretches.

Sylvin’s voice breaks it first, soft and gentle like when we were in the grove of the Summer Court. “He’s an imbecile, little echo. You don’t need him if he’s going to act this way.”

I swallow and nod instinctively. He may be right, but it doesn’t erase the tiny part of me that wants his words to be wrong.

Torryn tilts his head slightly, the muscle in his jaw ticking before his voice rumbles low. “No matter what you decide to do tomorrow, you still need to eat and rest tonight.”

I blink slowly, some part of me grateful for the simplicity of the words. He’s always such a grounding presence for me, even when everything inside me feels like it’s been torn loose.

Riven’s voice follows, softer than his usual. “ Where do you want to sleep, darling? We need to get an extra cot in one of the tents.”

My breath catches. It’s a simple question, but the weight that presses down on my chest is overwhelming. Their gazes shift concurrently, displaying the same emotions for the very first time.

Hope. Fear. Vulnerability.

My throat tightens as the realization settles…this is the moment I have to tell them the truth of my feelings. If I wait or try to delay it, I may lose the clarity or courage that’s finally come to me alongside it.

“I want you all to know that I feel a connection to all three of you,” I start, the words slow but steady. I take a breath and admit, “And I don’t want to choose just one.”

Torryn’s gaze doesn’t flicker, but his arms fold across his chest. Sylvin’s signature smirk falters at the edges, blue eyes narrowing with an edge of curiosity.

Riven’s jaw tenses, the corner of his mouth twitching like he swallowed something bitter.

His eyes don’t leave mine, but I feel the wall start to rise behind them.

I push forward before they can speak, needing to say it all before doubt has the chance to creep in. “If you try to force me to choose one of you, I…I’ll choose none of you.”

My voice wavers, but I don’t look away.

“Maybe that’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry for that, but I can’t put one of you above the others. I can’t just pretend the rest of you don't exist. If you don’t want me to–”

Sylvin is in front of me before I can finish, his hand lifting to cradle my face.

The movement is gentle and there’s no dramatic flair in his face as he gazes down at me, only a tender softness.

“I’m fine with it,” he murmurs, thumb stroking along my cheekbone, “as long as it means I get a piece of you, little echo.”

His head descends and his lips brush against mine before I can reply.

It’s soft and exploring, the complete opposite of Riven’s consuming kiss.

I feel a ripple of nerves at the thought of the others watching, yet my body responds without hesitation.

His tongue is tentative as I open for him, but t he kiss breaks too soon.

I don’t have time to catch my breath before I’m swept against another body, heat and muscle wrapping around me as Torryn growls against my ear. “I’ve been waiting to do this for what feels like far too long, sweetheart.”

His mouth crashes into mine, and there’s nothing gentle about it.

His lips move over mine like he already knows exactly how we fit against each other.

It feels familiar and full of warmth as I surrender myself to him.

My hands grip his broad shoulders instinctively, grounding myself in the strength of him, melting into the safety he always gives without asking for anything in return.

When he pulls back, I’m breathless and dazed, with swollen lips.

Sylvin exhales dramatically from behind us.

“ Honestly, ” he murmurs, “that was a spectacular show to watch.”

I laugh, soft and surprised, the sound catching in my throat. Maybe I shouldn’t be laughing in such a tense moment, but I needed it, and somehow Sylvin always knows that.

Hope flickers in the space between us, tentative but real. Yet when my gaze finds Riven, it dims just slightly, realizing he hasn’t moved at all. He holds himself too tightly, with the veins along his hands bulging.

I move toward him slowly, and he doesn’t back away. I watch the tension pulling at the corners of his mouth, the flicker of pain behind his eyes. He’s unraveling beneath the surface but still trying to hold it together outwardly.

I knew his upset was a possibility in sharing my true feelings, considering how far our relationship has progressed, but the thought of the hurt he feels makes my heart feel as if it’s cracking open.

I stop in front of him and take his hands in mine, curling my fingers along his enough to open the tight fists he’s balled them into.

“This changes nothing about our time together,” I say quietly, meeting his crimson gaze, needing him to hear the truth in my words.

“All of that was real, and it still is. It still lives here.” I press his hand gently to my chest. “We moved forward with our connection while I already had feelings for the others…and that’s proof I have room in my heart for more than one.”

For a breath, he doesn’t move, but slowly I feel the tension fading from him. Then his hand lifts slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger along my cheek, callused and reverent.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmurs, voice raw with the tender admission. “Not when I just found you, darling.”

My throat tightens at the sound of that word, darling , like it’s sacred to him now rather than just a casual nickname.

“You won’t,” I promise, the words shaped with more certainty than I’ve felt in days. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His mouth claims mine with a hunger that stirs desire low in my belly. One hand cradles the back of my neck while the other presses to my hip, pulling me flush against him like he’s daring anyone watching to deny what we’ve built together. There’s no hesitation, only possession .

It makes me think of every breath, every touch, and every moment that led us here.

When we finally part, I can barely breathe, dazed from the lack of oxygen.

“Slumber party it is!” Sylvin declares far too loudly, shattering the moment as he spins on his heel and marches through the tent flap. “Leave the details to me. I shall conjure us a place to house our chaos for the night.”

Riven exhales slowly, head tipping forward against mine for a brief moment before we pull back entirely.

Torryn just shakes his head, murmuring, “Fae theatrics never end,” before he follows Sylvin into the night.

I linger in the tent, reaching for Riven’s hand. We just stand there, hand in hand, staring into each other's eyes, and all I can hope is that he continues to trust my honesty and our connection. Because if he pulls away from me at any point, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it.

Shouts from Sylvin outside as he directs a few fae into constructing his vision make the corner of my lips twitch into a smile.

Riven lets out a sigh and shakes his hand. “Are you sure about that one? I’m not sure I can promise to not rip his throat out if he reads you another poem when the rest of us are trying to sleep. I can at least handle the smell of Torryn for you, since he’s fairly quiet. ”

I smack his chest playfully with my free hand. “Torryn does not smell bad and I quite liked Sylvin’s poem.”

He groans and tightens his grip on my hand. “You most definitely will be the ruin of me, darling.”

I lead him from the tent and the scent of the fae magic at work hits me first. Freshly turned soil and flowers in bloom. I glance toward the source of it and find a small cottage rising from the ground in place of the three tents that seem to have been hastily broken down.

It’s not as grand as I expected it to be with Sylvin at the helm of its design. It feels warm and inviting in its small size. New growth blooms along the walls and vines sprawl across the roof.

Sylvin stands just outside the door, arms flung wide as he faces me. “Behold! One custom-made temporary sanctuary. Perfect for housing one little echo and her questionable entourage.”

I huff out a breath that lands somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

Torryn’s hand falls to my shoulder, squeezing softly as he mutters. “We’re going to regret this.”

“I can always make it smaller if you’d both like to leave me alone with my little echo,” Sylvin calls sweetly as he opens the door. “Otherwise, there’s a moss-covered slab of dirt masquerading as an extremely large bed inside, and I fully intend to claim the inside corner before one of you.”

My hand lifts to smother a laugh bubbling up within me as he gestures at us to come in. Only then do I notice the hundreds of pairs of eyes on us then, all staring from the different faction camps spread out around us.

Mostly I see looks of deep confusion written into scrunched brows, but I also spot some curled lips of disgust. None of the kings seem to notice, and if they do, they don’t pay it any mind.

Hesitation blossoms within me, seeing a chance for dissent amongst the masses here.

The last thing I want is to cause an uproar the night before a battle.

“Don’t mind them,” Torryn murmurs in my ear, causing me to shiver from his warm breath fanning across my skin. “Change isn’t always welcomed, but many times necessary to bring about meaningful outcomes.”

I lean back into his warmth and nod. “You’re right, and honestly, as long as the three of you are with me, I don’t care what any of them think.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, causing a rumbling vibration to roll from his chest into my back. The words cause my eyes to widen, and I clear my throat as heat pools within me.

Focus, Wren.

We step inside and I turn in a slow circle to take the craftwork in. The corner of the room is a gently sloped rise of dirt, soft grass blooming beneath the edges of mattresses laid side by side.

It’s chaotic, cozy, and deeply strange–but it’s perfect.

“You seriously expect us to sleep on the same bed?” Riven grumbles, one brow arched in disbelief.

“You’ll live,” Sylvin replies, already tossing a pillow dramatically into his corner along the dirt wall.

Torryn surveys the layout and shakes his head. “We’re all going to wake up with you sprawled on top of us, I’m sure.”

“Only Wren could get that lucky,” Sylvin hums before plopping down onto his back. “Come here, little echo. My tummy hurts from all this tension since you arrived. Soothe me, please.”

Riven groans and says he’s going to get the other pillows, meanwhile Torryn grumbles about going to get food for us all.

I don’t move, instead I just watch the dynamics between us unfolding like this is perfectly normal. There’s a pang in my chest as wonder and gratitude fills me.

They’re willing to give me this moment and share my heart, despite how messy all of our feelings are, how unresolved the details are of what this choice brings, and how disastrous it could be between the factions .

The warmth of the moment wraps around my shoulders and sinks into my bones, but even as I cross toward the shared bed to snuggle next to Sylvin, one name lingers in the back of my mind.

Azyric .

I may have all three of them here tonight, but a shadow still lingers in the doorway of my heart, and I don’t know yet if it’s trying to leave or waiting to be let in.