Page 53 of Unravelled
Ren's rooms enveloped her. It was a world of deep greens and muted golds. An echo of the palace's grandeur, but shaped by his own hand.
The walls were a dark wood, carved with motifs of twisted vines and delicate leaves. Heavy drapes of green velvet framed tall, arched windows, the fabric woven with bronze threads that caught the dim light.
Nature touched everything. Delicate glass terrariums sat on the mantle, each a miniature world of moss and ferns, their glass panes fogged with condensation.
The rug underfoot was a tapestry of roots and leaves, soft beneath her boots.
Light filtered through fixtures shaped like winding branches, their metal leaves casting gentle, swaying shadows over the ceiling.
As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she saw what lay beneath, something still, untouched as if frozen in time.
A vanity stood against the far wall, its mirror clouded with dust. The delicate glass bottles of perfume were lined up in perfect rows, neatly arranged, untouched. A brush the bristles stiff with age.
Mira moved further into the room, her fingers trailing over the vanity’s edge. Dustmotes floated up, a soft gray film stained her fingertips.
She glanced into the bedroom beyond, where the bed lay half-shadowed.
The deep green coverlet was neatly arranged, but only on one side.
The other side showed clear signs of use.
Blankets rumpled, a pillow slightly dented, the sheets creased and pulled back.
The second pillow remained untouched, its surface smooth, undented.
Two of everything, but only one life being lived here. She felt the room close in around her, the stillness pressing against her skin. Whoever had once shared this room was gone, absent for longer than dust alone could explain.
“Is there something you needed, Mira?”
She spun, heart slamming against her ribs.
Ren stood in the doorway to the adjoining study, his silhouette outlined in the amber glow of low-burning sconces behind him.
He looked taller there, broader somehow, the light casting sharp angles across his face.
His face was unreadable, controlled, the flicker of emotion held behind the glint of eyes that didn’t soften when they met hers.
Behind him, Tharion. Arms crossed, posture guarded, his eyes were ice. Watchful. Calculated.
“I…” Mira’s voice faltered. She’d meant to demand answers, to confront them about the things they were keeping from her—but now, standing in front of them, the certainty drained from her.
Her mouth went dry. She swallowed hard and forced the words out, thin and brittle “I needed to speak with you. Both of you.”
She steadied herself, brushing the dust from her palms as though it could rid her of the weight pressing into her chest. The stillness in the room felt unnatural, stretched too tightly around them. Mira drew in a slow breath, quieting the tremor in her hands.
“There’s been a raid,” she said, her voice finally steady, though soft. She stepped deeper into the room and lifted her gaze to meet Ren’s again.
But the man she found staring back wasn’t the one she remembered from moonlit corridors and whispered laughter. This wasn't the Ren who had stolen a moment in the garden. This was Bharalyn's Regent. Sharp, measured, with his focus was entirely on her.
And it struck her harder than she cared to admit. It wasn’t fear. It was desire. It hit her like a flush of heat, a treacherous, undeniable pulse that slid low and sudden through her stomach. Longing curled quiet and hot beneath the composure she fought to keep in place.
“Hallen is gone." She whispered "The Kharadors struck without warning. It was too clean. Too targeted. Someone led them there.”
Ren didn’t react. No shock. No outburst. Just a subtle darkening behind his eyes. He stepped into the room. Tharion followed, his body tense, every movement coiled with alertness.
“Mira....who told you that?” Ren asked. His voice was low, laced with iron. Her name clung to the edge of it, quiet but deliberate. Mira. He said it like she meant something to him. She swallowed, pulse thrumming in her ears.
“The attendants. Whispers in the gardens. Some of the survivors are here I think."
Ren didn’t speak. His eyes stayed locked on hers, sharp and unblinking, as if trying to read more in her words than she was saying. The weight of his attention pressed against her, fierce and undivided.
She forced herself to keep going. “Garrick said whatever they came for, they either took or burned. ”
Tharion’s gaze flicked toward Ren. His jaw worked once before he spoke. “And you think someone inside pointed the Kharadors to it?”
“I know someone did.” Mira said.
She crossed her arms, not in retreat but in defiance, her fingers tightening around the coarse fabric of her sleeves like a tether. Anything to keep her focus, to anchor herself against the heat that rose under Ren’s gaze.
“There were moment at the Summer Solstice Ball.Names. I thought it was just court gossip but now…” She hesitated, her voice lowering. “With the Veiled Night Celebrations tomorrow, and the conversations we overheard ... it feels coordinated. Like someone’s setting the stage.”
Ren’s jaw flexed. His face remained still, but tension rolled off him like smoke. His hands stayed at his sides, but his fingers twitched, once, then again, before curling into restrained fists.
“What conversations?” Ren asked, his voice low and directed at Tharion, but his eyes never left Mira. His focus stayed fixed on her, as if watching for the truth beneath her silence.
Tharion stood like stone beside him, unreadable but not innocent. He hadn't told Ren. A sliver of hope stirred. Maybe there was still something left to mend between her and Tharion. A thread not entirely severed.
Her eyes flicked back to Ren. And the rest of it vanished. His gaze remained on her, fierce and unblinking. That tug she tried so hard to resist threatened to drag her under. No matter how tightly she crossed her arms, she couldn’t block it out. She inhaled slowly.
“In the west hall, I heard Asric speaking with someone. He said their next move comes at Veiled Night...” Ren didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened, frustration flashing in his eyes.
She chose her words carefully. Tharion told you about Seacliffe,” she said, voice taut. “But not this?”
Ren nodded once. Her gaze darted to Tharion, still silent at Ren’s side. Of course. Tharion had been fed Ren more than what they had done.He’d passed on the Kharadors’ movements to Ren. Her chest tightened, the sting of betrayal burning hot behind her ribs.
She stared at Tharion "Did you lead the Kharadors to Hallen?”
“Yes,” Ren said, finally. His voice was low. Frustrated. Unapologetic. Mira’s stomach churned .
“But not before we got them out,” Tharion added. “Every single person we could reach. We pulled them from their homes before Kharador crossed the ridge. Ren gave the order to evacuate Hallen before we had left Seacliffe.”
Her voice rose. “So you handed it to them? You just gave it up?”
“No,” Ren growled, his frustration flaring just beneath the surface. “I made a choice. The kind rulers are supposed to make. I put Bharalyn people above land.”
Mira shook her head. “You let it burn.”
“I saved what mattered,” Ren snapped, his voice cutting through her anger like ice. “You think I wanted this? You think I’ve slept at all, knowing what was coming? But it was either evacuate them quietly, or let them stay and die screaming.”
Tharion’s jaw tightened as he looked away, retreating a fraction.
“Do you know what happens if we try to defend every inch?” Ren asked, softer now. His voice no longer sharp, but heavy with exhaustion. “We lose. Slowly, completely.”
Ren lifted a hand, palm open, not pleading, exposed. The gesture hovered in the air for a moment, then fell as he took a slow step toward her.
“You think I don’t hate it?” he continued. “That I don’t ache with guilt over what I’ve had to sign off on? But there’s no glory in dying for stones and smoke.”
Another step. Closer now.
“I made sure we didn’t lose them,” he said, eyes locked to hers. “The land can be taken back. People can’t.”
Mira’s breath caught. Her fury wavered, but the ache didn’t fade. It only shifted, lower in her chest, heavier.
“You’re not the only one who’s trying to help them,” Her voice didn’t waver. She looked between Ren and Tharion. “But I can’t do that if I’m always chasing shadows. If I’m always the last to know.”
Ren’s mouth pressed into a line. Mira stepped forward, closing the last of the distance between her and Ren, until they stood almost chest to chest. She could feel the heat of him, the tension thrumming beneath his stillness.
Neither of them moved, the air between them drawn tight, sharp as wire.
Ren’s gaze faltered, just for a moment. He glanced at Tharion.
And Tharion, for the first time, looked uncertain.
Mira didn’t let the moment pass. “I know there’s something more you’re not telling me, something about my memories. And Tharion’s.”
The silence that followed was not hesitation.
It was a precipice. Mira felt it in her bones, the shift in air, the bracing before a fall.
Neither man moved, but the air shifted. Something final exchanged in silence, no glance required.
A line being crossed. A door opening that could not be closed again.
Tharion spoke. “Tell her,” he murmured. “Or I will.”
Ren spun around to face him. The flicker of betrayal lit in his expression, raw and sudden. His jaw tensed, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“You don’t get to decide this Tharion.” His voice flared, raw and incendiary.
Tharion didn’t flinch. “But it is hers to know. You’ve waited too long already. You’re not protecting her by keeping her in the dark.”