Page 67 of Unravelled

Sunlight streamed through the windows, spilling across the bed in ribbons of light.

The dawn was soft and unhurried, the world holding its breath in the hush that followed the storm of the night before.

Ren’s fingers traced slow, aimless patterns along Mira’s bare back, his touch warm, grounding, a quiet invitation back to the waking world.

She stirred beneath the sheets, the coolness of linen kissing her skin as her eyes fluttered open. A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of her mouth before her gaze found his. He was already watching her, his head propped against one hand, dark hair tousled, eyes soft and still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

Mira’s smile widened, and she stretched languidly, the movement drawing a content sigh from her lips. He leaned in, brushing a kiss across her shoulder. But even as they lay wrapped in warmth and shared stillness, a flicker of concern crept into his features. He exhaled, slow and reluctant.

“Last night…” Ren’s hand slid from her back to rest against her waist, fingers flexing gently, as if the act of touching her helped settle the words.

“He saw us, Mira. At the height of it. You and me. Together. In front of the entire court.”

Her smile faded. “Asric.”

Ren gave a small nod, jaw tight.

“He saw. And he’ll use it. Maybe not today. Maybe not openly. But that man doesn’t forget things like that.That’s was the game last night. Collect enough secrets, enough leverage.”

Mira pushed herself up slightly, propped on one elbow, the sheet clinging to her skin. Her pulse beat harder in her throat. Her stomach twisted, fear flickering low in her gut, but it wasn’t fear of what he might do to her. It was fear of what he might try to do to Ren as the Regent .

Her voice was soft, but firm. “You don’t have to protect me from this. We face it together. I won’t be the weakness someone uses against you.”

The fear hadn’t vanished. It still sat there, coiled and waiting.

She had spent too long being protected, being sheltered behind the choices of others.

Not this time. She wouldn’t be hidden. She wouldn’t be a pawn in someone else’s game.

Not even for him. Ren’s gaze searched hers, his fingers brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek.

“You were never a weakness.” he said quietly,

Mira inhaled, steadying herself.

“I’m with you, Ren.” She hesitated, “Brahn and Torvyn don’t see that yet. They still think I need to be managed. I can help you.”

They lingered in the quiet after that, wrapped in a stillness. His fingers resumed their path along her spine, soft and slow. But even as they lay wrapped in warmth and shared stillness, a flicker of responsibility crept into his features. He exhaled, reluctant.

“I have to go,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Council meeting. Early and infuriating.”

She groaned, muffling the sound against her pillows. Ren dropped his head to meet her eyes.

“Do you remember the first council meeting in the observatory?”

Her eyes opened, still fogged with sleep, but she nodded faintly. Ren smiled.

“I wasn't ready to rule,” he said with a quiet laugh, turning to face her. “Not even close.” He paused.

“Everyone down there talked like power was owed. Inherited. But you made it feel like it was chosen, Like could choose to help."

Her voice was quiet, almost teasing. “Wasn’t it yours, anyway?”

He looked at her. “It wasn’t my blood that convinced me to take the Regency." he said, voice low. “It was you.”

The words hung there, tender and unshaken.

Mira reached out, brushing a thumb along his jaw, memorizing the soft stubble, the curve of his mouth as he smiled.

She adored everything about him in that moment, the sleepy husk of his voice, the way his gaze lingered on her like she was the only thing that steadied him.

He rose, finally, slowly, with the stiffness of a man who didn’t want to leave. Mira watched him dress, taking in every familiar motion, the stretch of his arms as he pulled on his shirt, the quiet hum he didn’t know he made.

When he reached the door, he turned back to her. “I’ll find you later.”

Mira stretched beneath the sheets, her bare leg sliding against the warmth he’d left behind. “Not if I can convince you to stay...”

He laughed, low and genuine.He paused, her words lingering in the air like a challenge wrapped in silk. Without a word, he crossed the room towards her, each step sure, inevitable. Mira propped herself up on one elbow, watching him with lazy delight as he reached the edge of the bed.

He leaned down, bracing one hand beside her, the other curling gently under her jaw.

“If I could stay here between your legs I would.” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “but I’ll remembering your tase all Navigators damned day.”

He kissed her. It wasn’t hurried, or teasing, or even entirely sweet. It was deep and slow and full of all the things he hadn’t said when he'd dressed in silence.

His thumb brushed along her cheekbone as their lips met, and the warmth of him poured into her like sunlight. When he pulled back, it was with a reluctant sigh, his forehead pressing briefly to hers.

“I'll find you as soon as I am done” he whispered, and then he was gone.

Mira lay still in the quiet hours that followed, the ghost of his touch lingering. Her mind was clear. She had made her choice and now, it was time to face the consequences.

???

Mira found Tharion in the guard barracks, his back to her, adjusting the buckles on his armor.

The room smelled of steel and sweat, the sharp tang of polish clinging to the air.

The sounds of clashing blades and shouted orders drifted in from the training yard, but Tharion remained focused, his movements precise, controlled.

She hesitated for half a breath before stepping forward. “Tharion.”

He turned at the sound of her voice. His eyes flickered over her, taking her in, searching, but for what, she didn’t know.

He exhaled, the tension in his posture shifting, though not disappearing. “Mira.”

A fresh bruise bloomed along his hand. Her chest tightened, the image of him hitting Brahn still sharp in her mind.

Her voice was fragile. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” He offered a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Her fingers itched to reach out, to brush against the mark on his skin, to offer some comfort, but she held herself still.

She wasn’t sure if he would accept it, or if she even had the right to offer it.

Instead, she extended her hand, palm up, the simple gesture a quiet bridge over the chasm between them.

“Walk with me?” A beat of silence stretched between them.

With a slow nod, he tightened the last strap of his bracer, rolling his shoulders, and took her hand. Together, they stepped out into the open air.

The gardens stretched before them, a wild contrast to the barracks' rigid order. Sunlight streamed through the leaves, creating dappled shadows on the stone paths below. rainstorm gentle breeze carried the scents of rain-soaked earth and roses from last night’s storm.

They walked in silence. Not tense, but thick with apprehension, like the hush before a storm neither of them wanted to name. The crunch of gravel beneath their boots was the only sound between them for a long while, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

A memory stirred. Unbidden, insistent, pulling Mira back to what they had been, and the fragile, shifting shape of what they were now.

???

The training ring lay half-buried beneath a thin crust of snow, the frost-cracked earth beneath Mira’s boots as hard as stone.

Each breath hung in the air, a cloud of white against the slate-gray sky.

The winter chill gnawed through her layers, but she hardly felt it, not when the dagger in her hand was cold steel and the hulking figure across the ring wore a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Tharion stood with his arms crossed, a mountain draped in worn leather and frost-kissed furs.

His brown hair was a tangle of strands, and his breath plumed around him, a pale cloud that drifted away too quickly.

He moved slowly, purposefully, the snow crunching beneath his heavy boots as if he were careful not to break the world beneath him.

“Are you going to keep staring me down, or actually take a swing?” His voice was a rumbling challenge, a warm ember against the encroaching cold.

Mira rolled her shoulders, the weight of the dagger familiar, the smooth hilt worn by years of practice. Nothing too big, he’d told her once, back when the snow was fresh, and the sky wasn’t so heavy.

“You’ve got to learn to slip the blade in, not just shoot an arrow through their head.”

She slid her boot against the snow, finding her stance. “I’m just waiting for you to blink,” she shot back, her breath puffing out in small, white clouds.

“Oh, she has teeth.” Tharion raised his own dagger, the blade looking almost comically small in his massive hand. He twirled it with surprising finesse, the metal catching the dull winter light. “Come on, then. Show me.”

She moved, quick as a hare, her feet a soft whisper against the frozen ground.

She closed the distance between them, dagger low, her body a coil of potential energy.

Tharion’s eyes tracked her, sharp and bright, but there was something else there too, a shadow behind the light, a weight that neither of them spoke of.

She feigned left, her dagger darting toward his side, but he pivoted smoothly, his large frame a wall of muscle and fur.

He caught her wrist, twisting just enough to make her drop the blade, and in the same fluid motion, he pulled her off balance.

She hit the snow with a soft thud, the cold biting through her clothes, the impact rattling something loose inside her.

“Too slow,” he said, his tone more fond than mocking. Mira huffed, her breath scattering snowflakes.