Page 89 of Unravelled

Ren turned to his partner with practiced ease, exhaling slowly as he forced himself to play his part.

But just as the dance was ending, just as he was about to step away, Ren felt the sharp bite of her jealousy dull, replaced by something more measured, more controlled.

But it wasn’t gone. No, it had shifted into something far worse. Satisfaction.

His eyes searched for her as he turned, as the music swelled, as the court blurred around him until he found her. A hand extended toward her. Ren’s heart stopped. Tharion knew. He knew how Ren felt about Mira, yet still offered his hand to her.

His chest went tight, burning. He trusted Tharion. He did. But something in him rebelled, twisted, roared at the sight of Mira letting herself be led onto the dance floor by someone else. The moment their hands met, she lifted her chin. Ren’s steps faltered.

"Apologies," he said smoothly, releasing her hand at the final note.

Each of these women were trying to charm him. Each one failed. But their parents? Their parents were watching. Calculating. Waiting for any sign of interest. Between dances, one of them approached.

Lord Edric, father to Lady Sienna. "Your Highness," he greeted smoothly, hand outstretched. Ren took it. Firm shake. Calculated grip.

"Your daughter is a fine dancer," he said.

"She was hoping for a second." Ren offered a smile that meant nothing.

"A shame, then, that the court is so full of hopeful women tonight."

Edric hesitated. A beat too long. Then, a bow, tight, forced. "Of course, Your Highness."

Ren exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. The next woman arrived before he had time to prepare. She was lovely enough, though her mother loomed at her side like a predator circling a meal.

Ren barely caught their names before the mother nudged her daughter forward, practically presenting her like an offering. He resisted the urge to sigh. Then, an idea struck. It was reckless. It was perfect.

Ren didn’t fight the smirk that curled at the corner of his lips as he extended his hand. "Shall we?"

The young woman flushed as she placed her hand in his, her cheeks warming at his touch.

"It would be my honor, Your Highness," she said breathlessly.

He led her onto the dance floor, smoothly guiding her into position as the music swelled around them. She was eager, practically glowing with the attention.

"Your mother seems determined," Ren remarked as they stepped into the first movement of the waltz.

The young woman’s eyes widened slightly before she let out a nervous laugh. "She believes we would make a good match."

Ren smiled, charming, effortless. The words meant nothing. Because even as he danced, even as he kept his movements fluid and precise, he was already positioning them carefully, subtly shifting his steps. Waiting.

His partner, oblivious to his true intention, continued, "You must be overwhelmed with all the attention tonight."

Ren’s gaze flicked across the room. And then, the moment arrived. He twirled his partner away. Because when this waltz dictated they switch partners

Mira spun into his arms. His fingers curled around her waist, firmer than necessary, pulling her close, closer than he had held anyone else tonight. Mira landed against his chest, breath catching, eyes widening in surprise.

Ren smirked, his grip unwavering, voice smooth as silk. "If you wanted to dance with me so badly, you could have asked."

Mira exhaled sharply, her hands instinctively pressing against his shoulders. "What are you doing?"

Ren leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. "Dancing."

She narrowed her eyes. "This is reckless”

"And yet, having you in my arms, is the highlight of this evening."

The music swelled around them, the ballroom blurred away as Ren moved with her, his steps slow, deliberate.

"Tell me something" he murmured, his fingers trailing along the small of her back. "Did you enjoy dancing with Tharion?"

Mira arched a brow, amusement flickering behind her frustration. "Did you enjoy parading yourself around for every eligible noblewoman in the kingdom?"

Ren’s smirk deepened. "I hardly noticed them." Mira tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming

"You know," he mused, voice dropping lower, "I did enjoy one thing about tonight."

Mira sighed dramatically. "Let me guess. The sheer variety of available options?" Ren chuckled, spinning her effortlessly across the floor, refusing to let her go.

"Never," he said, drawing her even closer, until their bodies were flush, until he could feel the warmth of her beneath his hands. "I enjoyed those little spikes of jealousy you kept throwing my way."

Mira stiffened slightly, and Ren could feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice careful.

She lifted her chin, forcing a look of cool indifference, but he felt the tension in her, felt the pull between them like a thread stretched taut. Mira’s lips parted slightly, but her brow furrowed, a flicker of hesitation, uncertainty.

"That’s not possible," she said, but the words were too soft. "We’re not bonded, Ren."

Something dark and electric twisted inside him at the way she said it. Because he wanted more. Needed more. The bond between them was already woven into every part of him, pulling him toward her in ways he couldn’t fight, couldn’t ignore.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. Because he wanted her to feel it, too.

Wanted her to know, with every breath, with every heartbeat, that he was hers.

Wanted her to ache for him the way he ached for her, to feel him even when he wasn’t there, to wake up knowing he was part of her as much as she was part of him.

Because she already had him, fully, completely, irreversibly.

???

Two years before

Candlelight flickered against dark wood-paneled walls, the scent of parchment, ink, and warm embers curling through the air. The silence pressed down on Ren, heavier than any armor he had ever worn.

Near the hearth, Queen Sarelle stood poised, her golden-threaded robes pooling at her feet like liquid fire.

Her expression was unreadable, but Ren knew better.

She had already predicted this conversation, already weighed every possible outcome.

Across from her, King Caelric lounged back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp eyes unreadable.

He was calm, controlled, but Ren could sense something beneath it. Waiting.

Tharion was standing awkwardly near the door, shifting his weight like a man awaiting execution. Ren didn’t need to ask why he was here. The idiot had let it slip. Ren shot him a glare, sharp, laced with silent expletives, but Tharion only grimaced, helpless.

Caelric broke the silence first. "I assume you have something important to tell us."

Ren inhaled, steadying himself. "I love her," he said simply. "And I will not be without her."

The words shattered the quiet like a hammer against glass. Sarelle didn’t move. Caelric exhaled slowly through his nose, unreadable. No sharp retort, no immediate anger. Just a long, unbearable silence.

Finally, Sarelle spoke, her voice soft, knowing. “And you are going to bond with her?”

Ren lifted his chin. “Within the year, she has already agreed.” His voice did not waver.

Sarelle inhaled sharply, but it wasn’t anger that flickered across her face. It was quieter. Knowing. A recognition that ran deeper than approval, not a blessing, but understanding.

Caelric’s placed his hands against the table. His voice came low, taut. “You cannot be this na?ve.”

Ren’s jaw tightened. “I am not asking for permission.”

Sarelle’s eyes stayed fixed on him. “Does she know?” she asked quietly. “The truth of your lineages?”

Ren paused. “No.”

Sarelle’s face didn’t change. But her gaze lingered on him for a beat too long.

The kind of knowing only a mother possesses.

She let him lie, not because he’d fooled her, but because she saw no danger in the love he had chosen to share the truth with.

No threat in the girl who now held his heart.

No reason to strip it bare before he was ready.

She simply inclined her head, measured and calm, an unspoken grace given without permission or need.

"At least you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself," Caelric muttered.

Ren said nothing. Because if he knew the truth, if his father realized who Mira was, and that she already knew everything, this conversation would end with guards escorting her here, shackled or worse.

Caelric studied him for a long moment, sharp-eyed and unsparing, before speaking again. “Do you genuinely believe anyone will bond the two of you?”

Ren had hoped. But hope was a dangerous thing.

“Do you think you can find someone who will bind you without a blessing?” Sarelle’s tone was calm, almost gentle. Beneath it was something quieter still. Sympathy. Something that understood what it meant to want what the world would never willingly give.

“You know how difficult it is,” Sarelle continued. “We, of all people, how impossible it is without the Navigators’ Acolyte's sanction.”

Ren didn’t answer. A strange weight settled over the room. Caelric let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping once against the arm of his chair.

“What your mother is saying,” he said, “is that you have time, Ren.”

Ren’s breath hitched. “And how long do you expect us to wait?”

A pause. Sarelle’s lips parted, then closed. And then, finally, "Until you are both twenty-seven."

Ren blinked. “…Twenty-seven?” His pulse thundered in his throat.

Caelric did not waver. “That is the law of this kingdom.”

Ren laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just disbelief, bitter and raw. “The law?” He shook his head. “You tried to bend the law when it suited you. And now suddenly it’s sacred? How is this any different to what you did?”

Sarelle looked at him, quiet, but there was no denial in her eyes. "You are asking us to risk everything, Ren.”

Caelric’s voice was still controlled, but now edged with something harder. "Your future. This kingdom. Your life. For a choice you do not have to make right now."

Ren’s hands curled into fists at his sides as he exhaled sharply. "Bonding with her won’t expose me."

Caelric exhaled, his tension unrelenting.

“A bond will tie you together in ways you cannot imagine. And when people take notice of that, they will wonder why the bastard prince has been allowed to bond ahead of any noble-born heir.” His eyes narrowed.

“They will demand to know why. And if the answers do not satisfy them, they will find the truth themselves.”

Ren’s breath was ragged. His hands curled into fists. He forced himself to breathe, steadying his voice even as it trembled at the edges.

"We're already connected," he said quietly.

There was no triumph in the words. No challenge. Just truth, laid bare and heavy in his chest. Silence. Thick. Weighted. Sarelle’s expression flickered with concern. Caelric stiffened. Barely. But Ren saw it. A fracture in his father’s control.

Sarelle recovered first. “What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet now, cautious.

Ren exhaled sharply. “I feel her. Not just when she’s near.” He swallowed, his throat tight. “When she’s anxious, I feel it. When she’s happy, it’s like a fire in my chest.” His hands raked through his hair. “And when she’s hurting...” His voice cut off. Raw. Unraveling.

Sarelle’s brows furrowed. “Ren, that’s not possible.” But it was. It had been happening for years.

His fists clenched. “Then explain how I can feel her.”

Silence. Neither of them spoke. Ren inhaled sharply.

“You bargained me away before I even drew breath. You sealed my fate before I ever had a chance to claim it. And now you tell me I have no choices left?” His voice rose, anger slipping through the cracks.

Sarelle’s breath caught. Cleric's expression darkened.

Ren’s breath came fast, shaking. “You did this,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You made a deal that will cost me my love in exchange for yours.” His words cut through the silence like a blade.

And then, raw, unguarded, "If I was only ever meant to be payment, if I was only ever meant to be sacrificed for the price of your love, then why have me at all?"

The silence was suffocating. Sarelle looked at him then, and for the first time in his life, Ren saw unfathomable grief in her eyes. She turned, meeting Caelric’s gaze. Something passed between them.

Sarelle exhaled sharply, her fingers trembling at her sides. "You are not a sacrifice," she whispered. "You are our son." Silence. Sarelle turned back to Ren, her voice soft, final.

“If you can find an acolyte, then you have our blessing” Ren swallowed hard. "Otherwise, you will wait until twenty-seven."