His jaw flexed, a subtle tightening that betrayed the first crack in his composure.
“Where is your fire, Kaelia?” he asked, stepping forward now, his knees pressing against the mattress. “You challenge everything that does not sit right in your spirit. You defy expectations, you mock tradition when it suits you. So why not fight for the truth?”
“Because I do not believe this is the truth!” I said furiously, heat rising to my cheeks. “The Sayel is a relic of a broken age. It is extinct. This is just your magic twisting my mind to get what you want.”
“You think I would fabricate that?” he asked, voice low and edged.
My chest tightened at the hurt that flashed through his eyes, so I chose not to answer that.
“What do you want from me, Talon?”
He leaned over the bed, his face coming so close to mine that the world narrowed to the icy blue of his eyes. I could feel his hot breath fanning across my lips, smelling of woodsmoke and the cold mountain air he had carried in with him.
“I want to feel your soul ignite mine, little flame,” he said quietly. “I want you to burn for me.”
My body warmed at the way he said it, at the way his gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
“Leave,” I whispered, though the word lacked force.
His eyes searched my face. “I refuse to let this go.”
Tears of frustration blurred my vision before I could stop them.
One part of me believed him.
Another part clung to Keeper Sora’s teachings, to the safety of doctrine, to the structure of a world that made sense even when it was cruel. It was easier to accept a system that demanded sacrifice than to accept that it might have lied about something this profound.
“Why?” I asked, voice cracking despite my efforts to steady it.
His gaze dropped the moment the first tear spilled free. His shoulders tightened and his breathing quickened.
He raised his hand to my face, his thumb brushing the tear from my cheek with an almost reverent touch.
“Do not cry, little flame,” he murmured. “It hurts me too.”
I swatted his hand away, though not as forcefully as I might have intended.
“Stop,” I choked, my breath unsteady. “Stop acting as though this is some grand destiny. You can let it go. You can walk away.”
His face hardened then, not into cruelty but into something strained.
“You think I have walked willingly alone for centuries?” he asked, the words vibrating with something dangerously close to anger. “You think I would grasp at this if it were not real?”
“I think you see an opportunity,” I whispered, though the accusation tasted hollow even to me.
The hurt that crossed his features this time was not fleeting. It lingered, etched into the set of his mouth, into the tightening of his eyes.
“Really, Kaelia?” he pressed, disbelief threading through his tone. “You truly believe I would flip an innocent’s life upside down for entertainment?”
“I do not know what to believe,” I confessed.
His expression shifted again at that, the anger receding.
“I know,” he affirmed. “That is why I cannot let this go. Not until you see.”
“Then you are a fool,” I said, because if I did not wound him, he would keep reaching for me.
His jaw tightened, pain flashing across his face before he sealed it away behind ice.