“And I will not survive a life without you,” he countered.
I tried to regain my composure, rolling my eyes in a desperate attempt to hide my fear. “Do not be dramatic. You hardly know me.”
Talon bent forward and pressed his forehead to mine. He closed his eyes, his dark lashes casting shadows against his skin.
“You cannot possibly comprehend how much you unmoor me,” he murmured against my skin. “You are my direction. If I had to choose between all the centuries I have lived and one single second in your presence, I would choose you. Without hesitation.”
I went very still. The world narrowed until there was only the heat of his body and the brush of the inky spirits against my throat. I looked up into his glowing eyes and saw no performance there.
“And that is not dramatic enough,” he added softly.
“Please, Talon,” I whispered, my knuckles white as I gripped the sheets. “I cannot do this.”
His spirits uncoiled from my neck, retreating back into his skin as his hand brushed my shoulder one last time. My eyes fluttered shut as his cool lips brushed the very top of my forehead.
“Remember, Kaelia,” he said. “You belong where you are wanted. And no one could ever want you the way I do.”
When he stepped back, he filled the doorway for a single heartbeat, a living shadow against the fading moonlight. Then, he was gone. He simply dissolved back into the darkness, leaving behind only the scent of smoke and the suffocating weight of his words.
I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling as the moon dipped below the horizon.
I bit my cheek until the tang of blood was sharp in my mouth.
I was caught between two fires—the one that would burn my family if I followed my heart, and the one that was already consuming me from the inside out. And I was not sure which one would finish me first.
17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The rich aroma of my mother’s famed mushroom and turnip casserole hit me the moment Hera and I stepped through the front door. It was a scent that had always been synonymous with comfort and the embrace of home. Tonight, however, it made my stomach turn a slow somersault with nerves.
“Kaelia!”
Mother’s apron billowed slightly as she bustled toward us. She paused abruptly in the archway, her gaze sweeping over Hera. “And this must be Hera.”
Hera offered a polite bow, her long hair falling across her shoulders. “It is, Lady Elara. Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home.”
Mother waved her off as my father emerged from the study, wiping his hands on a cloth before extending one to Hera.“Welcome. It is a pleasure to meet the one who so bravely agreed to stand with our daughter.”
Hera met his grip without falter, the tiniest, genuine smile ghosting her lips.
“Nice to meet you, Hera,” Lyra said, sauntering over with Theron at her side. She offered a gentle smile before gesturing to the man beside her. “This is Theron, my Elarthai. My better half, though he’d never admit it.”
Theron offered a respectful nod, his hand resting on the small of Lyra’s back.
“Dinner is just ready,” Mother declared, linking her arm through mine.
We moved into the dining room, where the table was set meticulously with the good linen and the polished silverware reserved for celebrations. The golden, bubbling casserole sat in the center, radiating heat and its savory aroma.
Father pulled out a chair for Mother, then one for Hera, gesturing for her to sit beside me. I slid into my usual spot, feeling the heat of the room pressing in.
“It is truly an honour to be here,” Hera said, picking up her fork. “This is a lovely home, Lady Elara.”
“Oh, please, call me Elara,” Mother urged, settling into her own chair. “And you, my dear, are too kind.”
The initial silence was broken only by the clink of silverware against porcelain as Father served the rich casserole.
He ladled a generous portion onto Hera’s plate first, then mine. Mother hummed contentedly, her eyes still flitting between Hera and me.