“Great,” I mutter. “A chance.” But we both know that even if the storm is still raging, we have to leave. Who knows what condition Dawson is in. If he’s even still alive. I shove that thought aside, refusing to dwell on negative possibilities.
I tear into my food, chewing thoughtfully. Kael’s still watching me, his hands moving slightly—either adjusting the energy transfer or just… touching me.
Kael watches me as I chew, his fingers still radiating warmth against my stomach. “Dawson needs to be saved. Prince Aelith….” He trails off, and I swallow my food, wondering what he really thinks of the prince I’ve been taught to distrust and who he’s been trained to protect. “I understand why you and the Riftborn are wary and don’t trust easily. But since Dawson, everything has changed for the prince.”
The food in my stomach sours. From the moment Dawson touched Terrafeara, the prince, of all people—one of the royal heirs sworn to enslave Riftborn for their mother—was willing to turn his back on everything.
Kael, though… he didn’t change. Not whenIarrived. Not when the rift ripped me from everything I knew and threw me into this world, into a life I never asked for.
I swallow the bitter taste rising in my throat and push the food around in my palm, the warmth of Kael’s hands still sinking into my skin. Why didn’t he change? Give up everything?
He chose duty. He chose the prince. He chose to ignore me.
I exhale sharply. “Must be nice. Having someone flip their entire world view for you. Drop their whole life, abandon everything they believed in, just because you exist.” I let out a dry laugh, though it holds no humour. “I bet Dawson will be thrilled.”
I wince, pleased Kael can’t see my face. Dawson has done nothing wrong—hell, his life is at stake—but sometimes, the bitch in me is strong. Feeling scorned hurts like a motherfucker.
Kael doesn’t speak for a moment. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest against my stomach, his touch still steady. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. “You think he doesn’t deserve that devotion?”
I shift uncomfortably. “That’s not what I—” I sigh, rubbing at my face with one hand. “It’s not about Dawson. It’s about… how fast everything changed for him.” I let my hand drop back to my lap. “For me, it’s been over two years. I fought for every scrap of trust, for every bit of ground I gained. I bled for it. And I still don’t know where I stand half the time.”
Kael’s fingers flex against my skin again, and I angle myself so I can look back at him. A muscle jumps in his jaw, but he says nothing.
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Not that it matters. You made your choice a long time ago.”
His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine. “And what choice was that?”
I raise a brow, like it should be obvious. “Duty. Loyalty. To him.”
Something in his expression shifts. “Sonny?—”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, waving a hand. “I get it. You have a job. And you’re good at it.” My lips curl into something wry. “But you don’t get to act surprised when I point it out.” It doesn’t matter that he said he was wrong and he’s sorry… right? Two fucking years he effectively abandoned me, deciding even before he met me that I wasn’t worth… well, anything.
And fuck if I don’t hate myself a little for not being able to let this go. But this is me. Warts and all. I absolutely have issues for days.
Kael exhales slowly. His hands are still on me, still warm, still steady, but I can feel the weight of something pressing down between us. A long moment passes. Then another. Finally, he speaks. “Do you truly believe I wouldn’t turn my back on everything for you?”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I freeze, my breath catching, my pulse stuttering against my ribs.
Kael doesn’t move. Doesn’t break eye contact. He just watches me, like he’s waiting for me to understand something I refuse to believe.
Do you truly believe I wouldn’t turn my back on everything for you?
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know what to think.
Except… “Is this only because the prince has found his mate? Do you feel like he’ll give you permission now?”
Kael’s eyes darken, something like frustration flickering across his face. His grip tightens—just slightly—where his hands rest against my skin, the heat of his touch pulsing through me. “I don’t need his permission.”
I scoff, looking away, focussing on the rough stone walls instead of the intensity in his gaze. “Don’t you?”
He exhales sharply. “You think so little of me?”
I swallow hard, the words getting stuck in my throat. “I think….” I hesitate. “I think you’ve spent your whole life putting him first. That’s what duty is, right? That’s what you chose.”
His fingers flex again, like he’s resisting the urge to grip me tighter. “Duty is what I was born to do,” he corrects. “But you—” He inhales, steadying himself. “You are what I choose.”
