Kael doesn’t touch me at first, but his emotions brush against mine—thick, concerned, coiled tight like a cord stretched to breaking. I feel him in my chest, not just in my thoughts, and I instinctively reach out, sending him the pulse of reassurance I’ve come to understand how to give.
“I’m okay,” I say softly, watching the way his jaw clenches before relaxing a fraction.
Without a word, I take the lead, guiding him through the winding corridors of the settlement towards my quarters. We attract attention. I feel it—eyes tracking us, whispers beginning before we’ve even passed. It’s gonna spread faster than a bushfire tearing through dry outback scrub.
Still, I walk a little taller. With Kael’s presence behind me, somehow I don’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. The gossip doesn’t sting. I’ve never had time for bullshit, and damn straight I have a backbone of steel.
My door creaks open, and Kael pauses just inside the entryway, his luminous eyes taking in the room. His gaze lingerson the copper-like pipework webbing the walls, a remnant from the original structure this space once belonged to. Warmth hums through the pipes, one of the few luxuries in Dathanor.
Without a word, he eases me back, step by step, onto the bed. I sit, watching him scan the room like he’s assessing for threats. His expression softens when he finds the smoothed-out stone that I use for a washbasin, and I remain silent as he takes a cloth, wets it, and wrings it out before returning to kneel in front of me.
The cloth is cool against my skin as he dabs gently at the cut on my cheek. I flinch. He stills instantly.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“S’okay,” I mumble. “Just a little prick.”
He huffs. “Zeyv is more than a prick.”
I grin through the sting. “So you knowthatword.”
His eyes narrow, but his lips twitch. “We have a word that means the same.” He says something I can’t begin to pronounce. It rolls off his tongue like a curse wrapped in velvet. “It translates to… ‘vile-born waste of a clutch.’”
I bark out a laugh. “Bit dramatic, but I’ll take it.”
He finishes wiping my face, then runs his thumb gently under my eye where I feel a bruise forming. His touch lingers, featherlight, before he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek.
The tenderness in it sucker punches me. It’s soft, careful. A wordless apology. A balm to the aching space between us. He kisses me again—this time on my mouth. A warm, firm press. Nothing demanding. Just confirmation that he still wants this. Still wants me.
But does he want me enough?
He pulls back and frowns slightly. “What’s wrong?”
I sigh, letting my eyes flutter shut. “Varek gave me an update on Dawson.”
Kael straightens, just a little. “He’s still not well.”
I nod. “What about Aelith? He looked….” I trail off, unsure of how much to say.
His silence stretches. “He’s not good,” he finally says. “He’s… not fully himself.”
There’s something off in his tone, a hesitation that makes my stomach clench. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Kael hesitates. “He’s been pushing his energy into Dawson.”
My head jerks up. “Wait—what?”
He settles beside me on the bed. “I didn’t realise at first, but now it’s clear. He’s transferring his own energy… his life force. It’s keeping Dawson alive.”
“That’s… that’s insane.” I stare at him. “Is that a Glowranth thing?”
He nods despite his frown. “Apparently. It can only be possible between fated mates. I don’t know much, but I don’t think it’s a conscious act. It’s… instinct. Compulsion. Aelith’s body is doing it because Dawson is slipping away.”
I feel sick. “Does Aelith know?”
Kael shakes his head. “He wasn’t aware at first, not fully. He was just… willing Dawson to live.”
“Does anyone else know this can happen?” I run a shaky hand through my hair.
