I don’t trust this, I should not trust this, but his voice is the same as it always is. Low and deliberate. Calm beneath the urgency. His glamour flickers, barely, but I’ve seen that before. That doesn’t mean he’s fake. If anything, it cements that he might be—
And his eyes, they look like they did that night he wrapped my wrists. When he said he was proud. When he touched my jaw and then didn’t kiss me.
“Tell me what happened,” he says, gentler now. “I was summoned. A council meeting. I felt something change. And then I heard you—gods, Kay, you screamed. I thought—”
“You felt something?”
He nods. “You always hum at the edge of my senses, but this was different. It was like the forest shouted your name.”
I swallow hard. That sounds like something he would say. Somethingonlyhe would say. I don’t move; afraid I’ll shatter the moment. The anger is gone, like smoke after lightning, but the ache is still there. Deep. Twisting.
“How’d you get in?”
He frowns, like the question doesn’t compute. “Through the arch.” His fingers twitch at his sides. “I thought I lost you.”
That gets me. Not because I believe it, but because I want to. I want it so badly my ribs tighten around the need. He’s marked, the Ember Heir. He might be the one giving me realm threads or whatever they’re called, but his loyalty is to Crimson first.
“What if I said you almost did?” I whisper, not sure which version of him I’m speaking to.
Caziel’s gaze darken, hungry and intense, the way it looked the other night. I shiver.
“Then I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.”
My pendant pulses once against my collarbone. I flinch, startled by the warmth, and press my palm to it. Caz doesn’t seem to notice. He’s already reaching for me, and gods help me, I reach back. He gathers me like I belong to him, like this was always going to happen. His arms wind around my waist, his hand sliding into my hair. His mouth hovers over mine, waiting just long enough to feel like a choice.
I tilt my face up and his lips almost meet mine, but he stops.
Just barely. He pulls back with effort, like it hurts him to do so. “Not here,” he murmurs. “Not unless you’re sure.”
Something inside me cracks open, and I laugh. Just a little. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Let me choose.”
“Of course,” he says, brows drawing together like he’s confused it would be otherwise. It feels… real.
The kiss is everything I imagined. It starts soft, then deepens, hot and unsteady. My body remembers this hunger, the way heat pools low in my belly, the way lips part and hands explore. I melt into it, my fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders. I want to stay here. I want this to be real. Could it be real?
Maybe the trial is over. I haven’t walked out of the arch yet, but I fought back in the cabin. I didn’t let myself give in to the temptation. The desire to stay, to give up, to quit. Maybe he came for me. Maybe this is how it all ends. Not with fire, or blood, but with him.
There’s an itch beneath my skin. A prickle of doubt. A whisper I can’t quite hear. I break the kiss, breathless.
“Wait. Caz—” I glance around. “Are we… is this still—?”
He doesn’t answer, trailing kisses down my neck, his touch rougher now, hands wandering more boldly. Do I even care? We’re still surrounded by lush green forest, too still, too heavy. My ears almost feel like they’re ringing, but Caz is real. He walked through the arch to find me. We just have to walk back together. The cabin was the trap.
“Caz?” I whisper. “This is still the trial, isn’t it?”
His jaw tightens. The forest rustles behind him, pine needles whispering things I don’t want to hear. I take a step back He watches me. Waits.
“I don’t want a lie.”
He hesitates, then drops his chin in a nod. “We can leave. Walk through the arch together. Finish this.”
I look up at him. “You’d do that?”
“If that’s what you want.” He gestures gently toward the edge of the forest. “Come on. We’ll go back. Together.”
