Page 122 of Unravelled
“I wish you could stand with me,” he murmured. She touched his face again, brushing a thumb along his cheek.
They both knew better, the implication if she did.In the stillness, in the morning hush, they stayed there just a little longer, the only place left where they were allowed to simply be.
“I’ll be with Tharion though” Ren’s breath hitched softly at her words, and his hand, already resting against her hip beneath the blankets, curled just a little tighter.
“I know and trust him,” he said at last, voice low, threading through the hush of the morning. “I trust you.”
He didn’t look away. If anything, his gaze grew steadier, the storm behind his eyes quieted by something deeper. “If it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s him beside you.” A pause, then something half-smile, half-sigh.
Over the course of the past few days, Mira and Tharion had found a quiet friendship. They ate meals together, sometimes laughing, sometimes just passing the time. And though the loss lingered like a shadow behind them both, there was something in Tharion that had begun to return.
A little more life in the way he carried himself. A little more light in his eyes. There was no pretense, no edges of what she had thought had once been something more. What remained between them now was something real. Grounded. Comforting. A new, fragile companionship not shaped by need or expectation.
Ren moved quietly, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound as he slipped from beneath the sheets. The early light washed over the room, pale and cool, stretching long across the floor. Mira lay still, watching him dress, memorizing the lines of his back as he fastened his belt and stepped toward the window. Then he froze, half-cloaked in shadow and early morning mist. His shirt hung open, and his hand still rested on the windowsill, body tensed for movement.
A sound split the quiet. A slow, deliberate clap. Mira sat upright in the bed, the sheets gathering at her waist, heart thudding. The sound rose again, measured and mocking. Then a voice, smooth as oil and twice as slick.
“Well,” it drawled from the garden below, “if I’d known how early you take meetings, I might’ve made an earlier appointment.” Ren's jaw clenched.
Mira was already out of bed, yanking her robe around her shoulders as she moved to the window. Below, half-shrouded in the creeping vines and dappled morning light, was Lord Asric. He didn’t smile, not really, but the glint in his eye was worse.
“I was merely out for a morning stroll,” Asric continued, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw our Regent taking his leave through a chamber window.”
He bowed, more performance than politeness, flashing a grin that never reached his eyes. "Still clinging to old habits, are we, heartbreaker?"
Mira’s skin prickled. Her pulse thundered. Not just from fury or fear, but from the sheer brazenness of Asric.
Asric grinned, "I do belive that is Lady Solwynd's I can see. What would her bonded say, I wonder?"
Ren remained still, unmoving. Asric held up his hands in mock surrender, his smirk widening. “Do not fear young regeant. Your secret is safe with me.” His voice was smooth, almost amused, but his eyes glinted with calculation. Dangerous. “Although I do have to ask a simple favor.”
He stepped forward into the soft spill of dawn light, his gaze flicking between Mira and Ren before landing on the prince with feigned ease. “A rather small request, really.”
Ren’s jaw tightened. The air around him seemed to tighten too. Asric took another slow step as he continued casually. “I only ask that when the King of Kharador arrives, that the Mira borrows something from him.”
Mira’s brows drew together. Asric sighed, as if explaining to a dim student. “A letter. A package. He will have both, likely tucked in the inner lining of his armor. Something meant for a different set of eyes.” He smiled. “And you, my dear, have always had such quick, delicate fingers.”
Ren shifted, blocking Mira from Asric’s sight. His voice dropped, a blade drawn in the hush. “You want her to steal from a hostile king?”
Asric’s smirk never faltered. "You think The War King of the West arrives without contingencies? He’s not just here to talk. There will be something, proof of a second alliance, a threat to us. I want to see it.”
Asric’s gaze lingered on her, then slid to Ren. “Her work would be a gift from both of you” he said lightly. “For my continued silence.”
He took his time with the next words. “You and I both know that Mira is the only one who can do this without suspicion.”
“If we refuse...” Ren growled, his voice low.
Asric's smile dropped. “Secrets tend to come out when left alone too long.”
The silence that followed was taut as wire. Ren’s fists curled at his sides, his breath held in check by fury he didn’t dare unleash.
Mira spoke first. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice low and steady.
Controlled fury simmered beneath every syllable. Because what choice did she have? If she refused, Asric would not hesitate to act. He wouldn’t shout her secret from the palace walls, not at first. He would whisper. Plant doubt where it hurts the most. Let it fester. Let it spread. To Danlea. To the council. To the people. She would become a liability. A traitor in the eyes of those already looking for someone to blame. And Ren, he would fall with her.
Mira’s pulse throbbed beneath her skin, her body still braced, even though she stood perfectly still. This wasn’t a choice. It was a trap disguised as diplomacy. She knew that. So did he. But better her hands than Ren’s name.
Better to give Asric what he wanted than risk the avalanche he’d already begun to loosen.
