Page 130 of Unravelled
Wanted to listen. Wanted to trust.Wanted him. Slowly, Mira turned. Her gaze met Tharion’s, and in his eyes, she found no judgment, only quiet encouragement. A small nod, steady and sure, passed between them like a gift. He understood. He approved.
Carefully, she reached for Ren, giving him her hand.
40
They moved through the quiet halls, their palms a warm tether in the hush of the darkest hour of the night. No light touched the stone beneath their feet, no promise of warmth. Only shadows stretched long and silent, curling into the corners like watchful specters.
Each step echoed off the arched ceilings, a soft rhythm, a breath between them. The garden door groaned as Ren pushed it open and the night met them. The chill wrapped around her, threading its icy fingers through the thin fabric of her pink dress. She shivered, a tremor running down her spine.
She glanced at him as they walked, the curve of his jaw, the way his hair tousled at his neck, the determined set of his shoulders. The stone path crunched softly beneath their feet, flanked by darkened hedges and trees that stood bare and skeletal, the winter stripping them down to nothing.
The full moon draped over them in silver, turning dew to diamonds, shadows to velvet. Ren’s grip tightened, a grounding squeeze. He felt her faint tremor, the way her pulse fluttered beneath her skin.
They were headed towards the Tahla tree. The silver leaves shimmered, a cascade of light and shadow, the gnarled trunk twisting from the earth, bark veined with pale luminescence.
Mira stopped. Her feet refused to move, her body frozen, locked in place. Her hand slipped from his. The absence of his touch was a sudden cold. Ren turned to her. She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding against her ribs.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice unraveling. Her breath came shallow, uneven. She forced herself to speak again, her voice barely more than a breath. “I haven’t been here since Tharion and I bonded.”
Ren took a step closer, his voice low, steady. The words wrapped around her like a promise. “Just trust me a little further?”
She swallowed, the taste of old grief rising, thick in her throat. But she took a step forward. And then another.
The Tahla tree loomed, ancient and wise, and with every step, she felt the weight of the past pressing against her. Ren’s hand found hers again, and together, they cam to stand beneath the silver canopy.
“Close your eyes, Mira,” he whispered, his voice curling against her ear.
Her breath hitched. She was nervous, the kind of nervous that shivered beneath her skin, that made her heart trip over itself.
Mira let her eyelids drift shut, her world shrinking to the dark behind her eyes and the warmth of his hand in hers.
She could hear the soft rustle of leaves above, the delicate crunch of frost underfoot as he shifted. Time stretched, the moment fragile, balancing on the edge of something vast.
“Ren, what are we doing here?” her voice barely more than a breath.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
His fingers tightened around hers, grounding, unyielding. “I love you.”
He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t hesitant. He was absolute. A truth spoken into the cold air, one that could never be taken back.
He didn’t stop. “You have always been my heart, even when I didn’t deserve you.” The words cracked. “And I’m sorry, for everything that has happened. For what they did. For what I couldn’t stop.”
His free hand came to cradle her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek. “I can’t take it back, Mira.” His voice was raw, aching. “but I can try this. I can try to bring you back to me.”
A rushing feeling filled her chest, like an inferno burning through her. She swayed. Ren’s arms were around her, pulling her in, pressing her against the solid warmth of his body.
Her heart pounded, a wild, thunderous beat that seemed too loud, too fast. She could feel it at her wrists, her neck, a rhythm that pulsed through her entire being. It was too much. Surging, overwhelming. As if every nerve ending had been awakened at once.
She couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell too fast, the air burning in her lungs. Her hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the fabric of Ren's shirt, seeking something solid in a world that had suddenly tilted.
Her knees buckled. Ren guided them both to the ground, his movements slow and careful. The cold earth pressed against her through her dress, cooling the fire beneath her skin.
His voice whispered through the burning, low and steady, a thread to cling to. But she could barely make out his words over the rushing in her ears.
His hands cradled her face, his palms cooling against her skin. His thumbs moved in soft, grounding strokes along her cheekbones.
In the distance, the palace bells tolled. Loud. Unrelenting. But Ren didn’t move. Didn’t let her go.
