Page 15 of Unravelled
Her eyes caught Ren’s, and he tilted his head. A glint in his eyes. He’d caught her admiring him. Mira snapped her eyes to the salted filled ground. Mercifully, he said nothing, but she could feel his satisfaction rolling off him.
He continued, his voice calm yet sharp as he adjusted the leather gloves on his hands. "If they wanted to use the land for themselves one day, salting it would make more sense. It ruins it for now, but not forever."
Mira looked at the soil, the weight of Ren's words settling heavily on her chest. The Kharadorians weren’t just mindlessly destroying, they were planning, thinking for the future. This wasn’t just an attack. It was a calculated move to strip the land ofits people and their hope while keeping it primed for their own future use. Tharion’s jaw tightened, his voice low and hard. "They’ve condemned these fields to years of suffering."
A whistle rang out, cutting through the birds. The drivers signaled it was time to move on. Mira hesitated, her gaze lingering on the desolate fields for a moment longer, before turning away. She left Tharion and Ren where they stood and climbed back into the carriage.
A few moments later, the door creaked open. Ren stepped inside, Mira looked up, her eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Ren’s lips curled into a smile as he shut the door behind him. "Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for the next leg," he said lightly, his tone teasing as he removed his cloak and gloves, settling into the seat across from her. Mira shifted in her seat, trying not to stare as Ren sprawled out comfortably across from her.
The carriage jolted slightly as it began moving again, the rhythmic sound of hooves and wheels filling the silence between them. She forced her gaze out the window, determined to keep the silence, but she should have known better than to expect quiet from him.
"You know," Ren began, his voice laced with playful mischief, "this feels familiar, doesn’t it? You and I, in close quarters." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. Mira spun her head, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t speak. Ren’s grin widened, and his voice dropped lower, making the already-small space between them feel impossibly intimate. "The way you looked at me. The way we..."
"We did nothing," Mira’s cheeks warmed as heat crept up her neck. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "It was nothing."
Ren let out a soft, knowing laugh, shaking his head as if he found her reaction endlessly amusing. "Nothing?" he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief. "Funny, that's not what I remember. In fact, it seemed like we were…”
"I wasn’t doing anything," Mira snapped. Her body stiffened as she shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of how close he was. How his presence seemed to fill the entire carriage.
Ren chuckled, leaning back with that infuriating ease of his, the glint in his eyes unmistakable. "You can keep pretending all you want, Mira... but I know we both felt it." His gaze lingered on her lips.
"What are you doing here, Ren?" Mira’s voice, sharp and trembling with fury.
"Do you think I’d miss the chance to ride alongside enemy territory with you?" he drawled. Mira shot him a look sharp enough to cut. Heat prickled at the back of herneck anyway. Ren’s grin only widened, "Tharion needed someone who knows the streets of Anyerit and let’s be honest, I’m prettier than the rest of the underguard."
Mira snapped back at him, "Do you have no respect, for me, for Tharion, for the bond we share?" Ren didn’t answer. He sat across from her, his elbows on his knees. She shook her head, the heat behind her words softening just enough to let the hurt bleed through.
"We’re friends... but" She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on his. Her voice rose again, more bitter now. "he is more than your friend, he’s practically your brother."
???
The slam of the doors startled Mira so violently she nearly dropped the brush from her hands. She’d just stepped out from the bathing chamber, steam still clinging to her skin, the warmth of the water a fading comfort. The silk robe at her waist hung loosely, damp tendrils of hair curling against her collarbone. She saw the figure standing in the doorway, even though candlelight flickered across the walls. Ren. His chest was heaving, eyes wild, searching the space as though expecting something, someone. Raw and unguarded, his presence was a stark contrast to his usual effortless charm. His gaze landed on her, and for the briefest second, something passed over his face, something so open and full it made her breath catch.
“Mira,” he said, the word ragged, broken. She froze, confusion knitting across her brow. Why was he looking at her like that? Like he was seeing a ghost. As if she were lost. Before he could speak, she tilted her head and called lightly over her shoulder.
“Tharion?” Ren flinched. It was barely a twitch, but Mira saw it. His expression cracked. Something inside him crumpled. Her brows drew together. She took a tentative step forward. “Ren…?”
Tharion stepped into the room. His eyes flicked between them, and Mira caught the tightness in his shoulders, the stillness in his face. Ren swayed, and suddenly he was on the floor. He dropped to his knees like something had buckled inside him, hands curled against the stone as a sound tore from his throat, a sound that didn’t belong in any palace chamber. A sob. Raw. Gutting.
She moved forward instinctively, but Tharion was faster. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view, kneeling at Ren’s without hesitation. His hand clamped around Ren’s shoulder. Not harsh, not forceful, steady. Like a pillar. Mira stopped, stunned. Ren collapsed into Tharion’s arms, his body shuddering as though it couldn’t hold the grief inside him.
Mira stood there, unmoving, watching the way Tharion gripped him, not just holding, but anchoring. Containing the storm. She felt like she was watching something intimate. Something she wasn’t supposed to see.
“I know,” Tharion murmured, his voice level. Too calm, too carefully held. “I’m sorry, Ren.” The bells tolled. One slow, sonorous note after another, each strike of bronze reverberating through the stone walls like a dirge. Mira’s eyes snapped toward the tall windows. Not a celebration. Not a warning. Death. One ruler had passed. One of Ren’s parents, adoptive or not, was gone. And in that tolling, Mira realized it didn’t matter that blood hadn’t bound them. The grief she saw in him was when the person who loved you despite everything, was suddenly gone. She knew that grief.
Mira’s chest tightened, and her heart dropped. She could feel it now, the grief hanging thick in the room like smoke after a fire. She glanced down at Ren, curled into Tharion’s arms, and the pang in her chest deepened. Tharion's hand cradled the back of Ren’s neck, his other arm firm around him.
Mira had seen Tharion calm soldiers, seen him carry wounded boys home on his back without a word. She’d never seen him like this with Ren. Not protective. Not commanding. Brotherly.
Tharion’s voice lowered. Meant only for Ren. Mira didn’t catch the words, but they sank into the space like a balm. Ren’s sobs didn’t stop, but they slowed. Less jagged. Less loud. Still, Mira stood frozen.
“I should go,” she began, but her voice didn’t carry. Neither man looked up. She stepped back into the steam-warmed shadows of the chamber, her robe still damp, her heart thudding in her chest.
???
“After everything he does for you Ren, this is selfish. And you know it." Ren shifted like he was about to speak, but Mira cut him off before the words could form, "We are struggling, Ren." Her voice dropped colder. "He’s barely holding himself together. And instead of helping him, you’re here playing games with me."
