Page 26 of Unravelled
His breath was uneven now, his voice rougher, lower, barely a whisper, "You don’t owe me anything, Mira." Then he took a small step closer, closing the already small gap between them. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his scent wrapping around her. Steel, cedar, and something deeper, something that could only belong to him.
"Please." His voice brushed her ear, sinking into her like a hook. "Meet me at the Tahla tree. Midnight."
A slow, treacherous shiver coiled through her. She should have made him wait made him chase, made him ache for it. And Navigators, how she wanted to. She let the silence stretch, tilting her head just slightly, her lips curving into something wicked and teasing.
"Tonight, you say?" she mused, tapping a finger against her thigh as if considering. "I don’t know… I might have other plans."
He pulled back to look at her, his gaze sharpening, amusement flickering in the green depths of his eyes. "Other plans?" he echoed, one dark brow arching in challenge.
Mira lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug, her smile nothing short of wicked. "I might have better offers," she teased.
His green eyes narrowed in playful doubt his smile deepening. Slow and dangerous. He circled around her, until he stood behind her.
"How can I convince you," he said, his voice dropping low, almost a purr. Mira didn’t so much as flinch. She turned her head just enough to catch him over her shoulder, her smile sharpening.
"Just a flower," she said lightly. "But not just any flower. Bring the Tahla I gave you."
A low, rumbling chuckle left him, not frustrated, not annoyed. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying this far too much. He reached into his pocket, movements unhurried, and drew out a small, folded scrap of cloth. Nestled inside, perfectly preserved, was the tahla flower.
"You think I'd ever let it out of my hand?" he murmured, his smile slow and sure.
7
Soft voices pulled her from the haze of sleep. She kept her body still, the fire’s warmth brushing against her knees.
“You saw her tonight,” Ren murmured quietly. “She remembered. Not pieces. That crossbow shot was all her.” Mira’s chest tightened. She could hear the smile.
Tharion’s low voice followed, “She’s always been in there. Even afterwards.” Another silence. Heavier. "She’s not ready.” Tharion's voice stammered.
"There might not be a choice much longer, The Navigators will decide eventually..." A low sound of agreement.
Mira strained to catch the words. They were both whispering so quietly she could barely tell who was speaking.
“If you push this if it all comes back at once, she won’t survive it...” The fire popped, and she shifted.
Tharion cleared his throat. "We should get ready to move."Ren made a vague sound, neither agreement nor denial.
Mira heard the soft clatter of gear and the rustle of worn packs as the two men began gathering their things. They knew. Both of them. And they were keeping her in the dark. Why did Ren know but she didn’t? Tharion called out to Ren again, this time loud enough for Mira to hear,.
"Mira rides with me."
A moment later, footsteps retreated, leaving her alone with the quiet. She kept her head down for a beat longer, inhaling trying to center herself. The anger simmered, low and steady beneath her skin, but she forced it down. They had people to move. They needed to get home. Now was not the time for confrontation.
She sat up, rolling her shoulders, shaking off the lingering ache from the fight. The air was already warming, the kind that tasted like the hot summer buzz. Around her, the others moved quietly, voices low as they secured their gear and strapped down what little they had left.
Mira rose, gathering herself. She took the half-empty canteen from beside her bedroll and poured the remaining water over the fire, listening to the soft hiss as steam curled up into the morning light. The embers darkened, the last warmth fading. She tucked away the anger behind her ribs as neatly as the supplies on their carts.
She spotted Tharion by the horses, tightening a strap. His jaw set in that focused, too-still way that meant he wasn’t really thinking about what he was doing. She crossed to him, silent until her boots crunched softly over the dried grass. He didn’t look up.
“Good Morning,” she said, voice calm. Tharion’s hand paused on the saddle. He turned just slightly, eyes meeting hers.
“Morning." He paused " I know you heard us.” The words were simple. Not accusing. Not apologetic.
Mira nodded once, slow. His eyes searched hers, checking, maybe, for how much she’d taken in. How much she understood. All she gave him was anger, clear and steady, burning just beneath the surface. He looked away first, adjusting the saddle strap with a last tug. “We’ll talk more privately”
“Fine,” she said. A beat passed.
His voice was soft, almost careful. Without looking at her, he asked, “Are you alright after yesterday?”
