Page 5 of Unravelled
“Struggling with what, exactly?” she asked carefully. “If the Crowned Betrothed understood the scale, he might step in.”
Tharion exhaled through his nose, the sound soft but weighted. “He won’t,” he said, quieter now. They turned again, his grip gentle but sure. “We’ve been fight Kharador for almost a year. He hasn’t spoken to a single township in months. He’s... not responding to the requests.”
“Torvyn could help if you tell him what’s needed.” she mentioned. Tharion’s steps faltered slightly, and for the first time, his composure slipped.
“He can't do anything Mira, they need everything.” he said, the word brittle with restrained exhaustion. “Blankets. Food. Tools. Anything that reminds them that even without the Queen, Bharalyn is still standing.” He looked away. “They’re scared, Mira. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep promising things I don’t have the power to give.”
The Queen’s punishment had given them one mercy. Sparing them both from complete disgrace. Mira had been relegated to the service of Cleric Perrin. Her position as the daughter of a royal advisor had once poised her to become a lady-in-waiting, her future rooted in courtly grace and political promise. Perrin, who oversaw the palace staff and the affairs of the Altar of Bharas, had accepted Mira under her authority. The cleric directed Mira’s days, serving both the palace and the altar, as she moved between dust-laden books in the library and the meticulous preparation of ceremonial rites and the endless rhythm of invisible work that kept the palace breathing.
The Advisory Council had presented Tharion the position of Underguard Steward, a shadow of his former role in the Royal Guard. Now he led hastily trained volunteers from scattered border villages. Coordinating defenses and the delivery of scarce resources. He had borne the demotion with quiet fury, channeling his energy into the villages he now served.
But the spark that once defined him had begun to fade, dimming with each passing day. The joy that used to light his eyes, the cheeky jabs and charm she once expected, had vanished. He no longer reached for her hand, no longer pulled a smile from her with a well-timed grin. What had once been effortless between them now felt fragile, distant, as if their bond was being slowly burned beneath the a ceaseless flame of obligation and loss.
Mira’s chest tightened as they returned to the practiced steps of their waltz. She followed his lead, but each step felt like a fading memory of something that used to bebrighter.
He was still Tharion, but the weight of his burdens was slowly eclipsing him, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
???
They left not long after the dance ended, and Mira could already see the exhaustion hanging off Tharion like a second skin. It trailed behind him as he walked, heavy and silent, all the way to the washroom. His steps were slow, too slow. She knew he hadn’t touched the heated bath in days, choosing instead the chill of a bucket and sponge. The punishment he thought he deserved.
Mira sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. He undid his armor piece by piece, fingers moving with a kind of bone-deep fatigue. Each strap took longer than the last. His hand paused over his chest, like even undressing cost him more energy than he could afford. When he struggled with the chest piece, Mira stood and crossed the room to him.
Her voice came softly, carefully. “Let me help,” as she reached for the clasps, wanting to take even one burden from him. But he leaned away before she could touch him.
“I’ve got it,” he said, quiet but firm. The wall between them rose in an instant. Mira froze, her hands suspended between them before she let them fall.
Her voice wavered. “Tharion…” He wouldn’t look up, and the words withered on Mira’s tongue.
He pulled the chest piece free and let it fall to the floor with a dull, final thud. Then his tunic followed, peeled away with a grunt, exposing the scars across his back and chest. So many. So new. All of them had come after they were bonded. And just for a moment, their eyes met. Mira saw him. Guilt. Pity. Regret. He turned away and disappeared into the washroom.
The door clicked shut. Mira stood there, staring at the door, feeling the weight press deeper into her chest with every second that passed. She shut her eyes and reached for a prayer with desperation. A plea to the Navigators. To fate. To anything. Something to hold her still. Something to keep her from letting go.
???
The silk of her gown sliding off her shoulders like a sigh. His steady, reverent hand anchored her to the moment, to him, its warmth a grounding presence. Tangled with the wild heat between them, the sweet and heady scent of tahla blossoms still clung to the air. His laugh sounded raw andbreathless. The way it cracked her heart wide open. The taste of him on her lips. His breath against her throat, every word a vow he branded into her skin. The way the bond sang, alive and surging, threading through her like wildfire. Her own fingers in his hair, clinging,grounding. The moonlight on his skin. Their bond pulled at them relentlessly, a powerful thread that left them breathless.
???
She opened her eyes, her breath hitching. Fragments of the memories Queen Sarelle had locked away had flickered at the edges of her mind since her death. Even through the haze, glimpses surfaced occasionally. Like cracks in a window.
Moving with careful purpose, she undressed, her hands deftly loosening the ties. The dress slipped off, pooling silently at her feet. Barefoot, she stepped lightly across the room. She reached out, pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. The soft sound of water floated towards her and through the crack, she saw him.
Tharion was standing chest-deep in the water, his back to her, muscles taut and unmoving, his head in his hands. The faint mist from the bath curled upward, cloaking the air in a humid warmth. With a quiet inhale, she stepped inside, the cool tiles beneath her feet a stark contrast to the heavy warmth that filled the room. She didn’t speak, letting the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the soft drip of water from the faucet fill the silence.
Carefully, she slid into the water. The heat enveloping her up to her neck. She moved toward him, her presence barely disturbing the surface of the water until she was close enough to reach out. Her fingers grazed the scarred planes of his back. He tensed beneath her touch, the motion sharp and instinctive.
Undeterred, she began tracing the roughened muscle with all the gentleness she could. Leaning in, she pressed a featherlight kiss to his shoulder, her lips against the warmth of his skin.
“Mira, don’t.” Tharion’s voice was low. His hand caught hers, not rough, but firm, and slipped her hand away from his skin.
“Why won’t you let me touch you?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
Tharion turned slowly, deliberately. The surrounding water stirred with the shift, rippling outward as if it, too, felt the quiet change in the air. Mira was still heart pounding. She met his eyes and searched for something behind them. A reason. A truth. Anything that would explain the distance he kept putting between them.
“Mira,” he sighed, exasperated, but more weary than anything. Her chest clenched at the look on his face. The pain etched into every line. The way his brow furrowed. She shut her eyes. A single tear slipped free, tracing a silent path down her cheek. “You don’t see it, what I see,” he said, voice low, frayed at the edges. “All I see is…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. The silence between them stretched, heavy, trembling.
“…suffering, Mira. That’s all there is. It’s everywhere. In the streets. In the shadows. People being torn apart for bloodlines, for crowns, for pride.” His voice cracked, just barely, but she heard it. Felt it. The gentle slosh of water stirred between them as he shifted. He shook his head, trying to drive the images away. “I can't let it go. Every loss. Every failure.” His jaw tensed, the frustration in his eyes dimmed by exhaustion. “Every day, I try to do something, anything, to help” His breath faltered. He looked at her then, truly looked. “So when you look at me like that" His voice faltered, softer now. “I don’t know what to do.”
