Page 66 of Unravelled
Mira’s breath caught, just for a moment. She didn’t move. And Navigators help her, this was what she had waited for. Not permission. Not pity. But this, someone who saw the weight of what she’d done and wanted to carry it with her. Who would have stood beside her, played his part, not to take control but to make her stronger. Not Tharion’s cold logic. Not the council’s approval. This.
Ren met her gaze, and this time, the fire in his eyes burned hot with jealousy, regret, longing, and a fierce kind of admiration.
"Careful," she warned. "You sound jealous."
Ren glanced down the corridor where the advisors had quietly dispersed, then shifted. His hand came up, bracing against the wall just above her shoulder. He leaned in, not close enough to touch, but close enough for the air to shift between them. His eyes met hers, steady. Unreadable.
“Would you care if I was?” The silence stretched, taut as wire. Mira’s breath caught. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, too loud, too fast. She didn’t blink. Didn’t drop her gaze.
“Yes,” she breathed. It was only a whisper. But Ren exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for days. His hand pressed firmer to the wall above her, as if steadying himself. As if stopping himself from reaching for her entirely.
"You have no idea what it felt like, do you?" he said, voice rough around the edges. "Rumours started trickling in, and I couldn’t think straight. Hearing what you were doing out there. What you were risking." His eyes never left hers. Mira’s breath hitched. With a slow, deliberate movement, Ren leaned in, almost close enough to kiss. His voice dropped to a murmur, intimate and dangerous.
"And all I could think about was riding to Seacliffe myself, walking into that place, into that room, and showing him exactly how impossible you are to resist..."
A darker part of her thrilled at the way he tensed. She couldn’t help it, it was too easy, too delicious, drawing that fire from him. For a heartbeat, she pictured it...
Seacliffe, the room heavy with perfume and pretense, and Ren stepping through the door. No hesitation. No questions. His hand would settle low at her back, fingers spreading with the kind of ease that suggested long-held intimacy, the kind that didn’t need explanation. Then he’d lean in, slow and deliberate, mouth brushing the edge of her ear, lips close enough to graze but never quite touch. Ren wasn’t justclaiming her. He was offering the illusion of a challenge. She’s not yours yet, it whispered. But maybe she could be, if you were bold enough to take her.
Mira knew she shouldn’t toy with him like this, but she couldn’t help it. Her voice was low, almost a purr. “I wonder… how would you have played the part, Ren? Kissed me like I was yours?”
His jaw clenched. "I wanted to see you in that shadowlace," The words hung between them, electric and heavy and painfully honest. "undoing it, piece by piece, with my teeth."
Mira's breath caught, sharp and quiet. Heat licked up her spine, pooling somewhere low and molten. The image he painted struck with brutal precision, too vivid, too real, and she felt her grip on control fray at the edges. There was no manipulation here, no staged seduction. Just Ren.
He leaned in, close enough that his breath stirred the curve of her neck, and whispered against her ear. “I wanted him to watch. To see what it looked like when you weren’t pretending.”
Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat. She could taste the want in his voice. Rough and aching and it curled around her like smoke. Whatever game they’d started, it was no longer clear who held the reins.
Her breath caught, trembling in her chest like a secret she’d tried too long to bury. Every inch of her ached to close the distance. To give in. To let it all burn. But she didn’t have the chance.
Ren stepped back, not far, but enough. Enough to draw breath between them. Enough to reclaim the space before either of them crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. He exhaled. A slow, deliberate release. The heat didn’t vanish, but it cooled. Contained now, drawn back like a blade into its sheath.
“You were right Mira, we can’t keep circling.” he said, voice thick but steady. Mira opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, not in anger, but finality. His jaw was tight, but not cruel.
“But you need to know something, Mira.” His voice dipped, rough with the weight of it. “You’re it for me. And if the memory of these moments, of you, is all I ever get, I’ll take it. Gladly.” He paused, the fire still there, but tempered now. “But I won’t chase you..but you need to choose.”
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. The ache in Ren’s voice, the truth in his eyes. It tugged at something deep and ancient inside her. But then she thought of Tharion. Of the bond between them. Real, rooted, chosen. Even if the memories still sat just out of reach, she had seen a spark of him in Seacliffe. The man he used to be. Theone who had once held her heart with quiet strength. And despite everything, he had stayed. Suffered. Waited. They deserved the chance to rebuild what they had lost.
“I'm sorry Ren, I...” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but unwavering.
Ren gave a slight shake of his head, just enough to stop her. “You don’t owe me anything. I knew what this was.” A pause. His eyes burned, but the fire wasn’t wild anymore. Just steady. Focused. Her heart twisted as she looked up at Ren.
“You love him,” he said. Not a question. A truth he was making peace with. Something shattered in Ren’s eyes, but then he blinked, and what was left was resolve.
“And so you should,” he added, softer. "If I were Tharion, I’d want you to choose me too...”
Her lips parted, the beginning of a question she didn’t know how to ask. But with one last look at her, he turned and walked away.
She stood there for a long moment after he left. Not moving. Not breathing, really. The air still hummed with the echo of his words, and something deep in her chest ached, sharp and silent. Her heart felt bruised. Like pressure pressed into a soft place she hadn’t protected.
???
She slipped in to the altar, the crowd of attendants parted slightly as Cleric Perrin stood at the center. Her robe dragging over the floor as she moved to the raised step where offerings were once laid.
“She’s coming herself,” Perrin announced, her voice low but clear. “The Queen of Myrdathis has agreed to meet with the advisory council and newly appointed Regent one week from today.”
Gasps stirred the circle. Mira stiffened. Myrdathis. Their queens did not travel. They sent dreams. Declarations. Seers. Never the Queen herself.
