Page 75 of Unravelled
“Mira.” Her tone was softer now, almost laced with curiosity, but never without control. “Is something wrong?”
Mira hesitated, her hand grazing the cold frame of the door. Perrin had been a mentor once. A friend, maybe. But now? She wasn’t sure where she stood, or who she could trust. The truth hovered, unspoken.
Instead, she offered a smile. Thin. Measured. “Everything is fine. I just...need to see him.”Perrin’s pale eyes lingered on her a moment longer, veiled and unreadable. Then she dipped her head, graceful and composed.
“Very well.” She didn’t press, but Mira felt the weight of her gaze even after she’d turned away. It wasn’t a lie. She was looking for someone.
The halls stretched before her, narrow and winding, the sconces casting long fingers of shadow along the stone. Her boots whispered over the polished floors, and with every step, her heart beat harder against her ribs. She felt the pull of urgency, a thread winding tighter, drawing her toward Ren’s quarters.
Mira reached the double doors and paused. The dark wood was carved with intricate patterns, vines and Tahla leaves entwined around the frame. She reached for the handle, but the faint echo of footsteps caused her to snap back, her instincts pulling her into the alcove just beyond the archway to hide.
She pressed herself against the wall, breath shallow, eyes half-closed as the sounds drew closer. The cool stone bit into her back, grounding her as her pulse thundered in her ears. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d followed the echo of familiar voices by instinct, by need. But now, rooted in place, she couldn’t move.
Ren’s voice cut through the quiet first, a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. “You think she knows?”
“Not yet,” Tharion replied, his voice steady but edged with something she couldn’t name. “But she’s getting close.”
The words dropped like stones into still water, sending Mira’s thoughts scattering in every direction. She, they were talking about her. A flicker of anger sparked behind her ribs, low and hot. Her? Like she was a threat.
“You were supposed to protect her,” Ren continued, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper that lost none of its intensity. “Not let her stumble blindly into the jaws of this.”
Her breath caught.
“I’ve done what I can. Do you think it’s easy? She has her own mind, Ren. She always has.” Tharion’s muttered.
“Don’t you think I know that? Her mind is not the point,” Ren hissed.
Mira’s stomach twisted. The words were wrong in his mouth, like chains wrapped in velvet. Her mind. Her choices. When had she become a burden to manage?
Tharion’s voice strained “I thought you wanted her to remember.”
Mira bit down on the inside of her cheek, the sharp sting of pain anchoring her to the moment. Blood bloomed on her tongue, copper and salt. Silence stretched between the men, thick and suffocating. She could almost see them through the wall, Ren’s fists clenched at his sides, Tharion’s jaw tight with frustration. The air around them burned with tension.
“She made her choice,” Ren said finally. His voice was quieter now, but no less absolute. “In the end, it should be her to choose...”
Mira’s thoughts spun, untethered. Choose what?Choose to remember? Choose to restore whatever her dream meant? To choose him? The weight of their words pressed against her lungs. They were keeping this from her. Something dangerous. She could feel it, like the edge of a blade sliding under her skin.
“Trust takes time to rebuild and we’re not there yet,” Tharion admitted, voice rough. “Not after... everything.”
“That’s on you.” Ren snapped.
Mira’s fists curled at her sides. The heat of her fury built slowly, creeping up her spine. Why was Ren giving Tharion orders about her?
“You think this is all on me?” Tharion said, voice low. “You’ve been playing your own game with her since the start of this.” Ren didn't answer.
Mira heard Tharion take a step forward, “You keep talking about what she should choose, but everything you do pushes her toward the outcome you want." Ren’s breath hitched.
His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper but sharp with feeling. “Of course I am.”
His words bloomed in Mira's chest. Sudden and bright, like warmth catching flame in a cold room.
Ren continued, “Because it’s my fault. All of it. And if I don’t guide her... if I don’t try to protect her, she’ll get hurt again.”
A rush of something fierce and breathless surged through Mira. Relief, maybe, at hearing him speak with such raw protectiveness. But it twisted almost instantly, turning sour. They were going inside now. She heard the door creak, their voices dimming as it shut behind them. Still talking. Still deciding. About her. Without her. Like she was something to manage, to protect, to control. Her hands trembled.
It was Ren’s fault. The words landed like a blow, sharp and staggering. He’d said it himself. Not just guilt, responsibility. Her thoughts spun, crashing into one another. What had he done? What had he broken? Had all of this, their stolen memories, the dreams, the Kharadors, started with him?
Her pulse pounded, furious and erratic. And Tharion? Had he known? Had he been helping him, guiding her down a path they’d laid out together? Her stomach turned. The weight of their secrets pressed down on her chest, thick and suffocating.
