Page 53 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
I raise my eyebrows. “Rocky how?”
Phoebe twists her fingers together. “Nate thought I’d lost interest because I was always buried in research. I barely saw him for days sometimes.”
“And had you? Lost interest?”
“No! I was just trying to find you.” She sighs. “But then Nate tried making me jealous by pretending to fancy Lyra Windshaper.”
“Did it work?” I ask, grinning despite myself. The gossip feels wonderfully normal, a stark contrast to missing goddesses and kidnapping assholes.
Phoebe nods, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “I confronted him after a very intense battle. My emotions were running high, I guess. Told him I thought there was something real between us, and if there wasn’t, he needed to be a man and tell me straight.”
“What did he do?” I lean forward, hungry for this simple human drama.
“He scooped me up and twirled me around right there in front of everyone.” Her expression softens with the memory. “I was so confused at first.Then I realized...”
“What?”
“He was just craving my attention.” Phoebe shrugs. “Sometimes that’s all it takes… someone to see you.”
The words land in my chest with unexpected weight. To really be seen. Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? What I feared?
“Go,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice. “Before Nate stages another jealousy plot to win you back from these dusty books.”
She smiles and walks out, leaving me with a realization.
Vaylen has seen me.
Not the façade I constructed since the Academy, not the tough Skysinger who’d face anyone, but the real me. He knows it all, every dark corner and jagged edge of my soul, and instead of turning away in disgust, he told me he loves me.
Suddenly, the words from that night in the tent replay inside my mind.
I love you.
Simple. Direct. Unflinching. The memory sends a shiver down my spine. Goosebumps rise on my arms.
When he first said it, I was too numb, too lost in the fog of my return to truly feel the significance of those words. But now, with my mind clearing like skies after a tempest, his confession strikes me with full force. Three words that should terrify me now feel like wings unfurling inside my chest.
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smile. Vaylen Everett Stormsong loves me. The knowledge blooms inside me, warm and unexpected.
I push back from the table, suddenly restless. I want to see him. Not tomorrow, not after his meeting, but now. I want to catch him alone in some quiet corner of the fort and thank him properly for standing beside me. For believing me when I said I don’t remember. For searching when others would have given up.
The wordsI love youstill stick in my throat, not quite ready to emerge. But there are other ways to express what’s building inside me—ways that require no words at all.
I rise, my body tense with newfound purpose, but reality crashes down around me like a poorly constructed Wind Wall. I can’t simply run through Fort Ashmire hunting for Vaylen. What would I do if I found him? Pull him to me and kiss him senseless in front of everyone?
“Wyrm’s rot,” I mutter, sinking back into my chair.
What good is purpose when one can’t act? I tap my fingers against the ancient text, frustration building.
I want him. I need him.
And for once, the feeling isn’t solely physical. Something deeper pulses beneath my skin, something I’ve never allowed myself to feel before.
But Fort Ashmire has eyes everywhere. Walls have ears. Whispers travel faster than dragons on a tailwind. One mistake, and we’re exposed. How long can we dance this precarious dance? A week? A month? Every stolen moment increases our risk. I close my eyes, remembering the press of his lips against mine in that tent. Worth it.
Whatever comes next, he’s worth it.
I know one truth about secrets, though. They never stay buried. Like water, they find every crack, every weakness, and eventually burst free. Our truth will surface too, and when it does, I pray we’re ready for the flood.
