Chapter 35 CHAPTER 36
Darius noticed it in the morning.
Not immediately. Not when he woke alone—he was used to that now. Not when he dressed in the quiet of the chambers or reviewed reports at the table by the window.
He noticed it when he reached for the bond out of habit—and felt only a soft, distant warmth.
Still there.
But not leaning toward him.
He frowned, pressing inward, seeking the familiar echo of Elowen’s presence. Usually it answered at once, a gentle pull, reassurance woven into instinct.
This time, it answered slowly.
Carefully.
As if she were choosing how much to give.
Unease settled into his chest.
He found her in the courtyard later that morning, speaking with Mira near the fountain. Elowen was calm, composed, her posture relaxed in a way that should have reassured him.
Instead, it made his pulse quicken.
She laughed softly at something Mira said—a real laugh, unguarded. It struck him with unexpected force. When had he last made her laugh like that?
She turned then, noticing him.
“Darius,” she said warmly. “Good morning.”
She didn’t move toward him.
That, more than anything, told him something was wrong.
They walked together toward the council chamber.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did I wake you when I came in?”
“No.”
Her answers were polite. Even. Complete.
Too complete.
He searched her face for strain, for pain—but found none. She looked… settled. Grounded.
And distant.
“Elowen,” he said slowly, stopping near the archway. “Have I done something to hurt you?”
She met his gaze, steady and clear. “Not intentionally.”
The words landed harder than any accusation.
“I never would—”
“I know,” she said gently. “That’s the problem.”
He stared at her.
She inhaled, then exhaled. “You are pulled in many directions. I’ve tried to meet you where you are. To give space. To make it easier.” Her lips curved faintly. “But I realized I was the only one bridging the distance.”
His chest tightened.
“So I stopped,” she finished.
The bond pulsed faintly between them, as if in agreement.
The council meeting passed in a blur.
Darius contributed, commanded, decided—but his attention kept drifting back to Elowen. She spoke when needed, listened when not, her presence steady but restrained.
She no longer touched his arm when making a point.
She no longer met his gaze instinctively.
She was still his Luna.
But she was no longer orbiting him.
By afternoon, the unease had grown into something sharper.
He passed her twice in the halls. She smiled both times. She didn’t stop him.
He ate without her for the first time without realizing it until the meal was done.
The bond felt… quiet.
Not broken.
But waiting.
That evening, Darius sought her out deliberately.
She was in the herb room, sorting dried leaves with careful precision. Mira was gone.
“Elowen,” he said softly.
She turned. “Yes?”
“I miss you,” he said.
The words surprised even him.
She studied him for a long moment. “I’m here.”
“Yes,” he said. “But I’ve been acting like you’ll always be. Like the bond will always stretch to meet me.”
Her gaze softened—not with relief, but with sadness. “It does. Until it can’t.”
A chill ran through him.
“I didn’t mean to neglect you,” he said. “I never stopped loving you.”
“I know,” she replied. “That’s why this hurts.”
He stepped closer. She didn’t step back—but she didn’t step forward either.
“I need you to come back to me,” he said quietly.
Her eyes glistened. “I need you to notice when you leave.”
The bond flickered—stronger now, but unsteady.
Down the corridor, Seraphine paused in her steps.
She felt it—not through any mystical bond, but through instinct sharpened by patience.
Good, she thought. Now he sees it.
She continued on, expression composed, her presence still careful, still respectful.
She would not rush.
The most devastating fractures always formed slowly.
That night, Darius lay awake beside Elowen, staring at the ceiling.
She slept peacefully, turned slightly away from him.
For the first time since Seraphine’s return, fear crept into his chest—not of loss, not of choice—but of consequence.
He had assumed the bond would hold.
He was beginning to understand that it required care.
And that realization had come frighteningly late.