Chapter 71
Chapter 71
The moon hangs low over Avarnys Castle, a silver coin floating above the dark velvet of night. The air is sharp, laced with the scent of pine and the distant crackle of torches guarding the walls. The castle sleeps, or at least pretends to. War does not allow true rest.
Alina stands at one of the eastern balconies, her arms braced against the cold stone railing. The wind pulls at her hair, loose from the braid she wore earlier, the white strands dancing like ribbons against her back.
She hears him before she sees him.
No footsteps, just the subtle shift in energy. The quiet tension that always fills the space when Valen Rhaelyor enters it.
He steps into view, tall and shadow-cut, dressed in black. His presence is more silence than sound, more storm than fire.
Alina doesn’t look at him. Not yet.
“You always find the coldest places to stand,” Valen murmurs, his voice low, dry.
“I could say the same about your company,” she replies smoothly.
He huffs a soft, near-silent laugh and leans against the railing beside her.
They watch the horizon in silence for a moment. A distant fire glows faintly in the east—what’s left of the village torched by Magnus’s men.
Alina doesn’t speak first.
“You didn’t sleep,” Valen says after a while.
She doesn’t deny it.
“Neither did you,” she says.
He glances at her then, and for the briefest second, she meets his eyes.
Something flickers between them—recognition, challenge, heat.
“You should rest,” he says. “You’ll need it.”
“I’ll rest when I know Magnus is dead,” she replies, voice steady.
Valen studies her, arms folded loosely across his chest. “You’re burning yourself out.”
“Maybe I need to,” she says. “Maybe that’s what it takes to kill someone like him.”
He doesn’t answer. But the silence isn’t empty. It presses in around them, full of things unsaid.
She turns to face him fully now, her silver eyes sharp beneath the moonlight.
“Do you not trust me, Valen?”
He doesn’t flinch. “I do.”
“Then why do you look at me like I’m seconds from shattering?”
“Because you are.”
The words are quiet. But they hit harder than any blade.
She draws a breath, sharp and icy. “You think I’m weak.”
“No,” he says instantly. “I think you’re carrying too much alone. And pretending it doesn’t crush you.”
She steps closer to him now, the distance between them narrowing into something electric.
“I don’t have the luxury of falling apart.”
Valen’s jaw tightens. “Neither do I. But that doesn’t mean we don’t bleed.”
Alina searches his face, reading every flicker of restraint in him. She sees it—the worry buried beneath his calm, the fire beneath the ice.
“I’m not asking you to save me,” she says. “I don’t need saving.”
“I know,” he says. “You’d tear the world apart before you let anyone do that.”
A beat passes.
Then she asks, softer now, “Then why are you here?”
His answer takes longer.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe because every time I think I’ve figured you out, you surprise me. Maybe because you fight like a storm and break like glass. Maybe because… I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.”
The honesty in it steals her breath.
She steps back, unsure for once of what to do with the tension curling through her chest.
“You hated me when we met,” she says.
He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You hated me harder.”
“You were arrogant.”
“You were impossible.”
“You gave orders like I was one of your soldiers.”
“You acted like you’d bite my throat out if I blinked wrong.”
She scoffs, but her lips twitch.
A silence stretches again, this one softer.
Valen straightens, stepping just close enough that their arms nearly brush. His voice drops.
“You scare me, Alina.”
That stills her.
She blinks, caught off guard. “Why?”
“Because when I’m around you…” He exhales. “I stop thinking clearly. I want things I shouldn’t want. Things that can’t happen—not when everything we care about could burn tomorrow.”
Her heart beats faster. “You think this is just about war?”
“No,” he says. “That’s what terrifies me.”
She says nothing.
And in that silence, he moves just a fraction closer.
His hand lifts—not touching her, not quite—but hovering, like he’s testing the idea of it.
“You’re fire and ice all at once,” he says. “And I don’t know how to survive you.”
Alina’s eyes burn with something she refuses to name.
“Then don’t survive me,” she whispers. “Match me.”
He inhales sharply.
But he doesn’t kiss her.
He doesn't touch her.
Instead, he just stares, the pull between them undeniable now. Taut. Breathless.
And then he steps back.
“I should go,” he says.
“Coward,” she murmurs.
He stops.
Turns back.
“Not coward,” he says. “Just waiting for the right moment.”
“And when will that be?” she asks.
He looks at her for a long time.
Then: “Soon.”
And then he’s gone, swallowed by the shadows, leaving her with a racing heart and a storm rising behind her ribs.
Alina doesn’t move
The wind dances through the balcony, tugging at her hair, wrapping around her like a cold embrace she no longer notices. Her body is still—composed, as always—but her thoughts are anything but.
She hates that he can get under her skin. Hates that his words echo in her chest longer than the wind ever could.
No one has ever said that to her—not like that. Not as a confession.
They’ve feared her power, her reputation, her lineage. But not her. Not the woman beneath it all. And yet Valen… he sees her, somehow. And that might be the most terrifying thing of all.
She presses her palms against the railing and leans forward, staring out into the night.
What scares her more than anything is that he’s right.
She remembers how he looked at her. Like she was the last thing he’d ever protect. Like he wanted her, not just for the war or the throne or the cause—but her.
The raw, damaged, unrelenting version of her.
The truth is, she doesn't know if she can give him anything back. Not right now. Not yet.
G
But maybe… soon.i
Just as he said.
She finally pushes herself away from the railing and turns back toward the castle interior. Her footsteps echo as she walks the corridor alone, but this time, her heart isn’t frozen.
It’s burning.
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