Chapter 60 Chapter Sixty
Kaelani woke with a gasp, the dream clinging to her like fog—his scent still lingering, pain hollowing her chest. For a moment, she didn’t move. Her hands gripped the sheets, her throat tight with the words she hadn’t spoken.
Her lashes fluttered. A tear slipped down her temple, soaking into the pillow.
She sat up slowly, as if the weight of it all might pin her down again. Her hands moved to her face—brushing away the wetness, steadying herself with a deep, shaky breath.
But the ache didn’t fade. It thickened.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the night air cool against her bare skin. Her robe hung across the chaise like a ghost of calm. She yanked it on and crossed the chamber in silence.
The hallway beyond was dim, lit only by flickering sconces that cast long shadows across the walls.
She paused in the doorway, then called out softly—barely above a whisper.
“Draevyn?”
Nothing.
She tried again—louder this time, her voice edged with frustration.
“Draevyn.”
Still nothing.
Her jaw clenched as she moved briskly down the corridor, the hem of her robe sweeping behind her. Her voice rang out once more—raw and cutting.
“Draevyn!”
At the base of the staircase, a figure stepped into view. Soraya’s brows lifted in gentle concern, her hands clasped before her as if trying not to startle an injured creature.
“Your Grace,” she said softly. “Is everything alright?”
Kaelani didn’t slow. Her footsteps echoed as she descended.
“Where is he?”
Soraya hesitated. “He’s in a sanctum chamber. Meditating. He gave orders not to be disturbed.”
Kaelani let out a sharp laugh—furious, breathless.
“Oh, he doesn’t want to be disturbed?” she muttered bitterly. “Well, neither did I.”
Before Soraya could respond, another voice cut through the hall—low, amused, and unmistakably Draevyn’s.
“You call for me like a wife calls for a wayward husband,” came his drawl from the top of the grand staircase. “Should I be afraid?”
Kaelani turned and locked eyes with him, every nerve ablaze.
“You had no right interfering with my dream-walk,” she snapped.
It wasn’t just accusation—it was disbelief, violation, and fury all tangled into one.
“You’re right,” he said, descending a step.
“But I wasn’t about to let him twist your bond into a leash.”
His gaze never wavered.
“You may not see it yet, but he was trying to drag you back into chains—and I won’t apologize for cutting them first.”
Kaelani’s fists clenched at her sides, the weight of his words still burning in her chest.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she bit out. “I don’t need a guard dog—and I can handle my own affairs. My relationship with Julian doesn’t concern you.”
Draevyn’s expression didn’t falter. His voice was calm—too calm—but every word struck with precision.
“And yet… if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be clinging to the illusion that he ever saw you as enough.”
He descended another step, eyes glinting like steel.
“It took seeing your power for him to finally think you were worth a second look.”
The words sank deep, slicing through something tender. Her wolf stirred with a low snarl, bristling at the audacity more than the cruelty.
Kaelani’s voice cracked—not from weakness, but from the storm building behind her restraint.
“You don’t know him.”
Draevyn stopped at the bottom step.
“And you do?”
Kaelani didn’t answer his question. Her gaze sharpened, chin held firm.
“Let me be clear about one thing,” she said, tone cutting but composed.
“I haven’t agreed to be anyone’s anything.”
Draevyn’s resolve remained ironclad—though his expression softened just enough to betray something real beneath the formidable veneer.
“And I never asked you to.”
His voice was quiet, but threaded with certainty.
“But I will say this.”
He took a step closer, his stony composure giving way to a sudden warmth.
“I know what it feels like to be chosen… as if your worth depends on who sees you. As if love has to be earned, proven, bled for.”
His words were tempered, but they found their mark with precision.
“But I don’t want to make you feel chosen, Kaelani.”
“I want to show you what it means to feel… anointed.”
That word landed like an oath—weighty, sacred, undeserved by most.
“You don’t owe me—or anyone in this realm—anything.”
“But you do owe yourself a chance to be acknowledged, loved, and respected without condition. And I’d like the opportunity to show you what that looks like.”
Draevyn was standing over her now.
His gray eyes pierced into hers, unrelenting. He smelled too good—woodsmoke and something beguiling. His shirt hung open just enough to reveal the muscled expanse of his chest, the sharp line where strength met sin.
Her Fae blood stirred.
But something deeper screamed wrong.
Her soul recoiled.
Her wolf snarled—low, guttural, disgusted by the sight of him.
Kaelani swallowed hard, forcing the impulse down, smothering the spark before it caught flame. She pushed the unwanted thoughts out and steadied her breath, gaze fixed.
“I wish to continue my lessons,” she said evenly. “But I want your word—you will never intercept my dream-walks again.”
Draevyn raised a hand as if taking an oath.
“I will never intercept your dream-walks again…”
A pause. A glint of something in his eye.
“Unless, of course… you call for me.”
Kaelani searched his eyes for a long moment, then gave a small, deliberate nod.
It wasn’t forgiveness, and it wasn’t surrender—
but it was acceptance.
Draevyn’s expression shifted just slightly, something like approval flickering in the depths of his silver stare.
“Good,” he said smoothly, his voice returning to that calm, velvety cadence.
“Let’s eat some breakfast. Then we’ll head out to the Dark Forest.”
They didn’t linger long over the meal. By the time they stepped beyond the castle’s shadow, the air had grown colder—thicker. The path ahead wound into a world where light dared not reach.
The shadows in the Unseelie Forest shifted like they were alive—long tendrils that breathed between branches, cloaking everything in their eternal dusk. Each step muffled beneath a carpet of damp leaves and moss, the silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen movement.
Kaelani stood at the edge of the trees, no longer in the drab gray jumpsuit she’d first arrived in. She wore fitted black slacks tucked into low, laced boots that rose to mid-calf. A black button-up shirt hugged her frame—simple, clean, powerful. Her hair, rich with warm undertones, was pulled into a sleek ponytail that shimmered faintly beneath the starlight.
Draevyn was beside her, dressed more casually than usual—though nothing about him ever seemed truly relaxed. His oxblood-red satin shirt was half-buttoned down his chest, the fabric a fine weave that clung to him in all the right places. Dark trousers and heavy boots completed the look, though it was the effortless confidence in the way he moved that stood out most.
He surveyed the clearing ahead, arms folded loosely.
“Well then,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing. “We can work on channeling. Elemental control. Or—if you’re feeling brave—summoning.”
Kaelani didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed forward, calm and razor-focused.
“What you did in the dream,” she said. “With the shadows. You used them like vines.”
His brow lifted with intrigue.
“Shadow weaving,” he confirmed, tilting his head slightly. “You think you’re ready for that?”
She turned to face him fully now, eyes steadfast, lips set in a confident line.
“Let’s see.”
Draevyn stepped toward her, the air shifting with his presence.
“Very well, then.”
He motioned toward a patch of darkness beneath the sweeping boughs, where the forest shadows pooled unnaturally deep.
“Shadow weaving isn’t about force,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “It’s about resonance. Shadows aren’t dead space — they’re living echoes of light. You don’t command them. You invite them.”
Kaelani frowned slightly, her arms folding as she shifted her stance.
“Invite them how?”
“Feel them,” he said, stepping beside her. “They respond to emotion, yes—but more to presence. You must lower your guard without surrendering control. Let the shadow sense you. Let it… choose you back.”
She narrowed her eyes at the dark patch ahead. It was unnerving — not just absence of light, but something deeper. Thicker.
Kaelani raised a hand, inhaled, and reached for it.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, brows knitting in frustration.
Still nothing.
A sigh escaped her lips.
“Too much thought,” Draevyn said, tone uncritical. “Let instinct speak. Shadows aren’t impressed by effort. They’re drawn to intent.”
Kaelani closed her eyes. This time, she didn’t reach outward. She reached inward—toward that gnawing hole that had lived inside her for as long as she could remember. That place between fear and rage. Between loss and hunger.
Something stirred.
A sliver of movement flickered at the edge of the darkness—like a thread twitching in windless air.
Kaelani’s eyes snapped open.
A tendril of shadow slithered toward her palm, delicate and slow, like it was testing her. With cautious breath, she coaxed it further. The shadow curled around her wrist—not cold, but sueded, as if the night itself had wrapped its fingers around her.
Her lips parted in awe.
“I did it,” she whispered.
“You did,” Draevyn said, his tone impassive but clearly watching closely. “Now again. But this time, weave it.”
Kaelani extended her other hand, trying to pull the thread forward and shape it. She imagined it like fabric — thread meeting thread, folding into form.
The shadow obeyed — but as she shaped it, it twisted sharply, like a snake resisting a leash.
Before she could react, it coiled fast around her wrist.
“Wait—”
The tendril yanked. Darkness bloomed.
And the world blinked out.
Kaelani was inside it now — but it wasn’t just black. It was void. A vast, crushing nothing that howled without sound. She gasped, but no air came. She flailed, but her limbs felt locked, weightless, drifting in ink.
She screamed.
But the silence devoured it.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but even that began to fade. She couldn’t feel her body anymore. Couldn’t tell up from down. Couldn’t see.
It felt endless.
And then—
Snap.
The void spat her out.
Kaelani hit the forest floor with a jarring thud, her chest heaving as the moss cushioned her fall. She lay there for a second, gasping, arms trembling, eyes wide with panic as reality surged back around her in pieces.
The trees.
The sky.
The scent of damp earth.
She rolled onto her side, coughing hard.
Draevyn stood a few feet away, his expression ambiguous.
He finally stepped forward, extending his hand with that quiet confidence he wore like a tailored coat.
Kaelani hesitated only a second before reaching for it. His palm was warm, steady. He helped her to her feet with surprising ease, his grip firm but careful.
“Why did you let the shadows take control?” he asked, voice calm but edged with expectation.
She scoffed, brushing dirt from her slacks. “I didn’t.”
He arched a brow. “You clearly did. You gave them complete power over you.”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it on purpose.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his features, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
“You did,” he persisted. “The moment you told yourself it was more than just an extension of your own innate power.”
She stilled, the weight of his words sinking in.
“You are always in control, Kaelani. That is key to every lesson I will give you from here on out.”
He nodded toward the clearing, where the shadows had begun to settle again, waiting like silent sentries.
“Now,” he said quietly. “Dust yourself off… and try it again.”