Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Evelyn’s POV

The Pack had never felt so quiet.
Even the guards posted outside my chamber seemed to breathe softer, as though Kael’s absence had pressed an invisible weight upon them. Without him, the air was not oppressive with fire and fury it was heavy with the kind of silence that clings, as if the stones themselves waited for something to shatter.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my hands.
They looked ordinary. Pale skin, faint scars along the knuckles from old tumbles in the garden, nails I had bitten shorter than a lady should. But when I flexed my fingers, a faint hum stirred in the marrow of my bones. Not a sound more like a vibration, as if something inside me had always been caged and now pressed insistently against its bars. The first time it had burst free, it had been Kael’s doing. His fury, his fire, his impossible presence had sparked something dormant in me, forcing power out like a flame gasping for air. Since then, it had flickered at the edges of my awareness—unruly, unpredictable, refusing to bend to command. I needed control.
Kael might think me safe behind stone walls and iron blades, but I could feel the truth gnawing at me through the bond: danger lingered. I couldn’t keep depending on him to burn the world for me. If I couldn’t master this power, I would remain the weak point. The chain someone would always tug.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.
The chamber was dim, the curtains drawn, the fire in the hearth low and unthreatening. A table sat near the bed, its surface empty save for a silver goblet. I fixed my attention on it. My pulse quickened.
“Move,” I whispered, foolishly, as though coaxing a child.
The goblet remained still.
Heat pricked the back of my neck. Not from the hearth no, this was inside me, winding up like a spring. I stretched out my hand. My fingertips tingled. The goblet rattled once, a soft clink of metal on wood, then stilled.
Excitement shot through me. Too much. The heat flared, searing, wild. My vision blurred at the edges, and before I could pull back, the goblet shot into the air and smashed against the far wall. Wine splattered in a dark stain that looked too much like blood.
I gasped, clutching my chest. The heat receded, leaving me hollow and shaking. My heart thundered as though I had run miles. Not control. Not yet. I dragged the curtain aside for air, leaning against the cold stone sill. Outside, the courtyard bustled faintly. Guards sparred. Servants crossed with baskets of bread and jugs of water. Ordinary life continued beneath the winter sun. No one looking up at this window would know that their would-be lady sat trembling from a power she could barely keep from spilling over. My hands ached. I turned them over in the light, half-expecting to see burns. But there was nothing. No mark. Only the memory of fire in my veins.
Kael’s bond tugged at me then subtle but undeniable. A wave of iron will, blood, and heat. He was far, but not unreachable. My heart stuttered. He was thinking of me. He had felt the surge, I was certain of it. Panic rose. What if he returned too soon? What if he discovered I had been practicing? He would cage me tighter, smother me in protection until I was nothing but a doll in a tower. He would not understand that this was not rebellion. It was survival. I shut the bond down as best I could, retreating inward like a child hiding under covers. It never silenced fully, but the pressure eased enough for me to breathe again.
Then I turned back to the wreck of the goblet and squared my shoulders.
“No,” I said aloud, the word steadier than I felt. “We try again.”
I practiced until sweat slicked my skin and exhaustion made my legs shake. Small objects first the goblet’s twin, a candlestick, a discarded glove. They trembled, tipped, slid across surfaces in halting jerks. Each attempt felt like balancing on a knife’s edge: too much force, and the item flew into the wall; too little, and it remained stubbornly still. Once, I managed to lift the glove and hold it suspended for several heartbeats. It dangled in the air, impossibly delicate, as though strung up by invisible threads. My breath caught with wonder only to lose grip when excitement spiked again. The glove crumpled back to the floor. The bond pulsed more insistently with each surge. Kael’s presence pressed at me like a storm beating against shutters. He was restless, angry. Whether at his enemies or at my own recklessness, I could not tell.
By nightfall, my body trembled with fatigue. My head throbbed, my eyes burned, and my fingers felt raw though they bore no wounds. I sank onto the floor before the hearth, curling my arms around my knees. What was I doing?
This was not the sort of gift one played with in secret. Power like this was not meant for hands untrained, unworthy. What if I hurt someone? What if, the next time, it was not a goblet or glove, but a person one of the maids who slipped in to stoke the fire, or a guard passing outside the door?
But then I remembered the whispers. The spies dragged through halls, their eyes fixed on me with too much knowledge. I remembered the way Kael’s enemies had spat my name as though it were a weapon they might wield against him. If I did nothing, I was already a target. I lifted my head. The firelight flickered against the walls, shadows dancing like phantoms. I reached out my hand once more, not to the objects around me, but to the flame itself. It wavered. Bent toward me. My breath caught. The warmth slid over my skin like silk. Not burning. Not yet. It seemed to recognize me, the way a hound might recognize its master.
“Mine,” I whispered, echoing a word Kael so often breathed like a vow.
The flame flared then shot higher, wild, spilling sparks across the rug. I scrambled back with a cry, smothering the embers beneath a blanket. Smoke filled the room, bitter and stinging. My hands shook violently.
I coughed, tears pricking my eyes from the smoke, and laughed bitterly between gasps. “You’ll be the death of me,” I muttered to the fire, though I wasn’t certain if I meant the flame or the bond.
Because somewhere, far away, Kael’s presence surged against mine with sudden force, as though he had felt the spark of my near disaster. His fury crashed like thunder through my bones. I shoved the bond closed with everything I had, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temple. If he came storming back now, he would find nothing but a smoky chamber and a trembling girl insisting she was fine. I had to be fine. I had to keep this hidden until I was ready.
Only then could I stand beside him not as a fragile thing to be guarded, but as something forged in fire.
As his equal. after the smoke cleared and the fortress settled into uneasy sleep, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. My hands still buzzed faintly. My chest ached from the strain of forcing the bond quiet. And in the silence, I made a vow to myself.
Tomorrow, I would try again.