The Silent Hunter
The Silent Hunter
CHAPTER 28
The Silent Hunter
Kael had never depended on another's voice over his own instincts. Instincts forged in war, betrayal, and blood. Instincts that never lied and now informed him something was wrong—appallingly wrong—with Mira.
The words continued to echo in his mind like a never-ending puzzle. How's my twins feeling? He hadn't confronted Mira about it. No, Kael wasn't foolish enough to pose a question that might reveal more than it would impart. Sometimes silence was the sharpest blade, and for the time being, he chose silence. But it bothered him.
Was it a lover? A rival? Or something far more dangerous—someone who knew too much?
For the next several days, Kael deliberately pulled back. He moved through the halls like a specter, quiet, unreadable, and unapproachable. He let Mira think she was re-winning his affections with her fake smiles, carefully plated meals, and new show of affection. But all the while, he was watching.
And Mira noticed.
Her perceptive eyes detected every hesitation of his hand, every pause in his answer, every moment when his eyes seemed to concentrate on a sphere immeasurably remote from her. At night, when she lay beside him, he no longer pulled his arm close around her waist. Instead, he lay still, his breathing regular but his mind alert, listening, plotting, unraveling the tangles which she thought she had tied securely.
That space became poison. Mira grew restless, her paranoia churning like a storm. She knew Kael's silence was not the fruit of love or fatigue—it was the fruit of distrust. She could almost hear his mind accusing her in the dark.
And so she grew reckless.
Kael was never one to trust to coincidence. He wanted truth, and truth took effort. So he followed her.
He walked not like a suitor but a hunter, quiet and intent. Mira had thought herself crafty, journeying at odd hours, concealed beneath heavy veils as she slipped into town under false names. But Kael's shadow was longer, his senses keener.
He followed from the treeline, watching as she entered a badly lit store at the edge of the market. The air around the shop stank of scorched herbs and low sorcery, the kind that branded the soul.
The witch.
Kael's jaw tightened as he leaned against the rough bark of a tree, watching Mira disappear behind the door's uneven surface. His suspicions screamed louder. The puzzle pieces began to squirm into place, but not into any picture he liked.
When Mira emerged, her face was white, her fists clenched around something beneath her cloak. Her eyes darted back and forth, her paranoia palpable even from the shadows. Kael didn't move. He let her think she was safe, let her return home with her secrets clutched tightly to her chest.
He could have confronted her right there and then, but confrontation meant release. No, he'd let her stew in her lies a little while longer. Fear was often the best confession.
Back in their quarters, Mira tried to mask her trembling with affection. She prepared his dinner, poured his drink, even dared to laugh as if everything was fine. But her eyes gave her away. They darted too quickly when he caught them, darted nervously toward her phone when it buzzed, lingered too long on his face as if trying to read what he was thinking.
Kael was thawed. His thank yous were curt, his touch absent. He was there in body but far away in mind, a storm ready to break free.
It was on one night, when the fire was low in the hearth, that Mira tried again.
"You've been… distant," she whispered, her fingers brushing against his arm. "Is something wrong, Kael? You know you can tell me anything."
Her voice was warm, but her eyes were scared.
Kael turned to her slowly, his expression unreadable. "May I?"
The bluntness of his answer took her aback. There was no accusation in his tone, no anger, and yet the implication of it crashed into her heart. Mira smiled tightly, pushed in close, making promises of love and loyalty.
But Kael said nothing. He merely stood, excused himself, and walked out into the night air, leaving her trembling by the fire.
Later that night, when Mira finally fell into restless sleep, Kael's patience was rewarded. Her phone, carelessly slid beneath a pillow, vibrated softly. His hand moved before sense could intervene, drawing it free.
The screen glowed in the dark room. One new message.
Kael opened it.
"I can't wait to hold them soon."
His blood went cold.
The words grated against his mind. Them. Twins. Twins once more, twins. Not a kid, but two. And not a pregnancy, but a promise. Someone in the world believed they had a stake in Mira's unborn twins.
His vision blurred with rage, his fingers tightening until the phone creaked in protest. The world around him narrowed, the air thick with betrayal and unanswered questions.
Who had sent it? What claim did they have to her? And above all—what did Mira truly carry within her?
The beast in Kael stirred, talking of vengeance, of punishment, of blood. But he did not awaken her. Not yet.
Instead, he stood over her, watching her sleep, the message burning itself into his mind like a brand.
She moved slightly, a hand moving instinctively to her stomach, a soft smile brushing her lips even while she slept. Innocent, or guilty? He could no longer tell.
One thing was certain, though—Kael would find out.
And when he did, the earth itself might tremble.
The message glowed softly in the dark—"I can't wait to hold them soon.