Lexa
I rise on my elbows and blink up at Kaleb. My vision goes spotty for several seconds before repairing itself, but my brain feels like a leaden weight. I’m not sure I’m actually here now, in this room, bracing myself over the side of Kaleb’s bed while my stomach pitches and rolls, the taste of magic heavy on my tongue. “B-Blake? Where did you hear–hear that name?” I’m going to vomit. I don’t think I can help it. My body lurches, and I end up on my knees on the ground before Kaleb can steady me. I close my eyes, the room spinning for several seconds before wobbling back to normal.
He exhales sharply through gritted teeth, his hand warm and flat against my upper back. “Put your head between your knees and breathe.”
“I feel like I’m on a boat.”
“I’ve never been on a boat, but what you’re feeling right now is fae magic in your body. It takes a while to dispel itself.”
“I’m going to be sick–”
“Fight it,” he commands, and I adjust my position on the hard floorboards and do as he says. My neck tingles with tension when I hang my head between my knees and take several deep, aching breaths. I smell like rain and the maze–a thick, woodsy, wet smell that makes that nausea return in an instant, but I think of anything but that feeling–the feeling of fear still echoing through my body like a tide, pushing and pulling every nerve.
“Am I actually here?” I ask, my cheeks heating. I know it’s a stupid question, but I can’t help it.
“You are.”
“I saw you,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “I saw you in the maze.”
His hand curls into a fist along my spine before flattening again. “What did I say to you?” His voice nearly breaks with a pinch of panic.
“Nothing. I didn’t–I was seeing memories from your life. Your games. Alice’s death, I think. I don’t know why. I–I–”
“It’s because we’re mates, Lexa. We’re bound. The maze… whatever kind of magic lurks within, it saw that piece of me that belongs to you.”
I open my eyes to look at him, to take in his features like I’m taking a picture, weaving him into memory. We’ve said we’re not going to reject each other. That fact–that we are mates and will remain as much–is set in stone.
But the what ifs are still there, wedging a rift between us. I never thought I’d be in this position in more ways than one.
Then, my mind softens, the grip of the magic from the maze loosening, but one memory remains clear.
“Blake,” I whisper, and his expression darkens. “He’s my cousin. I saw him in the maze, and… You must have seen my memories, too. He’s, uh, he’s a… he’s something else–”
“He’s here.”
“What do you mean?” My voice sharpens in disbelief.
“Silas’s guest. Your cousin. They’re one and the same.”
I shakily rise to my feet, and he allows it but stays close, the ghost of a touch on my elbow while I tremble, every appendage tingling from lack of use. “There’s no way—” I bite back the words, grimacing as I shake my head, which pounds like someone’s taking a hammer to my temple. “You know what? There is a way for that bastard to be here. Do you know what he’s done back home? What he did before spiriting here, however long and however much power that took?” I look up at Kaleb but barely see him through my anger. “He blew up a temple. Not just any temple, but the Temple of Moonrise, the capital of Eastonia. He blew it up, left it in ashes and embers, and left behind his own mate and daughter–”
“He’s assisting the rebellion–”
“Oh, I bet he is. He always has his hands in something!” I push past him and stumble toward Kaleb’s ensuite bathroom–nothing more than wood paneling and a shower made of stone. It’s the only shower in the entire house from what I gather, and right now, it’s mine, even if the water is lukewarm at best. I fumble with the handle, droplets shimmering before spraying in a steady, slightly heated stream. I feel Kaleb’s presence before his shadow cuts through the muted light of an oil lantern on the counter, setting the water droplets alight like liquid gold.
“I have to ask,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Are you involved in whatever plan he had when he came here?”
I pause, my fingers drifting over the armor I already know I won’t be able to get off by myself. “What exactly are you asking? Are you asking if I–if I lied to you about what happened on that beach? If I lied about my regiment being slaughtered–”
“No,” he rasps, and he touches me. I flinch.
I regret it immediately.
Kaleb pulls back, his fingers hovering over my upper arm, then closes them into a fist. “Lexa, I have thousands of people to think about. Over a dozen small packs under my command. Alphas. Beta. Pack members. Parents and children. Silas is playing a dangerous game, and you’re involved, whether I like it or not.”
I keep my eyes on the water dampening the stone that encompasses one half of the room. The temperature rises, and heat blooms in wisps of steam rising from the water, now warm to the touch, while he cautiously begins to undo the straps of my armor.
“And you’re involved,” I reply under my breath, trying to bite back my feelings, “because your mate is involved, correct? Otherwise, you would have never allowed your brother to rope you into this… into this mess.”
“I would have chosen you regardless of whether or not we ended up mates.”
I close my eyes as the armor covering my shoulders and chest falls away. He sets it on the counter behind him, his touch moving to my hips, then my lower belly, where he deftly–but silently–unlatches my belt and pulls it away.
“We don’t have a future together,” I tell him, and it breaks my heart to hear the words out loud. “But you already know that, don’t you? That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? Now that Blake is here and I have a way home?”
The armor guarding my thighs loosens to the point that it simply falls off, leaving me in thin, tight fabric shorts–something Lis called underoos, which made me laugh at the time, and a tank top of a similar material. I’m practically naked and totally, utterly exposed to Kaleb.
My heart is, too.
This is the conversation I dreaded having the most… with anyone.
“We’re worlds apart,” he replies in confirmation, his voice shifting as he turns from me, facing away from me like he can’t take it, and I get it. I reach for the spray of the water and let the warm rush of it fan over my fingers. “I can’t make promises I know I can’t keep.”
“Why would the Goddess do this to us? Bind us like this?”
“I don’t have the answer.”
“Well, Blake might.” I turn, watching through the last bits of unsteamed glass in the mirror over the vanity. He braces his hands on the counter and bows his head, refusing to meet my eyes. “Do you know what he can do? He can see everything. The future. Into people’s minds. He can look past the planes of our existence into what he calls the tapestry, where all of us, every menial, insignificant soul carries a thread that creates a… masterpiece. He can see it.”
Kaleb raises his head just enough to look at me, but his expression is dark, exhausted, like whatever light was within him has officially blown out. “He can manipulate it, Kaleb. That’s why–”
“I don’t give a fuck about your cousin,” he says with effort and turns. “I care about my pack. I care about you–you surviving these Trials–”
“And then what? I survive. Sure. I can do that. You know I can win this.”
Kaleb takes a shuddering breath. I edge toward him, raising my hands in surrender. “But then what? My cousin is here, which means–which means Maeve, my other cousin, is not far behind. The two of them together are going to spell disaster for everyone involved. I win, and then what, Kaleb? There’s going to be war in Pantharas. The people of the Glade can’t stay here. They need to get out.”
“I will do what I need to do. It’s not your responsibility. It’s mine.”
“I’m your mate. You called me your Luna–”
“And you are.”
“Then why say–”
“Because you cannot stay,” he cuts in, his eyes dark and heavy with conviction. “You will not stay here. Not in the Glade, not in Pantharas. You will return home to your people.”
“And your people?”
“I will do what needs to be done to ensure their freedom.”
He’s hiding something. I can almost taste it in the air between. It’s thick and bitter–a bold lie.
“And us?”
He takes a single step toward me and then stops. He’s close enough to touch. Mist hangs heavy in the air between us, and the water continues to run, wasted, likely growing cold again. I let it.
“We agreed not to reject each other,” he says, taking another calculated step. “I think it was wise, given our circumstances as victor and trainer. It gives us an advantage.”
I find it suddenly impossible to swallow. This side of him? It’s different, closed off. Like he’s decided to build a wall between us, and honestly, I… can’t argue with his point. What in the world are we supposed to do? Fall desperately, madly in love? Talk about a home together, children, cozy nights by a fire? Because where would we do that? In what peaceful world would a situation like that exist for us?
It kills me that he’s right. That being mates makes us stronger, even if we can’t feel it at its full strength. But his mark on my neck burns with fresh heat with every inch he moves, closing the distance between us while my heart begins to race.
What I know is right–what must happen–battles against what I want.
And it’s him.
The only man who has ever beaten me in a fight. The only man who could ever go toe to toe with me and walk away with only scratches. The only man who’s been worthy, in my fucking opinion.
And I would let him go if it meant going home, wouldn’t I?
Wouldn’t I give him up?
Wouldn’t I regret it for the rest of my miserable life?
It’s just like what Austin’s ghost said in the maze. I’m alone. I’ll live alone, and I’ll die alone. I may live honorably–a fierce warrior who fought with her entire heart for her homeland.
But that’s it.
It’s all I ever used to want.
Until he touches me, his thumb grazing down the column of my throat, his fingers locked on the back of my neck. He tilts his mouth over mine but doesn’t kiss me even though I feel our bodies reacting at the same time, leaning in almost desperately for a single ounce of attention to the needs we both ignore. The desires we trained ourselves to forget.
A low curse flutters between us before he says against my cheek, “Tomorrow morning, you will return to Silas’s house, where you will stay until the Trials end. It’s safer that way.”
He pulls away and is gone in a flash, leaving me reeling and trapped with my own conflicting feelings, watching the now cold water circle the drain.
I shower, scrubbing myself raw, letting the cool water numb the scratches on my cheeks. I let my mind wander over the fact that Blake is here. Whether it’s fatigue or just the absurdity of my situation in general talking, it doesn’t come as a surprise.
I do everything I can not to think of Kaleb and the distance he just put between us. Because he’s right. It doesn’t matter what we feel. There’s so much at stake.
After I dry off, I curl up in a tight ball in his empty bed, watching the first light of day creep over the wall, and when I close my eyes, Silverhide expands around me.