CHAPTER 19 — Raevan’s Forbidden Touch

POV: Raevan

Soraya is avoiding me.

Not subtly. Not politely. Not even with that trembling uncertainty she carries when she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to exist in a room. No—she avoids me with precision. With purpose. With the determination of someone who has decided that distance is safer than desire.

And it’s driving me insane.

I watch her from the upper balcony as she crosses the courtyard with Vienne, head down, shoulders tight. Her hair is braided with gold thread, swaying softly as she moves. She doesn’t look my way once. Not even when Kaide calls my name beside me. Not even when Tazir waves at her like an idiot.

Tazir follows my gaze and sighs. “You could speak to her instead of stalking from rooftops.”

“She doesn’t want to speak to me,” I mutter.

“Because you kissed her in a supply room and then froze the world around you like a coward?”

I glare at him. “I didn’t freeze anything.”

“Oh?” Tazir raises a brow. “Then what would you call spiraling into guilt and duty for three days straight?”

I grind my teeth. “She slapped me.”

“You deserved it.”

I look again—Vienne nudges Soraya, saying something that makes her roll her eyes. Her mouth curves into a faint, reluctant smile.

My chest tightens painfully.

Tazir elbows me lightly. “Go talk to her.”

I shake my head. “She doesn’t want me near her.”

“Then convince her otherwise,” he says. “Before the entire fortress decides to place bets on how long you’ll mope.”

***

I find her that evening.

Not intentionally—my feet simply take me where my mind refuses to go. She stands in the practice hall, alone, practicing small dagger movements Vienne must have shown her. The blade glints in the lanternlight. Her brow furrows in concentration. Her stance is wrong.

She looks beautiful anyway.

I step inside. She freezes.

Her wolf senses me first—a flicker of recognition, confusion, anger, something deeper. She lowers the dagger slowly.

“Raevan,” she says quietly.

My name on her lips nearly undoes me.

“We need to talk,” I say.

“No,” she answers simply.

I blink. “No?”

She turns away. “Talking never helps. Not with you.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it?” She spins around, eyes blazing. “Every time I start to understand you, you pull back. Every time I let myself trust you, you remind me Azhara stands beside you in front of the world. And every time—every time—you touch me, you make me feel like I’m stealing something that was never mine.”

Her words cut sharply.

“You’re not stealing anything,” I say softly.

She laughs—small, bitter. “Then what am I, Raevan? A war prize? A complication? A body you reach for when no one is watching?”

I step closer. “You’re none of that.”

She backs up until she hits a pillar. “Then what am I?”

I swallow hard. The answer rises before I can stop it.

“Mine,” I whisper.

Her breath catches.

But then she shakes her head. “You can’t say things like that. You can’t want me and promise yourself to someone else. You can’t touch me like that and then walk into a hall holding Azhara’s hand.”

“I didn’t want to hold her hand.”

“But you did.”

“Because duty required it,” I snap.

“And what about me?” she asks, voice trembling. “What requires me?”

I step closer—close enough to feel her warmth. “Instinct. Desire. Everything I’ve been taught to bury.”

Her eyes soften for a heartbeat.

Then harden again. “I refuse to be second choice.”

“You are not second—”

“Then prove it,” she cuts in. “Break the betrothal. Defy the council. Choose me.”

My breath stops.

Because she deserves those answers.

And because I cannot give them.

Not without burning the empire.

Her jaw tightens. “Exactly.”

She tries to slip past me.

I catch her wrist gently. “Soraya—”

She pulls back, but not harshly. “Don’t. Please. If you touch me again, I won’t be able to walk away.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” I whisper.

She closes her eyes. “But I can’t want something that destroys me.”

The words shatter something inside me.

I release her.

She steps back, breath shaky.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us is heavy—crushed hopes, unspoken want, endless tension.

Finally, she speaks, voice barely audible.

“If you can’t choose me openly… don’t choose me at all.”

She turns and walks away.

I don’t follow.

Because I know she’s right.

And because wanting her is killing me—slowly, painfully, completely.

***

Hours later, I find myself in the empty war chamber, staring at the map of our desert realms. Azhara’s territories, Ashra borders, Saren lands. Everything I was raised to protect.

Tazir enters quietly. “She rejected you again?”

“No,” I murmur. “She rejected the parts of me she shouldn’t have to carry.”

He sighs. “Raevan… she’s hurting.”

“I know.”

“And so are you.”

I grip the table edge. “She’s not second. She’s not forbidden. She’s not—”

Tazir finishes for me. “She’s everything you’re afraid to want.”

I breathe out slowly, painfully.

“Yes.”

“And what are you going to do?” he asks.

I stare at the map. I have no answer.