Chapter 8
Elara Nightwind POV:
The path to the Elderstone was narrow, winding through a thick forest of ancient oaks. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of silver and black. Tradition dictated that this journey must be made on foot, and alone. Just the two of us.
For the first time in thirteen years, we were truly alone together, and the silence was a living thing between us.
I walked a few paces ahead, my back straight, my senses taking in the familiar scent of the night woods—damp earth, decaying leaves, the distant smell of pine. It was the scent of my own freedom.
Ryker followed behind me. I didn't need to look to know his eyes were fixed on my back. I could feel his gaze like a physical weight. I could smell the turmoil rolling off him, his normally dominant scent of thunderstorm and pine now soured with confusion and a pain so raw it was almost suffocating.
I knew what he was doing. He was remembering.
He was seeing all the moments he had dismissed. Me, kneeling in the herb garden, my hands covered in dirt. Me, curled in a chair in the library, a stack of books at my feet. Me, quietly placing a freshly made healing salve by his door after one of his brutal sparring sessions.
Countless small acts of a life lived in parallel to his, a life he had never once tried to enter.
The silence became too much for him to bear.
"About Seraphina..." he started, his voice rough and hesitant. "It wasn't... It's not what you think. I never touched her."
It was a clumsy, belated defense. He still thought she was the reason. He thought his physical fidelity was a bargaining chip.
I didn't stop walking. "I know," I said, my voice even.
His footsteps faltered behind me. "You know?"
"Yes," I replied, my eyes fixed on the path ahead. "If you had, the bond would have burned me with the betrayal. I felt nothing."
I paused, then added the words that would gut him. "But it doesn't matter, Ryker."
That, I knew, would hurt him more than any accusation. His grand gesture of loyalty, the one line he hadn't crossed, was meaningless to me.
"Why doesn't it matter?" he demanded, his voice tight with frustration and disbelief. "I was never unfaithful to our bond!"
I finally stopped. I turned to face him, standing in a pool of moonlight that made his golden eyes seem to glow with a desperate light.
"Physical betrayal is a knife, swift and sharp," I said, my voice quiet but carrying the weight of thirteen years. "Emotional abandonment is a poison, Ryker. A slow-acting one."
I held his gaze. "I've been dead inside for a very long time."
He had no answer. There was no defense against that truth. All his arguments, all his justifications, shriveled into nothing in the face of a decade of his own neglect.
I saw the fight drain out of him, replaced by a devastating understanding.
His inner wolf, the proud, aggressive beast that had ruled his life, was silent. For the first time, I could feel its true emotion through the tattered shreds of our bond: a desolate, mournful whimper. It was crying for its mate.
My own wolf remained a silent, sleeping mountain within me.
I turned my back on him and started walking again. There was nothing more to say. The past could not be unwritten.
He watched me go, and in the space between us, I could feel a new emotion emanating from him, one I had never sensed before.
Pure, undiluted despair.
He was finally understanding. He wasn't losing a wife. He was paying the price for thirteen years of his own arrogance.
Ahead, the trees thinned. A clearing opened up, and in its center stood a colossal monolith of pale, smooth stone, glowing silver under the full moon.
The Elderstone.
Our final destination.
You may also like
