Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Being part of a revolution is a strangely quiet thing. I’d expected arguments in shadowed halls, endless planning, maybe even sparring to keep sharp. Not this—standing in Imogen’s bathroom with a towel around her shoulders, carefully combing through her hair while streaks of pink dye stain my hands. The calmness of it unsettles me in a way that feels almost… safe.

“How are you feeling?” she asks softly, tilting her head so I can reach the roots.

“Overwhelmed,” I admit with a sigh. “I knew Xaden and Liam were keeping things from me, but I never thought it would be an entire revolution.”

“It’s a lot,” she agrees, her tone gentler than I expect. There’s no judgment, no edge—just quiet understanding. “But you’re one of us now. And as much as I hate to say it, you bring something… different.”

My brows knit. “Different how?”

She shrugs lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. You make things a little brighter, like the air isn’t so heavy when you’re around.” She freezes, eyes widening as though a realization has just struck. “Sunshine. That’s why he calls you Sunshine.”

Heat rises to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I murmur, suddenly shy under her gaze. “He says I brighten up his world.”

Imogen grins, but it’s not the teasing kind I expect—it’s soft, almost protective. “He cares about you. They all do. And… so do I, in my own way.”

For a moment we just sit there, the scent of dye and the quiet hum of trust between us making the revolution feel very far away.

“Did they talk to you about me?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. Curiosity builds in my chest, buzzing louder than it should.

Imogen tilts her head, pink-stained strands falling into her face until I tuck them back behind her ear. “No,” she admits after a pause. “Well, Xaden never did. Which—” she gives a soft laugh, the kind that feels like it carries years of knowing him, “—that’s how you know he cares. He keeps the things closest to his heart locked away, and you were one of them.”

Something tugs inside me at that, sharp and warm all at once. “And Liam?”

She smirks faintly, but her tone is gentle. “Not at first. He was careful, private. I thought it was just Liam being Liam. But after Violet’s challenge…” Her voice trails off, her eyes flicking to me like she’s measuring how much to reveal. “The way he looked at you that day—like someone had just handed him the sun and dared him to let it slip away. That’s when he couldn’t stop. After that, it was always you. He talked about your stubbornness, your kindness, the way you never let people walk alone. He tried to downplay it, but you don’t mistake that kind of devotion when you see it.”

I swallow hard, my hands still tangled in her hair. The scent of dye lingers, but all I can think about is Liam’s dimples, the way his smile never quite hides the weight in his eyes.

Imogen nudges me lightly with her shoulder. “You should’ve seen him, Sol. He’s steady most of the time, but you… you’re the one who makes him falter. In a good way.”

“Thanks, Imogen,” I say as I finish smoothing the last streak of pink through her hair.

“No, thank you.” She leans toward the mirror, checking my work and wiping off a splash of dye that landed on her cheek. “I would’ve had to do this alone, and it always looks better when someone else does it.”

I glance down at the bowl still in my hands, half full of unused dye. The thought slips out before I can second-guess it. “Do you think I’d look good with pink hair?”

She swivels, eyebrows lifting. “On you?” Her gaze softens as she studies me, like she’s already picturing it. “Your hair’s pretty light. If anything, it’ll come out brighter than mine.” Her fingers brush a lock that’s fallen across my forehead. “Have you ever done anything to it before?”

I shake my head. “The most I ever did was grow it long enough to hit my shoulders. Nothing like this.”

“I think it’ll look good,” she says without hesitation. Then she grins, tilting her head. “And worst case? You don’t like it, so you let it fade… or shave your head and start over. You’d still pull it off.”

Her easy confidence makes my chest feel both lighter and tighter. I hold out the bowl. “Will you?”

She takes it with a smile and pats the chair she just vacated. I sit, my pulse thudding louder than it should.

“You sure about this?” she asks, dye brush hovering just above my hair. “You don’t want to… I don’t know, run it by Liam first?”

My laugh comes out shaky, but I force it anyway. “This isn’t for Liam. It’s for me.”

Her answering laugh is warm, genuine, the kind that makes it impossible to back out. “Good. That’s how it should be.” She dips the brush and presses the first streak of pink into my hair.

For a second, panic grips me. My chest goes tight, thoughts rushing—what if it looks terrible, what if I regret it, what if Liam doesn’t like it? He says he loves me, all of me, but… what if this is too much? What if he sees me and doesn’t recognize me anymore?

“Too late now,” Imogen sings as she works another section. “This is going to look so good. Your hair’s soaking the dye right up.”

I drag in a breath, grounding myself. It’s just hair. It’s mine. If Liam doesn’t like it, then… then he doesn’t have to. He’ll love me anyway. My jaw sets, a faint smile tugging despite the panic. And if he doesn’t, well—he can suck someone else’s dick.

The thought makes me snort softly, surprising even myself. Maybe for once, this really isn’t about him.

I fiddle with my hands as Imogen brushes the dye into my hair, the silence stretching between us. Eventually, curiosity wins. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she says, distracted but open enough.

“Sooo…” I draw the word out, hesitating before blurting, “you and Red.”

Her hand stills mid-stroke. Our eyes meet in the mirror, hers sharp, mine sheepish. “What about Red?”

I shrug, trying to play it casual. “What’s that about?”

Her brow arches. “How did you find out? Did he tell you?”

“No.” I shake my head quickly. “I’m just… pretty perceptive. Comes with the anxiety—I overthink, overread everything.” I let out a weak laugh that falls flat. “I just—I don’t know how you guys do it.”

“Do what?” she asks, her tone shifting, more cautious now.

“Sleep with people you don’t care about,” I say, quieter than before.

Her face twists like I’ve slapped her. “I care about Red.”

“Right, okay. But what about Garrick?” I turn slightly in the chair, too curious for my own good, too careless to stop.

Her hand clamps on my chin, turning my head back toward the mirror with more force than necessary. “Look, you’re no one to judge.”

“Point taken,” I mutter quickly, guilt already burning in my throat.

She exhales sharply, tension still stiff in her shoulders. “I care about Red,” she says again, firmer this time, each word deliberate. “But I really like Garrick. And this better not get around.”

“It won’t,” I say, but my voice feels small against the wall she’s just built between us.

“Good.” She sets the brush down a little too hard, the clatter echoing louder than it should. “All done. I’m going to wash my hair. Out now.”

“Got it,” I say, scrambling for my jacket. The room feels colder than when I came in. “Going.”

I close the door behind me and lean against the hallway wall, the sting of her dismissal settling deep. I’d wanted to know her better, but instead I’d pried too far, too fast. And now all I can think is that I’ve ruined something fragile before it even had the chance to grow.

The walk back to Liam’s room is quiet. Too quiet. He’s off with Bodhi and Garrick, checking in on Deigh and Andarna, and without him the halls feel emptier than they should. It’s a long walk from here, and Liam had wanted me to stay behind—insisted, really.

Deigh is recovering, stronger each day, nearly back to his old self. That alone eases something tight in my chest. It’s more than I dared to hope for not long ago.

But my mind keeps circling back to yesterday’s briefing, to everything I learned that still feels too big to hold all at once. How Xaden’s father had secured an alliance with Poromiel long before the rebellion ever began. How Xaden himself had once been betrothed as part of it. All those trips they used to take when we were younger—Poromiel, Aretia—they weren’t escapes or distractions. They were laying the foundation for something vast, something I was too blind to see.

And after bonding Sgaeyl? He never slowed down. Not for a heartbeat. Smuggling weapons, rebuilding Aretia stone by stone, weaving a revolution together in the shadows… while I was falling apart over a broken heart.

The realization cuts deep. My friends—these people I train with, bleed with, laugh with—they’ve been moving mountains all this time. And I was so wrapped up in my grief, my anger, my own small world, that I never even noticed.

I don’t want to think about it anymore. Not right now. So I run the bath and lean over, dunking just my hair into the water, careful not to splatter dye across the pristine white stonework. Pink bleeds out around me, then fades as the water runs clearer with every rinse. By the time it’s clean, my scalp tingles and my chest is tight with nerves I can’t name.

I towel it dry, fingers combing through strands that feel heavier than before. My fringe nearly covers my eyes, the back weighted down awkwardly. It doesn’t look bad, just… unfamiliar. Mine, but not mine.

With a steadying breath, I draw a dagger and snip away at the length—shortening the fringe, carving in some layers until it sits closer to how I like it. Longer than I used to keep it, but still me. A different me.

I study the mirror, my reflection staring back with pink hair catching the light. “I like it,” I say aloud, almost testing the words. And to my surprise, I mean it. It’s different, and maybe a little reckless, but not bad. Maybe even good. Still, it will probably be the last time I do something like this. Once is enough to prove I could.

The growl from my stomach reminds me it’s nearly dinner. I slip out of the bathroom and make my way toward the dining hall. The sound of voices drifts through the door—everyone’s already back. My pulse jumps, panic rising fast as I picture Liam’s face. I brace myself for his reaction, for the possibility of disappointment.

I just hope he doesn’t hate it.

“All I’m saying is that it is insane—” Garrick’s voice cuts off the moment I walk into the room. His eyes lock on me, widening. “Holy fuck.”

Instinctively, my hands fly up to my hair. Heat floods my face. Bodhi’s mouth drops open.

“It looks so good,” Imogen declares, smug as ever. “I knew it.”

“What—” Liam starts, turning toward me. The second his eyes land on me, he freezes.

My stomach lurches. “Is it bad? Do you not like it?” The words spill out too fast, tangling over each other. “I can cut it. I’ll fix it—”

“Don’t.” His voice is firm, steady enough to cut through my panic. “Sunshine, it looks really good.”

Before I can argue, he’s already up, crossing the space to pull me into his arms. The world narrows to the warmth of his arms, the quiet certainty in his touch.

“You sure?” I whisper, terrified of the answer.

He nods without hesitation. “You look amazing,” he murmurs, running his hand through the pink strands like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His mouth quirks into a grin. “How do you keep getting hotter and hotter? It’s unfair. Needs to stop at some point.”

The tension in me unravels all at once, leaving only a shaky laugh and a rush of relief. “Thank you.”

He kisses me quick, enough to make the others groan.

“Okay, okay, keep your clothes on,” Garrick snickers.

“You’re just jealous,” Liam says as he pulls my chair out for me.

“Jealous?” Garrick snorts. “Why limit yourself to one when you can have many?”

I reach for the plate in front of me, but Liam snatches it first.

“Not too long ago you used to agree with that sentiment,” Garrick adds with a sly grin.

Liam doesn’t even look up as he starts piling food onto my plate. “That’s what people say when they’ve never experienced real love. Or when they’re in love and trying to hide it. I was the latter. Now the question is—which one are you?”

I flick a hopeful glance toward Imogen but she just flips me off without missing a beat.

“You’re gross,” Garrick mutters, though I catch the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

“I like your hair,” Bodhi says suddenly, breaking the tension. “You gonna keep it?”

I shake my head. “No, I don't think so. It’s a bit too pink.”

“Lame,” Imogen declares, middle finger still aimed at me. I just smirk at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

“Well,” Liam murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss into my hair, “I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Gross,” Garrick repeats, louder this time, earning a round of laughter from the table.

That night, the second the door clicks shut behind us, I’m pinned. Liam presses me back against the wall—not rough, but with a fierce urgency, like something snapped the moment we were alone. His hands cradle my jaw as his mouth crashes into mine, devouring every breath before I can even offer it.

My fingers find his shoulders on instinct, gripping tight. Gods, he’s warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that still manages to leave me breathless.

He kisses like he’s starving. Like I’m his.

A soft groan escapes him as his hand slides into my hair and tugs—not hard, just enough to tilt my head and bare the line of my throat.

“Gods,” he mutters against my skin, his voice hoarse with want. “Warn a guy next time.”

“So you like it?” I breathe, already trembling under the graze of his teeth just below my ear.

“Do I like it?” He pulls back only far enough for me to see the wild hunger in his eyes. “Of course I do. So much so, I need to confirm if the drapes match the curtains.”

I burst out laughing—genuine, bright, too loud in the quiet room. But it dies in my throat the second his hand tightens in my hair again, tugging just enough to drag a moan out of me.

“Laughing at me?” he murmurs, lips brushing mine, teasing but dangerous.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I whisper, dazed and shaking.

“Good.” His mouth curves into a grin as he sinks to his knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Because if you did, I’d have to punish you.”

I inhale sharply as his hands trace up my thighs, sliding to the waistband of my pants. There’s reverence in his touch, yes—but also possession. Like this body is his, and he’s reminding me who I gave it to.

A chill runs up my spine. I bite back a moan as he works the buttons open with infuriating slowness, glancing up through his lashes like he knows exactly how undone he’s making me.

Then he smirks and presses a kiss just above my hip—so soft it hurts.

“I’m not joking when I say you look incredible,” he murmurs, voice low against my skin, a confession and a command all at once.

His hands slide beneath the waistband, fingertips brushing my cock, sparking fire in their wake. Instinct drives my hand to his hair, threading through the soft strands as if anchoring myself to him.

“Liam—”

He looks up, eyes blazing. “Yeah?”

My throat goes dry. I can’t tell if it’s his gaze, heavy and consuming, or the way my heart pounds so hard it shakes through my fingertips. I swallow.

“Nothing. Just… I really like you on your knees.”

His grin is wolfish, dangerous. “Then you’re in luck.”

And then his mouth replaces his hands, and thought shatters into fragments. My back presses against the wall as my eyes slip shut, his name breaking from my lips on every ragged breath.

This—him—feels like gravity. And I don’t want to escape it.

There’s no time for thought, no room for fear—only the heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble, the way he worships every inch of me with devastating precision. My head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces fire up me. My knees buckle.

“Liam—” I gasp, fingers clenching in his hair.

He hums against me—smug bastard—and the vibration makes me shudder. But then it’s gone, cut short as he pulls back just far enough for his gaze to pin me in place.

“Turn around,” he commands, voice rough. “I want to taste what’s mine.”

My knees almost give. A gasp ripping from me.

“First time?” he smirks, already knowing the answer. I nod, helpless.

“Good,” he growls. “Turn around.”

He helps me out of my pants, steady hands guiding me even as mine tremble. I brace against the wall, palms flat, but my legs wobble like they’ll collapse at any second.

“Gods, look at you,” Liam mutters, dragging his palms over me, kneading, squeezing. “Such a perfect ass. Mine.” He presses a kiss to one cheek, then the other, before spreading me open and groaning low in his throat. “All mine.”

The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out, raw and startled. His tongue is hot silk—wet, demanding, merciless. My forehead thuds softly against the wall as my body shakes with the shock of it.

“Liam—” I moan, but his tongue pushes deeper, devouring me like he can’t get enough. Every movement drags new, desperate sounds out of me—sounds I didn’t know I could make.

He keeps me there, held wide, completely vulnerable, like this is where I belong. And gods help me, a part of me agrees.

The world narrows to him—his mouth, his grip, his breath branding me. My hips twitch, but his hands clamp harder, pinning me in place.

“Stay still,” he growls against me, the vibration wrecking me. “Take it, Sunshine. Take all of it.”

“I’m—Liam—” I choke out, desperate, warning.

He doesn’t let up. If anything, he gets hungrier, groaning into me like the sound of my voice is fuel, like my unraveling is the only thing he’ll ever need.

The coil inside me snaps violently, pleasure ripping through me like lightning. My entire body seizes, legs buckling, but his hands keep me exactly where he wants me. Overwhelming. Unbearable. Perfect.

He stays with me, slower now, dragging me down from the edge while I shake in his hold. His hands slide up my sides, gripping firm, grounding but never gentle enough to let me forget whose I am.

I hear myself chanting his name like a plea, and he answers with touch, with possession, with certainty.

When I finally manage to look back, he’s on his feet again—wrecked, smug, and burning with pride, like he’s just staked a claim no one will ever challenge.

“Fuck,” I breathe, legs still trembling.

He grins and kisses me like he didn’t just ruin me on his knees. “Told you I liked the hair.”

I laugh, still breathless. “Guess I should dye it more often.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, hauling me closer. “I’ll never get anything done again.”

I nuzzle into his shoulder, still flushed, still riding the high. “That’s a you problem.”

His breathing’s uneven, forehead pressed to mine, but there’s a dimpled smile tugging at his lips. My fingers trail down his shirt before I murmur, “Need a hand?”

He exhales a groan. “Wouldn’t mind.”

I smirk, sliding my hand past his waistband. He’s already strung so tight it takes only a few strokes before he gasps, clutching at me, and comes apart with a low, wrecked sound against my throat.

It’s quick. Very quick.

I raise my brows as he slumps against me, boneless.

“Don’t,” he mutters, already hearing the smugness in my silence.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Fastest I’ve ever seen you fall apart,” I hum.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. He tugs my hair just enough to sting. “This is your fault.”

“Oh?”

“The hair. You walk in looking like that—pink and gorgeous—what was I supposed to do? Be civilized?”

“Maybe build some stamina,” I shoot back.

He huffs a laugh, eyes glinting. For a second I think he might actually tackle me again, but instead he kisses me—rough and lingering, like he’s making a point.

When he pulls back, he mutters, “Still really like your hair.”

I grin. “Yeah, I got that.”

We don’t make it far—just enough to stumble toward the bed, still tangled, still clumsy with leftover want. Liam yanks the blanket over us in a careless sweep, then pulls me flush against his chest like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip.

I don’t even think of protesting.

His skin is warm beneath my cheek, his heartbeat still uneven, chest rising and falling as if he hasn’t quite caught up. His fingers find their way into my hair again—gentler now, combing through the strands like he’s trying to memorize them.

“You’re really stuck on the hair, huh?” I murmur, my voice rough, still carrying the edges of earlier.

“You’re stuck in my head,” he fires back instantly. “The hair just made it worse.”

I huff out a laugh, quiet and unsteady, and press myself closer.

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s soft. Peaceful.

His thumb drags slowly across the back of my neck, steady as a heartbeat, and I feel myself unravel for the last time tonight. No guards. No edge. Just breath, and heat, and the quiet hum of being safe.

Morning comes slow. Or maybe we just refuse to meet it.

The sun is already high by the time I crack my eyes open. Liam’s arm is slung heavy across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. I stretch with a groan, then sink right back into the heat of the sheets, into the steady rhythm of his chest at my back.

We don’t talk much. We don’t need to. Just lazy kisses, soft smiles, the idle brush of skin against skin. It’s easy here. Untangled. Safe.

By the time we finally drag ourselves out of bed, the Riorson House has long since woken—and eaten, judging by the silence. The dining room is empty when we arrive, sunlight spilling gold across the stone floor.

I pile food onto my plate like I haven’t eaten in days. Beside me, Liam only watches, that amused little grin tugging at his mouth—until Garrick strides into the room, slightly out of breath, and the moment fractures.

“There you two are,” Garrick says as he strides in. “Took you long enough.”

Liam doesn’t even flinch. “Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning,” I mumble around a mouthful of food. Liam laughs, shaking his head like I’m some kind of lost cause. The sound makes me warm for half a second—until Garrick keeps talking.

“Still not used to all the pink,” Garrick teases, dragging a chair around so he can straddle it, arms slung across the back. “Violet’s awake.”

Liam freezes. Just for a heartbeat. Then his whole face lights up, relief hitting him like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Really?” he blurts, grinning like the world’s been set right again.

And just like that, my chest tightens. His joy is so unguarded, so immediate, that it stings in places I don’t want to name. My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. I force a smile at Garrick, but it feels tight, brittle. The warmth in Liam’s voice shouldn’t sting—but it does. I shouldn’t feel this way. I know what Violet means to him, to all of them. But still—he never looks at me like that.

“How is she?” Liam asks, eager, leaning forward.

“Good,” Garrick says, though his gaze flicks to me, one brow arching like he sees more than I want him to. I stretch my smile wider, pretending it doesn’t cut.

“Xaden was with her when she woke up,” Garrick goes on. “Think she’s freshening up now. Pretty sure she’ll want to talk to her brother at some point, so maybe go see her after the meeting later.”

“Can’t wait.” Liam turns to me, grinning ear to ear, eyes still lit up. “Violet’s awake!”

“Yeah.” I nod quickly, stuffing more food into my mouth than I need. If I’m chewing, I don’t have to speak. If I’m full, maybe I won’t feel the hollow ache twisting deeper with every word out of his mouth.

He’s happy. That should be enough for me. It should.

“Well, I’m going to check on the box,” Garrick says, standing. “You catching up later?”

Liam shakes his head. Garrick just nods. “Later.”

And just like that, we’re alone again—but the echo of Liam’s grin for Violet lingers, sharp as glass.

Liam leans back in his chair, stretching like the weight’s finally off his shoulders. “It’s good news,” he says, voice softer than usual. “I’m glad she’s okay.”

I chew a little too aggressively, jaw tight. Liam notices—of course he notices—and gives me that look.

“You’re not saying much.”

I shrug and cram more onto my fork. Eggs. Fruit. Bread. All at once. If I keep my mouth busy, I don’t have to answer.

“Are you…” He hesitates, then angles toward me, his tone dipping into that knowing place that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “Are you jealous?”

I shake my head fast, cheeks stuffed, reaching for my glass of water like it’s a shield. I drink too much, too long, anything to stall.

Liam raises a brow. “You sure?”

I keep drinking.

He leans closer, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You do this thing with your mouth when you lie.”

I glare at him over the rim, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Can’t even respond—my mouth’s still full, and now I’m committed.

He laughs, low and knowing. “That’s not a no.”

I finally swallow—loud, awkward. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m a normal amount of annoyed,” I shoot back. “Like a reasonable, well-adjusted person who just watched you almost fall out of your chair with relief.”

His smirk fades into something softer. “Sol—”

“I know,” I cut in quickly, before he can go there. “She’s your friend. She matters to you.”

“You matter more.”

The words are simple. But they land like stone in water, rippling out, heavier than he probably realizes.

I don’t let myself sit in it. I just nod, pick up my fork again, and stab another piece of fruit.

Liam watches me for a long moment. Then he leans in. “You know I love you, right?”

I glance at him, wary. “I’m not fishing.”

“I know.” His voice dips lower, serious in that soft, dangerous way he gets when every word is a vow. “But I need you to hear it anyway.”

I try to look away. He doesn’t let me.

“I love you,” he says again, firmer now, like it’s a promise carved in stone. “More than anything. More than anyone. I’d burn down the whole continent if someone tried to take you from me. I’d betray every command, break every rule, fight every god if I had to.”

“Liam—”

“No, listen.” His eyes are blazing now, his mouth tugging at the edge of a smile. “You’re the smartest, most frustrating, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. And I love every version of you. Even when you cut your hair. Even when you dye it pink and drive me crazy. Even when you eat half the table and glare at me for caring about my friend.”

I blink at him. He’s not done.

“I love you when you’re brave. I love you when you’re scared. I love you when you’re too proud to admit you’re jealous, and when you lie with food in your mouth.”

“Gods,” I mutter, heat crawling up my neck. “Shut up.”

“I love you when you’re blushing like that—”

So I kiss him. Hard.

He growls against my mouth, hand sliding around the back of my neck to drag me closer, to deepen it instantly. It’s heat and hunger and mine, and I don’t care if we’re in public or if the whole castle walks in.

We meet Bodhi and Imogen outside the assembly room. I’m still learning the layout of Riorson House, but the halls are starting to feel less like a maze and more like a place I can navigate without thinking.

I glance through the doorway and see the same faces I was introduced to yesterday. Today they’ll decide if we’re allowed to go back home. If I get to see my father again.

The thought twists in my chest, sharp and heavy. I try to look anywhere else, to focus on the carved stone archways, the shifting light spilling across the floor—anything but the image of my father believing I’ve been dead these last few days.

“Where’s Violet?” I ask, noticing Brennan and Xaden take their seats.

“Went for a walk,” Bodhi answers, and I give him a silent nod.

The assembly is gathering to decide our fate and I am terrified. A sigh slips past my lips as I watch Xaden take command of the room, his voice steady, his presence impossible to ignore.

Liam’s fingers brush mine, and instinctively, I grip his hand like it’s the only thing keeping me steady.

“Regardless of what they decide,” Liam’s voice threads through the bond, warm and certain, “we’ll tell your dad you’re alive.”

It’s a small reassurance, but guilt gnaws at me anyway. While I’ve been wrapped up in stolen hours with him—breathing easier, feeling lighter—we haven’t been heard from in nearly five days. And with suspicion that the attack was a trap orchestrated by Aetos Sr., with his son’s help, it’s almost certain that the moment we disappeared, word spread. That we were dead.

The thought makes my stomach twist. I can’t stop picturing my father hearing the news—grieving me, burying me in his mind—while I’ve been here, letting myself laugh, letting myself want. The guilt of that weighs heavy, but so does the fear. Fear that when he finally learns the truth, it won’t erase the pain I’ve already put him through.

The first suggestion is that we stay here and help fight. Most of the assembly seems to like that idea. The second is worse—Imogen wiping Violet’s and my memory. Liam’s grip on my hand tightens, but Xaden shoots it down immediately, sharp and final.

Then someone suggests only sending Violet and me back. Brennan’s voice cuts across the room, edged with irritation. “That’s not going to work. Next suggestion.”

Footsteps drag my attention from the debate as Violet slips in. I lift a hand in a small wave, and she slides into the space between Bodhi and Imogen. They lean in to whisper, but I keep my eyes on the meeting.

“Someone has to state the obvious,” Major Ferris says.

“And what obvious thing would that be, Major?” Xaden asks, utterly unfazed.

“Returning is the only option,” Ferris continues. Relief leaks out of me in a sigh before he goes on. “Not doing so risks everything we’re building here. Search patrols will come, and we don’t have enough riders—”

“It’s a little hard to recruit when you’re trying to stay invisible,” Trissa mutters.

“Let’s not get off topic, Trissa,” Brennan snaps—though of course, they get off topic anyway.

I tip my head back against the wall with a dull thud, earning a quick glare from Liam. His hand immediately slides behind my head to shield me from doing it again as the conversation spirals into luminary negotiations with Viscount Tecarus of Poromiel. Talks that, apparently, haven’t gone anywhere since Xaden refused to marry Catriona. And that was before Violet. Now, with her in the picture, the argument is leaning toward building their own luminary.

My guilt sharpens with every tangent, every wasted minute. We’ve been gone almost five days. My father could be grieving me this very moment while I sit here listening to debates about luminaries and alliances. Each distraction piles on, and I can feel the weight of it pressing harder against my chest.

“And we’re so wildly off-topic I’m not sure this is even the same meeting anymore,” Brennan mutters.

“Please,” I mumble under my breath. But the talking continues.

I start to bang my head again, but Liam stops me, smiling faintly as his hand shifts to my hair. He strokes once. Twice. Again. It calms me instantly, though I wish it didn’t.

“Then we agree,” Major Ferris says. “Until we can supply the drifts, the cadets have to return.”

“Thank you.” My hands press together in a mock prayer before I can stop myself.

“They’re talking about us,” Violet whispers. Bodhi and I both nod.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Suri,” Brennan observes, eyes flicking toward her.

“I say we send all but two,” Suri offers smoothly.

My grip on Liam’s hand tightens.

“Eight cadets can lie as well as ten.”

“Which two would she keep?” I ask across the bond, my chest already tight.

“Not us, Sunshine. Relax.” Liam’s thumb draws lazy circles against my palm, trying to calm me.

“None of the ten are expendable, Suri,” Felix interjects.

“And what do you propose, Felix?” she counters. “Running our own college in our spare time? Most of them haven’t even finished their education. They’re no use to us yet.”

“As if any of you have a say in whether they return,” Xaden interrupts, voice like iron. “We’ll take the advice of the assembly, but it will be taken as only that— advice.”

The tension I’d been carrying collapses in a sharp exhale. “Did you know?” I whisper.

“Nope,” Liam says, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Annoyance pricks at me, hot and sharp. All this—every word, every argument—wasn’t even binding. Just advice. Meanwhile, my father might be mourning me, believing me gone, and I’ve been sitting here listening to them debate like it’s sport. The guilt digs in deeper, but it mixes with something else now. Frustration. A quiet, biting anger that none of this feels like it matters.

“What—we cannot afford to risk your life—” Suri begins.

“My life is equal to any of theirs.” Xaden gestures toward us, and I have to fight the urge to slap my palm against my forehead. Every assembly member turns toward the doorway. Out of the five of us standing here, their focus locks on Violet. Always Violet.

“Not every life,” Suri snaps, venom lacing her tone. “How could you have stood there and let her overhear the assembly’s conversation?”

“If you didn’t want her to hear, you should’ve closed the door,” Bodhi fires back, stepping fully inside.

“Really,” I mutter from the hallway, arms crossed tight. “They barely tolerate me as it is. Is this the fight we want to pick?”

“She cannot be trusted!” Suri growls.

“Xaden has already taken responsibility for her,” Imogen cuts in, moving closer to Violet, shielding her with her presence.

And then it happens. Liam’s hand slips from mine. I feel the loss immediately, like a door slamming shut. He steps into the room, closer to Violet, and lays his hand on her shoulder.

“She saved my life,” he says firmly. “Without her, I would have been dead a long time ago. We all would have been dead. She’s the reason the ten of us made it this far at all. She can be trusted. We trust her. I trust her. She’s my friend.”

She smiles softly up at him. “Thank you, Liam. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my shadow. ” 

“It’s been my honor.” he says with a soft smile back. 

The words rake across me like claws. A cold chill spreads through my chest. Before I can stop myself, my hand curls into a fist against the doorframe, the wood creaking under the pressure.

I force myself to look away, biting my lip hard enough to sting, but the action’s already given me away. When I glance back, Liam’s gaze flickers to me—brief, questioning.

I drop my hand quickly, shoving it into my pocket like nothing happened.

Let it go. Let it go. It’s not worth the fight. Not worth the fight.

But the jealousy burns anyway, sharp and unrelenting.

“That should be more than enough. She saved us, and Xaden took responsibility, as brutal a custom as it may be,” Imogen says firmly.

“I still don’t understand that particular decision,” Major Ferris mutters.

By then, I’m already drowning out the conversation. I’m jealous, and I’m pissed, and I’m not hiding it well. As they argue over whether Sorrengail can be trusted, my gaze stays locked on Liam. On the way he looks at her. Comforting her. Supporting her. Like I’m not even here. Like I’m invisible.

I don’t know how long I stand there, burning holes into him, until assembly members shuffling in front of me finally break the line of sight.

Xaden passes by, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on my shoulder. “Nice hair,” he says evenly before moving toward Sorrengail. “We’ll head out to the valley. Meet us when you’re done.”

“I’ll go with you now,” she offers. The sound of it nearly drags a growl out of me.

“Stay and talk to your brother. Who knows when you’ll get another chance,” Xaden replies. “Go. We won’t leave without you, and we’re not letting the assembly dictate what we do. The ten of us will decide together.”

He gives her one final look before striding away. We fall into step after him.

Liam slips back to my side, his fingers brushing mine—gentle, familiar. Like nothing just happened. He reaches fully for my hand.

I pull away.

He hesitates. Doesn’t say a word. But the shift in him is sharp, immediate.

I slam my shields up before he can press, cutting the bond cold.

A heartbeat later, I feel it anyway—a soft nudge against the wall I’ve built. Liam. Not pushing, not demanding. Just there. Asking to be let in.

I keep them up.

When I finally risk a glance at him, his face isn’t hurt. It’s annoyed.

And somehow, that makes me want to scream.

“That went better than I thought it would,” Bodhi says as we step out of Riorson House.

“So if the plan was never to listen to them, why even ask in the first place?” I snap, sharper than I mean to. Liam clicks his teeth at me, and I refuse to meet his gaze.

“Maybe they could’ve offered something useful,” Xaden says. “It was Brennan’s idea.”

“He seems to have a lot of those,” I mutter, the words edged with more bite than I can swallow back.

“Grrr, it’s cold out here.” Bodhi fakes a shiver, rubbing his arms like it’s a joke.

“He doesn’t like me either,” I grit out, ignoring him. “So why am I always the one who has to be the bigger person when he’s the older one?”

“You don’t have to be the bigger person,” Xaden says, turning to look at me. “Just respect his authority.”

“I do,” I shoot back. “But when is he going to respect me? Like I’m not just Liam’s human heater? Imogen and I went to ask about the damn box, and instead of answering me—the one who asked—he looked right past me. Ignored me completely.”

“Honestly,” Garrick says, voice low, “he is a little extra brutal with you, Sol. I think he’s jealous.”

Liam coughs beside me. I still don’t look at him. I don’t want to look at him.

“Jealous of what?” I demand.

Liam almost trips at my side. My hand shoots out on instinct to steady him, but the second he’s upright, I let go like I’ve been burned.

“Oh, if only one knew…” Garrick snickers.

“Garrick,” I say as I walk closer to him. “You are so helpful. Can you be a doll and grab me some apples from that tree?”

“Why me?” he asks as he looks at the tree just a few feet away with green apples. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to ask that for?”

“Because I’m asking you,” I say as I grab him by the arm and lead him away from the group towards the tree. He knows something. He wouldn’t say it in front of the others, but I’ll drag it out of him now. “Don’t wait for us,” I shout.

Liam takes a step forward. “Sol—”

“I’ll be fine with Garrick,” I say as I turn away fully and walk towards the tree. I feel Liam’s gaze on me as I walk away and the faint nudge against my shields.

“What do you mean Brennan is jealous of me?” I demand the second the group is out of earshot. “And don’t give me that bullshit about not knowing.”

Garrick grins like I just handed him his favorite weapon. “Do you really want the apple, or is this just an excuse to drag me off for gossip?”

“Yes. Both. Shut up.”

He chuckles and hauls himself up the tree with ridiculous ease. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He plucks a green apple, tosses it down. “I’ve known Brennan, what—six years now? And not once have I seen him with anyone. Meanwhile you and Liam stroll in all starry-eyed, handsy as hell—” another apple drops into my hand—“of course he’s jealous.”

“So?”

Another apple falls. “You’ve heard the rumors.”

“That Naolin and him had a thing?” I mutter, scowling up at him.

“Exactly.” Garrick shrugs, snagging another apple and tossing it down. “We’re not bothered by you and Liam being glued together—” another thud in the grass—“but Brennan? Different story. We can fuck, we can date, we can screw it all up and try again. Brennan hasn’t. Didn’t then. Doesn’t now. Who wouldn’t be jealous?”

By the time he drops from the branch, my arms are loaded, I’ve got a pile of apples and a pit in my stomach. He sticks out his hand like I owe him something.

I shove one into his palm. “Thanks for the fruit. Real nourishing conversation, Garrick.”

“So what’s going on with you and Liam?” Garrick asks, wiping the apple on his shirt before biting into it.

“Nothing,” I say too quickly. I stare down at the apple in my hand, turning it over like the green skin has all the answers.

Garrick snorts. “Yeah, sure. That’s the face of a man with absolutely no problems. Try again.”

“I said it’s nothing.” My voice comes sharper than I mean, and I shove the apple into my pocket like that’ll shut him up. But Garrick just waits, chewing slow, giving me that patient look that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

Finally, I let out a long, rough breath. “Fine. You missed it. During the meeting, the assembly was debating whether or not Sorrengail could be trusted. Liam stood up for her.”

One eyebrow lifts.

“He was holding my hand, Garrick. My hand. And then he just—let go. So he could go comfort her.” The words spill faster, sharper. “I know it’s dumb. I know I shouldn’t be jealous. But what the fuck? One second he’s telling me he loves me, the next she’s his whole world.” My throat tightens, but I force the words out anyway. “And I hate it. I hate feeling like this.”

“That’s rough,” Garrick says, gentler this time, setting a hand on my shoulder. “Doesn’t matter if you should or shouldn’t feel it. You do. Does Liam know?”

I shake my head, jaw clenched.

“See, that’s the problem. Liam can’t read your mind, Sol. You need your space, you need to process—fine. But don’t shut him out. He loves you. And Liam is Liam—he’d throw himself in front of a blade for anyone. But for you?” His gaze softens. “For you he wants to live.”

The ache in my chest twists harder, his words digging into places I don’t want touched. I swallow, nod once, then mutter, “Fuck, you’re actually helpful.”

Garrick smirks, tossing his apple core into the grass. “Careful. Keep saying things like that, and people might start thinking I’m wise.” He holds out his hand for another apple.

I shove one at him with a roll of my eyes. He just grins, and we head back to the group together.

“Now about my fee.” Garrick grins, tossing his apple core into the grass before sticking his hand out again. “Blackmail material.”

I shove at him with a roll of my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Better impossible than boring. Come on, sunshine, pay up.”

I sigh, rake a hand through my hair, and finally say, “Fine. Back when we first started sparring again, Liam tried to impress me. He tried this dramatic spinning kick he swore he’d perfected. He missed. Completely. Fell flat on his ass and couldn’t get up for a while. I thought he was injured—but no, just his ego.”

Garrick freezes, apple halfway to his mouth, before he bursts out laughing. “Oh, that’s gold. Absolute gold.”

“Garrick…” I warn.

He waves me off, grinning wickedly. “Let’s see. Sir Spin-and-Fall. No—too wordy. Captain Trip? Eh, too basic. Twinkle Toes.” He cackles. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare. Twinkle Toes Mairi.” Garrick throws his arms out like he’s already practicing announcing it in front of the whole squad.

I bite back a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insufferable.”

Garrick still won’t stop laughing, even as we approach the group. The sound is loud, reckless, like he knows it’s the worst possible time.

“What’s so funny?” Liam asks, his annoyance bleeding through every clipped word—jaw tight, voice low, dangerous.

“Nothing, Twinkle Toes,” Garrick smirks.

Liam turns to me like I’ve stabbed him. Like the one person who should’ve had his back just handed the knife over.

I try for lightness, desperate to bridge the gap. “Apple?” I offer him one, my voice too soft, too hopeful.

Liam steps forward—fast—his hand already reaching for my wrist like he’s going to drag me aside. But Garrick slides between us before he can.

“Take a walk,” Garrick says, voice calm but iron-strong.

Liam doesn’t stop. His eyes are locked on me, fire burning under his skin. “Stay the fuck out of it,” he growls, low and sharp, never looking away from me.

“Take a fuckin’ walk,” Garrick repeats, planting himself like a wall. “You’re angry, and I’m not letting you throw that at him. You know damn well who you’re really mad at.”

Liam’s jaw clenches, shoulders coiled tight. For a second I’m sure he’s going to shove Garrick aside. His hand drops, curling into a fist. His mouth opens—then snaps shut again, teeth grinding.

He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he turns on his heel and stalks off toward the edge of the field, every step heavy, each one dragging with the weight of everything he almost said.

I let out a long breath and slip one apple into my pouch, the pit in my stomach heavier than the fruit.

“Can I have an apple?” Bodhi asks, his voice cutting through the silence like he’s trying to rescue us all.

“Yeah,” I mutter, handing one over. “Anybody else want the other?”

Imogen reaches out, takes it without hesitation. Her eyes linger on me.

“What about you?” she asks.

“I’ll share with Liam.” The words leave me softer than I mean them to, my gaze already chasing after him—his back turned, his figure getting smaller as he cuts across the field. Guilt curls sharp in my chest.

“Did he say anything?” I ask, almost to myself.

“No.” Xaden’s voice is flat, unreadable, but it makes me flinch anyway. “He just sat there and let it fester. Fix it. We’ve got enough shit falling apart already—don’t let this be one more thing.”

I nod quickly, eager to escape. “I’m going to go check on Eòlas,” I mutter, already moving before anyone can argue.

He and Deigh are curled together in the field, necks twined, scales glinting in the late light. It looks almost serene—until Deigh lifts his head and bows low to me, deliberate, reverent.

“My rider is upset with you,” Deigh says.

I wince, throwing up a hand. “Stop doing that. You don’t owe me anything. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Doesn’t matter what you say. Truth is truth,” Deigh answers simply, his head still inclined.

“Ignore him,” Eòlas says lazily, sprawled across Deigh with his chin resting on the bigger dragon’s neck. His eyes half-lid with smug amusement. “He wants a distraction. He likes to run from the truth. Go talk to your boyfriend.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Hate you both.”

Neither of them bothers to answer.

So I turn, heaviness pressing against my chest as I head toward Liam. He’s sitting under a tree, knife working wood in steady, sharp strokes, curls falling into his face as shavings pile around his boots.

“Apple?” I ask softly when I’m finally within speaking distance. My voice sounds too fragile, too hopeful.

Liam flinches, knife slipping just enough to nick his palm.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dropping the blade.

My heart lurches. I fall to my knees beside him before I even think, grabbing his hand. “Let me look.”

It’s just a small cut—nothing serious—but the sight of his blood still makes my chest ache. I press a handkerchief over it, holding steady pressure. My hands shake more than his does.

“Done ignoring me?” Liam growls, his voice low and sharp. His jaw is tight, eyes flashing with restrained fury.

“I’m sorry, I just—” The words stick in my throat until his gaze finally meets mine, pinning me in place. The anger there makes my stomach twist. “I just get so jealous every time you’re near her.”

His expression falters. The tightness eases into something wounded, tired. “Why?” he sighs, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “I love you.”

“I know,” I whisper. The admission burns. “But you let go of my hand to comfort her.”

His brows draw together. He exhales, long and weary, before saying, “Sunshine, I always hold your hand. Right after the meeting, I reached for it again. But you didn’t let me.”

The memory cuts through me like glass. I look down, ashamed. “But you defend her.” My lips tremble, the words childish even to my own ears.

Another sigh. This one harsher, but not unkind. “I defend all my friends.” His eyes soften, but his mouth stays firm.

“You said she saved you,” I mumble, unable to keep pressure on the wound.

That gets him. His eyes narrow, sharp and accusing now, his whole body going still. “What are you measuring here, Sol?” His voice is quiet—but dangerous.

“I don’t know,” I choke out, guilt crashing into jealousy until I can’t tell them apart. I try to hold back the tears but they blur my vision anyway. “I’m just…jealous.”

A long, tense silence. Then Liam moves.

He sets the knife aside and slips his injured hand free from mine—only to cradle my face with both hands, cut and all. His touch is careful, but his voice is fierce.

“You don’t have to compete with anyone. Not her. Not anyone.”

I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me. His thumbs press lightly against my jaw, grounding me.

“I love you,” he says again—softer this time, raw. “And I don’t want you to pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t shut me out, Sol. If you’re scared, let me hold it. If you’re hurting, let me carry it. If you’re jealous, just tell me. Gods, just tell me—”

My eyes sting. I lean forward until my forehead rests against his, breathing him in.

“I don’t want to be like this,” I whisper. “I want to be better.”

His lips brush mine, gentle, steady. “Then let’s be better. Together.”

I nod. Just a little. Just enough.

He exhales, releasing the weight he’s been carrying, then pulls back. Rising to his feet, he offers me his hand. I take it, and he lifts me effortlessly into his arms. They wrap around me before I can breathe, and then he’s bending me down into another kiss—firmer this time, lingering.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my mouth. His lips curl faintly, even as he sighs. “But I think everyone’s waiting for us.”

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

When he reaches for my hand, I let him take it. Our fingers thread together, warm and sure. I squeeze once. He squeezes back.

Brennan and Violet are already with the group by the time we arrive. The little black dragon—the one that used to be golden—stands awkwardly between them, wings twitching like it doesn’t know what to do with its own body.

“We’re voting if we’re going back to Basgiath,” Garrick says the second we step up. “What’s your vote?”

“I think we should go back,” I answer without hesitation. Brennan shakes his head, letting out a weary sigh.

“Liam?” Garrick asks.

Liam’s grip on my hand tightens, grounding me. “Whatever Sol wants.”

“The second Aetos lays hands on her, you lose Aretia. And you lose your lives,” Brennan warns flatly.

“I’ll train her to shut him out,” Xaden cuts in. “She already has the strongest shield of her year from blocking out Tairn. She just has to learn to keep them up at all times.”

“And until she can shield against a memory reader?” Brennan fires back. “How do you plan to stop him from touching her if you’re not even there?”

“By hitting him in his biggest weakness—his pride,” Xaden smirks. “If everyone’s sure we’re going, we’ll fly as soon as Andarna wakes.”

“We’re sure,” Garrick answers for us, but I still nod.

The little dragon stirs, struggling to stand like a newborn deer on shaky legs.

“That’s adorable,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

“You’re adorable,” Liam murmurs back, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Shadows spill forward to catch Andarna before she can topple.

“I…uh…” Bodhi runs a hand over the back of his neck. “We’re going to have to make some modifications to the harness. That’ll take a few hours.”

“Get it done quickly,” Xaden orders. “I have a plan, but we need to be back within forty-eight hours for it to work. And one of those days is flight time.”

“What’s in forty-eight hours?” Violet asks.

Xaden’s mouth curves into something sharp. “Graduation.”