Page 108 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

“So what now?” Kamden asks.

“Tonight we rest, and then tomorrow, we learn how to win this war. No amount of training could have prepared us for what happened, but we’re here now, and they seem to know how to fight this. So, that’s what we do.”

Trysten nods from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. “I’d like to learn. What are they?”

Raea smiles then, sitting up. “Our people. Fae and Elven warriors. Our bloodlines are the same as theirs.”

The room falls silent as our friends process her words.

I look at Raea, and the way she says our people sends a strange prickle down my spine. There is a resonance in her voice I haven't heard before—a sense of homecoming that goes beyond finding safety. It’s as if the very air of Auralis is filling in the hollow spaces she’s carried her whole life. She isn't a Princess of Treon anymore—she is a daughter of this ancient world. For a fleeting second, I feel like I can see who she would have been if she had always been born Elven.

I awake with a pounding headache. Raea is still asleep, her breath even and shallow. We were up late with our friends explaining all we’ve learned.

Aolyn finally explained what the hell was going on.

Her father has been working with Raea’s sister for over a year. His move to send Boyce and Aolyn to the wedding was to infiltrate the palace and to await orders. She had apologized again and again for lying to us. She promised she didn’t do anything and instead found us as quickly as possible.

I slip free from Raea’s grasp and find Clara stirring in her room, so I leave the door open as I return to the bathing chamber. I slide into the soaking pool, but the warm water and the scent of rosemary don’t soothe me this time.

Yesterday, this water was a sanctuary for Raea and me to connect, to grasp with the horrors of the day. Today, it is only a place to wash. I don’t linger. I scrub off the night, my mind already cataloging our lack of weapons and the unknown strength of the warriors outside.

The time for studying is over. The time for survival has begun.

Once dressed, I find Clara sitting in bed with Raea, sobbing into her shoulder. Raea runs a soothing hand over Clara’s blonde curls. I lean into the archway, taking them both in. I haven’t thought much about the prophecy or my future with Raea. Getting through the school year and dealing with our powers seemed like a priority. But now, seeing them like this, it brings an unfamiliar warmth to my chest.

I want to see Raea as a mother. I want to have a family with her.

I spent years watching my mother disappear under my father’s shadow. But watching Raea cradle my sister, murmuring soft comforts meant only for her, I see a future that doesn’t end in pain. I want the house. The children. The quiet, hard-won peace we were never allowed.

The Mating Bond hums in my chest, but my thoughts are unyielding, reminding me of the truth: before I can be a father, I have to be strong enough, prepared enough to win this war.

I have to become the man who can protect his family.

“I want to go home,” Clara sobs. “Is Mother okay?”

Raea holds my sister close, wiping away her tears and pressing a kiss to her forehead before she whispers something along the lines of there are special warriors protecting them.

Sensing my presence, Raea glances up and offers me a soft smile before whispering again to Clara. Clara turns to face me, and I take in her big tears and flushed face. In a handful of strides, I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her into my lap.

“I’m going to see if we can get her some food,” Raea says, sliding out of bed and pulling on a robe.

As she reaches the door, there’s a knock.

I’m on my feet before the first knock even finishes.

By the time Brynna and Finn walk in, the sweet brother is gone, replaced by a man who looks like he’s already weighed the room and decided how many of them he could kill before hitting the floor. I lean against the archway, my posture deceptively relaxed with my arms crossed.

Brynna’s eyes scan the room, finding Clara in our bed. “Well, she’s awake.” She nods. “We have some clothing for her, and then we’ve scheduled her to be with a tutor for the day. We have lots to do, and very little time⁠—”

“Brynn,” Finn warns as he clenches his jaw. “We talked about this.”

Clara slides off the bed and crosses the room with quiet determination. She takes Raea’s hand, an anchor I realize, then turns to the others, lifting her chin a fraction.

“Princess Clara of Okenen,” she says, her voice clear and brave.

Raea’s smile is radiant as she looks down at my sister.

“Are you the warriors who are helping to protect my family?”