Page 114 of Elemental Becoming

“Amara, darling, the world is lucky to have you in it.”

Emotion swells so suddenly in my chest it almost hurts.

“Sometimes, I still feel like that girl from the village,” I admit softly. “All this grandeur, all these people . . . it feels like a world away from where I come from.”

Thane’s fingers trace a deliberate path along the sigils on my spine, top to bottom: Fire. Air. Water. Earth.

My dress leaves my back nearly bare, and every graze of his fingertips sends my thoughts spiraling.

He untangles our hands and presses mine more firmly against his chest.

Gods.

I can feel his heart pounding beneath my palm.

His gaze finds mine—soft, full of wonder. As if, at this moment, I am everything.

“Your roots are part of what makes you extraordinary. Don’t ever doubt that. It’s one of the many reasons I fell for you. You’re not just some village girl.”

His eyes burn into mine.

“You’reeverything.”

His fingers continue their slow path along my spine, each deliberate stroke sending my breath stuttering. The ballroom fades—the music, the guests, the glittering chandeliers—none of it exists anymore.

Only him.

Only this.

I can barely seem to breathe.

Then, suddenly, Thane stills.

His fingers freeze against my back. The softness vanishes from his face in an instant.

“Come with me.”

I nod immediately.

I would go anywhere with him.

CAUGHT

FIFTEEN

I have devoted much thought to thehowof the Spiritborn. How she is meant to shape the course of this war. Often, when confronted with a problem, I turn it upside down in search of a new perspective. A theory came to me: chaos. Perhaps her youth, her late training, and her inexperience are not weaknesses, but strengths. The enemy studies patterns, anticipates discipline, predicts reason. But they cannot prepare for unpredictability. I will share this with the Warlord. He will not welcome the idea, but I cannot ignore the feeling that this may be a key.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

He turns, grasping my hand in his.

We move through the dancing couples and off the floor, weaving between circular tables set for dinner. Thane nods politely to those we pass, ignoring every attempt to pull him into conversation.

Every movement remains controlled, effortless. He never lets go of my hand.

I keep my head lowered, pulse racing with anticipation, as I lift my dress to keep from tripping.