Page 402 of Elemental Becoming

Good thing he is in Lumoria and not here in the Shadow Realm.

“And where do we stand after that wretched ball and battle? We better have what we need because I lost another Commander at the place they call Greythorne.”

Contempt drips from every word. The woman sounds like an agitated viper poised to strike.

The man glances up once, and when his eyes meet her silver gaze, he swallows hard. Still, he dares to hold it as he answers.

“The Spiritborn remains in the capital. Her recovery continues. The Warlord rarely leaves her side. He remained with her throughout her recovery.”

A faint smile touches her lips.

“Anything else?”

Somewhere in the distance, someone screams. The man reflexively glances toward the sound before returning his attention to the woman. She never turns her head. Her expression remains unreadable, as though the suffering of another is beneath notice.

“Witnesses reported that he nearly broke formation when she was struck during the battle.”

The smile deepens. “Of course he did.”

The man studies her carefully. “You expected that?”

“For years, Thane Caelum has been defined by discipline. Duty above all else. Duty before desire. Duty before grief. Duty before himself.” Her smile sharpens. “Yet when she was wounded, he nearly abandoned that discipline.”

“He recovered,” he points out.

“Yes.” Selene inclines her head slightly. “But not before revealing where the fracture lies. A man can endure almostanything. Fear. Pain. Loss. But love . . . ” She lets the word linger. “Love makes people predictable.”

Understanding settles across the man’s face.

“And predictable people can be manipulated.”

“Precisely.” Selene fans her fingers open and studies them with casual indifference. “I expected the bond to influence him.”

The man’s brow furrows. “The bond?”

“A connection older than either of them. Older than the prophecy itself. It is doing exactly what it was designed to do.”

“Which is?”

“To bring them together.”

Her lips curl into a twisted smile.

“And eventually,” she says softly, “to bring them home.”

She steeples her hands, her talon-like nails clicking softly against one another.

“It is time to put the plan into motion.”

The man’s expression hardens. “The Spiritborn?”

Selene’s smile never wavers. “She must remain alive.”

He lowers his gaze. “Yes, Shadeheart.”

The woman lifts a hand and traces the edge of the frame. The glass ripples, and the man’s face disappears.

She turns away from the scrying mirror and walks to the single window in the room. It stretches from floor to ceiling, no wider than a man’s shoulders. She rests her hands lightly against the cool stone and looks out across the world she has made her home.