Page 66 of Elemental Becoming

My lady.

The words linger, warm, impossible to ignore. And gods help me, it sets my pulse racing. But then his father’s words push back in, quelling any building desire for this man at my side.

As we walk, I lean closer so only he can hear.

“Thane, Valen told me about the prophecy, but he never mentioned anything called the Unmaking.” I hesitate, then press on. “Who are the four that will stand? Me and three others? Or the four elements?”

He listens, gaze fixed ahead.

“Your father said, ‘When four stand, a fifth will rise.’” My pulse quickens. “Who is the fifth?”

“I don’t know. I only know the same version of the prophecy you do. But it sounds like there’s more to it.”

He glances ahead as we walk, his brow drawing in slightly.

“The healers say my father has Sadness of the Heart. Maybe he does, maybe it’s something else. But his mind . . . ” He inhales sharply. “He’s still in there. I believe that now.”

I hear what he isn’t saying. That his father remembers something no one else does. That there is more to this than we realized.

“More questions to ask Valen.”

I nod, my thoughts already turning, trying to make sense of everything we’ve just learned.

The halls of the Fire Clan stronghold stretch ahead, dark stone walls lined with deep crimson banners bearing the Warlord’s sigil. Golden sconces cast a warm glow against thepolished floors, their flames flickering in the drafts that flow through the corridors.

As we pass, staff pause to acknowledge us. They bow their heads respectfully toward Thane, offering murmured greetings of “My Lord.”

Their attention flicks to me, polite and curious.

Some glance at our linked arms, their expressions changing. A few try to hide their smiles. Others are more brazen, offering small nods of approval—silent acknowledgments of what they see. And then there are those who simply observe.

I shouldn’t care, but I do.

Their quiet recognition of Thane’s claim, of my presence beside him, makes something tighten in my chest.

Thane strides through the halls with the kind of effortless confidence that demands attention. Commanding. Wholly at ease in his own power. He moves with a warrior’s grace, his steps sure and unhurried, as if the stronghold itself bends to his presence.

And gods help me, it does something to me.

Our arms are still linked, and it’s impossible not to feel the raw strength coiled beneath his control. The fluid way he moves, the surety in each step—it’s infuriatingly intoxicating. How does someone make walking look like power and temptation all at once?

A warlord’s hold. A warrior’s steadiness.

I should be thinking about the Prophecy.

About Valen. About what his father said.

Instead, my pulse turns traitor, quickening for reasons that have nothing to do with any of it.

What is wrong with me?!

Two weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since we’ve had sex. Since the attack when I was flying with Calryx. That was the last time.

And after that?

Interrupted.Twice.