“What?” The word comes out snappier than I intend.
“I would have lived,” he clarifies, calm in a way that makes it worse. “For a time.”
My pulse spikes, emotion—deep and instinctive—reacting before I can think it through. “Varek?—”
“You are not external to me,” he continues, gaze locked to mine. “Not anymore. The bond is not simply connection. It is integration.”
I stare at him. Because I knew. Some part of me knew. But hearing it like this—clear, undeniable—drags it into something real.
“If you had left,” he says, quieter now, “the absence would have broken something vital. I would not have recovered from that loss.”
The honesty in it is brutal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. Maybe I should be asking why he’s telling me this here and now, but this is Varek, and I can only imagine the strain of him not sharing the full truth with me had on him.
His expression shifts—just slightly. “Because it would have influenced your decision.”
Yeah. Yeah, it would have.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to ground myself around the weight of it. “You should’ve told me.”
“No. I would not have kept you through fear.”
His words hit hard, because he could have easily. And he didn’t.
“I chose you,” I say, stepping closer, needing him to hear it properly. “Not because I had to. Not because I didn’t have a choice. I saw that rift, Varek. I saw home.” My voice drops, steadier now, despite the hurt in my chest. I could have lost him forever. He could have died. I push the pain away, focusing on him and this moment. On us. “And I still stayed.”
His breath catches. It’s only slight but the bond carries it straight through me.
“I chose you,” I repeat, more determined now.
The bond surges, feeling steady and right.
His hand rises slowly, deliberately, settling against the side of my neck. “Then we choose this,” he says.
I lean into it without thinking, my forehead brushing his chin. “Yeah,” I murmur. “We do.”
For a moment, everything narrows.
No rebellion or queen. No rifts tearing holes through worlds.
Just this.
Just him.
Just us.
The interruption comes fast enough to feel inevitable.
“Varek—” A runner skids to a stop nearby, breath uneven, eyes wide in a way that immediately sets something off in my gut.
Varek straightens instantly, his hand dropping as command snaps back into place like armour locking over skin. “What is it?”
“Movement,” the runner says. “Outer perimeter. Not hostile?—”
Varek’s gaze snaps to his. “Then why report it like this?”
“Because…” The runner hesitates, swallowing hard. “You need to see it.”
