Page 310 of House Ignis

"Shh," she whispered, her voice professional but firm. "It was just a flare. You’ll be fine, Princess."

I stiffened, my eyes tracking the crest on her shoulder.

It wasn't the Academy seal.

It was the sigil of the Royal House of Zymarra. A castle nurse. Great. That meant my father was here, watching from the royal box, sending his own staff to ensure his "investment" didn't break before the Aegos Trials were over.

The nurse moved aside, and my breath hitched. Asher was sitting in a chair jammed against the side of the cot.

His leg was bouncing with a frantic, restless energy that shook the floor.

His arms were folded tight over his chest, and he was biting his thumbnail, his jaw so tight I could see the muscles leaping in his neck.

He looked like a male who had spent the last hour contemplating murder.

"Just drink lots of water," the nurse continued, setting a tray of dark, pungent herbs on the bedside table.

“Take these. They should ease the pain until the end of the Trials, but remember, do not draw too much. Take a break.”

I nodded weakly, my throat too dry to speak, and mouthed a thank you. I watched Asher track the nurse with a lethal gaze until the door clicked shut. His leg was still bouncing, a rhythmic thrum against the stone.

"Asher—" I started, but my voice was raw, the word barely catching in the air.

His gaze snapped to mine.

The intensity in his silver eyes was staggering—not just anger, but a jagged, bleeding hole of hurt and betrayal that made my heart seize.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His voice wasn't a roar; it was a low, broken rasp that carried the weight of every secret I’d kept.

"I... I didn't want you to think less of me," I whispered, my eyes stinging. I hated the weakness in my voice. "I didn't want you looking at me like I was something fragile. I didn't want you treating me differently because of some... some sickness I can't even explain.”

Asher let out a harsh, jagged laugh that held no mirth.

He stood up, the chair screeching against the floor, and leaned over the bed until he was inches from my face.

"Think less of you?" he echoed, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fury and devotion. "Ava, I think everything of you. You are the flame and the ruin, and you thought I’d see you as weak? I thought you were dying, Ava. I felt you slipping away through the bond.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near my face before he closed it into a fist, pulling back as if he couldn't trust himself to touch me.

"You let me believe you were just being reckless," he hissed. "You let me stand there and yell at you for 'overdrawing' when you were actually fighting something inside you, I didn't even know existed. We are supposed to be a team. We are supposed to be the flame and the shadow, but you left me in the dark."

The hurt in his eyes was worse than any cramp.

He didn't see a fragile princess; he saw a partner who hadn't trusted him enough to let him carry the weight with her.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, a single tear escaping and tracking through the soot on my cheek. "I just... I wanted to be enough on my own."

"You are more than enough," he whispered, finally placing his hand at the back of my neck, his grip possessive and fierce even through his anger.

"But if this is the war we're fighting, you don't ever fight it alone again. Do you understand me?"

I reached up, my hand trembling as I covered his, my fingers digging into the leather of his bracers.

The bond was a jagged, raw thing between us now—no longer just a tether of power, but a bridge of shared pain and a terrifying, bone-deep honesty.

"I understand," I whispered, the word catching on the sob I was still trying to choke back.