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I look up at him, my mind spinning, and I don’t hold back this time. “How can I be who I’m meant to be when I don’t even know who I am?” The words spill out before I can stop them, raw and jagged. It feels like I am unraveling, and I hate it.

For a moment, Oberon just looks at me as if trying to understand, as if trying to see past the walls I keep erect around myself. His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer, the space between us evaporating. There is no teasing now, no playfulness in his voice. “I see you, Lyra. I see all of you, even the pieces you haven’t put together yet,” he murmurs, his voice just above a whisper, but it feels like a vow. “You’ve always known who you are, you’re just too afraid to see it. Too afraid to accept the pieces that make you whole.” His eyes hold mine, piercing through me, a quiet storm in them. “And maybe . . . maybe I’m afraid for you, too. But I won’t let you drown in your fear. I’ll help you face it, whether you’re ready or not.”

There is a long pause, and I can feel the pull between us, magnetic and undeniable. My pulse quickens as he looks down at me, his gaze searching, almost like he is waiting for me to say something.

But I can’t.

I just stand there, frozen in the moment, too afraid to speak.

Finally, Oberon breaks the silence, his voice teasing once again, though there is a trace of something softer beneath. “Well, we’ll work on that later. For now, we have dinner waiting, and I’m sure you have more snarky comments to make about my leadership skills.”

I roll my eyes, the tension between us still there, but I can’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “You are insufferable.”

“You love it,” he replies smoothly, his grin returning, though his eyes still hold that unspoken promise, that quiet, burning intensity that makes everything feel more than it should.

As we continue down the hallway, my heart is racing, and there is a new kind of understanding between us now, something deeper, more charged. Something I’m not ready for, but somehow, I don’t want to back away from it.

Chapter twenty-one

Shifting

Dinner is a cacophony of noise. We sit at a long, wooden table in a crowded hall, the air filled with the chatter of Fae voices, mugs sloshing, and laughter echoing off the stone walls. The clinking of silverware against plates fills the gaps between conversations, but despite the lively atmosphere, my mind can’t seem to escape Oberon’s earlier words. His voice still lingers in my thoughts, “You’ll have to face your past if you want to unlock your full potential.” The weight of that statement settles heavily in my chest, the thought of confronting what I’ve buried within bringing a tightness to my throat.

Ash, as usual, is the one who’s doing most of the talking. He has a way of commanding attention, his voice smooth and effortless as he entertains the table with his never-ending jokes. Even Oberon seems more at ease here, his usual broody demeanor slightly softened as he engages in Ash’s banter, though I notice he is still sparing with his words. Every now and then, his gaze will flick toward me, and for a split second, I’ll catch something unreadable, before he shifts his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zander, however, chooses not to sit with us. Not that I am disappointed. I don’t exactly crave his company, especially after the tension that was brewing between us earlier. The way he shot me that glare, the coldness in his eyes, was enough to make me wonder just what kind of person he truly is. And as I look at him now, sitting off in the corner of the room by himself, I can’t help but think that his perpetual scowl might just be his default expression.

He is . . . off-putting, to say the least.

I’m not sure what it is about Zander that rubs me the wrong way, but it is more than just his surliness. It is his presence, intense and unnerving. It makes me feel uneasy, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Ash, noticing I am quiet, nudges me with his elbow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Lyra. Either that, or you’re plotting the perfect escape route from this little soiree.”

I manage a smile, though it is more out of politeness than anything else. “Just thinking,” I say, my eyes inadvertently flicking back to Zander, who is now glaring at the far wall like it has personally wronged him.

Ash follows my gaze and snorts. “Oh, don’t mind him. Zander’s always like that. The somber, mysterious type. Thinks it makes him look dangerous.” He pauses, eyeing me with a teasing smirk. “Although it does kind of work on some people.”

I can't help the slight tension that rolls through me at his words, but I quickly push it down. “I’m sure it works on someone,” I mutter, taking a sip of my drink to mask the unease crawling up my spine.

Oberon, who has been unusually quiet, speaks then, his voice low and slightly more playful than usual. “Don’t let Zander’s mood swings get to you, Lyra. He’s been like that since I met him.”

I glance at him, catching a glimpse of that familiar, indifferent expression. “And what about you?” I ask, unable to stop myself. “You’ve got your own . . . charm going on.”

Oberon’s lips curve just slightly, as if he is amused by the challenge in my voice. “Me? I’m nothing like Zander,” he says, a faint chuckle slipping through his usually guarded tone. “And I happen to be very charming.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Because I don’t see you exactly joining the party either.”

His eyes meet mine, sharp and intense. “I don’t need to,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “Some people . . . speak the loudest by saying the least.”

Before I can reply, Ash cuts in with a grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe you are a little more like Zander than you’d like to admit.”

Oberon gives Ash a sidelong glance, but there is a hint of amusement in it. “Watch it, Ash.”

I feel a strange flutter in my chest at the subtle exchange. Whatever this is between Oberon and me is getting harder to ignore.

For now, though, I focus on the noise around me, the clinking of mugs, the laughter, and the strange sense of belonging that is creeping into my chest, despite the war looming on the horizon and the ever-present pull of the past I still haven’t faced.

After dinner, Ash wanders off to his room, leaving Oberon to show me to mine. We walk down a long hallway, each door identical to the last. It is a maze in here, and I can't help but feel like I could get lost in this place far too easily.