Rowan did not come in person.
He sent words instead.
A silver-feathered hawk landed at the border at noon, carrying a sealed parchment bound in Ashclaw red. Kael burned it without reading—but Lyra had already felt it.
The moment the flames touched the paper, her chest tightened.
"He said something," she whispered.
Kael stilled. "What?"
"That I don't have to be afraid of wanting more," she said slowly, eyes distant. "That I don't have to wait."
Kael's jaw tightened. "That's how he hunts."
"He said you'd keep me small," Lyra continued softly. "That you're holding me back because you're afraid of what I'll become."
Kael turned fully toward her. "Is that what you think?"
She shook her head immediately. "No. I just… it made me wonder."
He exhaled, steadying himself. "Then let's make sure you never have to wonder again."
Training that day was different.
No distance.
No circling.
Kael stood directly behind her in the clearing, close enough that she could feel his heat, his breath brushing her hair.
"This isn't about power," he murmured. "It's about presence."
Lyra swallowed. "I can feel you."
"That's the point."
He lifted her hands gently, guiding her palms forward. His fingers were calloused, warm—sure. The contact sent a shiver straight down her spine.
Her magic responded instantly.
Green light spilled around them, softer than before, wrapping instead of exploding. Vines rose—but didn't strike. They curled, protective.
"You're doing well," Kael said quietly.
Her voice was unsteady. "It's easier when you're close."
He paused.
"That's dangerous," he said.
"Why?" she asked honestly.
"Because I don't trust myself when you say things like that."
She turned slightly, enough that her shoulder brushed his chest.
"I trust you," she said.
That was all it took.
Kael's control cracked—not shattered, but strained.
He turned her fully to face him, hands settling at her waist. Not pulling. Not claiming. Just holding.
"Lyra," he warned softly.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, breath shallow. "You said I could ask questions."
"Yes."
"Then… why does my heart race when you touch me like this?"
His thumbs flexed, barely moving.
"Because desire doesn't require experience," he said quietly. "Only awareness."
Her cheeks flushed. "Is this… wrong?"
"No," he said firmly. "It's natural."
She hesitated, then placed her hands on his chest—tentative, reverent.
His heartbeat was strong. Fast.
"You feel it too," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Then why do you keep stopping?"
Kael lowered his forehead to hers, eyes closing for a moment of brutal honesty.
"Because once I stop," he murmured, "I won't be able to slow down again."
Her breath hitched.
She leaned in—just slightly.
Their lips brushed.
Not a kiss.
A question.
Kael froze.
Then he pulled back, hands still firm on her waist, voice rough.
"Not yet."
Disappointment flickered across her face—but she nodded.
"I don't want you to rush me," she said softly. "I just… wanted to know."
He brushed his thumb along her jaw, tender, controlled.
"When it happens," he said, "it will be because you're certain. Not because someone pressured you. Not Rowan. Not me. Not the bond."
Her eyes softened. "That makes me feel safe."
Good, he thought. Because if she knew how hard this was—
A sudden surge of power rippled through the territory.
Rowan.
Lyra gasped, clutching Kael instinctively.
"He's angry," she whispered. "I think… I think he felt us."
Kael's arms tightened around her without hesitation.
"Let him," he said. "He doesn't own your awakening."
She rested her forehead against his chest, grounding herself in his presence.
"I don't want to be claimed like a prize," she said. "I want to choose."
Kael kissed her hair—brief, restrained, reverent.
"And you will."
Far away, Rowan crushed the feather charm in his hand, eyes dark with obsession.
"She's slipping through my claws," he snarled.
Back in Nightfang territory, Lyra stood taller than she ever had before.
Not claimed.
Not broken.
But becoming.