The moment Auren stepped into the capital, the pain in his chest shifted.
It did not vanish, but it softened in a way that told him he was closer.
The sharp tearing sensation that had followed her disappearance eased into a tight pull, steady and alive.
She was here.
Somewhere within the city walls.
The bond no longer felt stretched across impossible miles.
It felt contained.
He stood in the quiet market before sunrise, waiting.
The city had not yet awakened.
Stalls remained covered, wooden frames casting long shadows under the pale morning light.
Auren positioned himself where Steven worked.
He did not pace.
He did not fidget.
He stood still, conserving thought, feeling the subtle rhythm of the bond.
Alive.
Unharmed.
Distant, but near enough.
As the first merchants began to arrive, their carts rattling over the cobblestones, Steven approached his stall with a heavy basket of supplies balanced firmly against his hip.
He slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a tall stranger already standing in the shadows before his display.
He did not recognize Auren; to him, this was only a man dressed in dark, possessing an unnerving stillness and watchful silver eyes that seemed to catch the morning light like polished metal.
“Can I help you?” Steven asked, his voice steady but cautious.
Auren did not move, keeping his own voice level and devoid of any servant’s deference.
“I’m looking for Evryn.”
Steven’s hands stilled briefly as he set down his basket, the wood thudding against the table.
His expression remained composed, though his gaze sharpened.
“Many women are named Evryn.”
“The one who works with dried flowers,” Auren replied, his tone growing more precise, his silver eyes never leaving Steven’s face.
Steven studied him more carefully now.
He took in the stranger’s regal posture and the way he commanded the space around him, and Steven’s own posture subtly shifted into something protective, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for a confrontation.
“And who are you to her?” Steven demanded, the question hanging heavy between them.
“A friend,” Auren said simply, though the weight of the word felt far more complex.
Steven did not smile, and he certainly did not soften.
He looked at the silver-eyed man with a cold, territorial clarity.
“If she wanted you to know where she is, she would have told you.
I don’t give her location to strangers who appear out of the dawn.”
The refusal was calm and firm.
Auren felt the sharp edge of frustration rise, but he kept it buried deep beneath a mask of cold discipline.
This man was the only thread leading to her; he could not afford to let it snap.
“I have no intention of harming her,” Auren said, his voice a smooth, low vibration that commanded attention.
“I simply need to see her.”
“I don’t know you,” Steven replied, his voice flat and unyielding.
A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken challenge.
Auren took a single, measured step back.
He did not leave.
Instead, he positioned himself across the narrow path and waited, his silver eyes fixed on the horizon.
Hours stretched into a test of endurance.
The dull ache in Auren’s chest began to soften as the day wore on, a silent confirmation through the bond that she was still within the city…resting, not fleeing.
Steven noticed the tall stranger remained.
He glanced up from his work periodically, unsettled by the quiet, predatory stillness of the man who refused to disappear.
As evening approached and the market lanterns were lit, casting long, flickering shadows, Steven folded his arms.
He spoke without looking directly at the shadow across the path.
“If you stay here, I will not return home tonight.”
Auren stepped closer, his movements fluid and controlled.
“I told you.
I will not hurt her.”
Steven finally turned, examining Auren properly under the warm glow of the lantern light.
He saw a terrifying steadiness…a man who did not sway with impulse or emotion.
He saw something dangerous, something ancient, but meticulously contained.
“You are not simply a friend,” Steven noted quietly.
Auren didn’t deny it.
The truth was far more complicated than any word Steven could offer.
“I don’t know if she even wants to see you,” Steven continued.
“She left without a word,” Auren answered, the admission tasting like ash.
The words landed with more force than a physical blow, cutting through Auren’s pride.
He felt the weight of them but chose patience over force.
“I will wait,” he said simply.
Morning returned, painting the market in pale greys.
Steven reopened his stall, and Auren was there, a silent sentinel across the way.
Customers came and went, sensing a tension they couldn’t name.
By the evening of the second day, the air had grown heavy with the unspoken friction of their competing wills.
Then, a small boy darted through the crowd, weaving between the stalls until he reached Steven.
He pressed a folded scrap of paper into the merchant’s hand and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Steven unfolded the paper slowly.
His eyes lifted, finding Auren immediately.
Something in his expression shifted…not into fear or anger, but a somber decision.
He stepped out from behind his stall and approached Auren directly.
“Follow me,” Steven said.
Auren’s body reacted before his mind could, the bond in his chest tightening with a sudden, electric awareness.
“She has agreed to see you.”
Relief did not break across Auren’s face, but it moved through his veins like a revitalizing current.
The hollow pain that had haunted him since her disappearance eased into something steady and grounding.
Without another word, he followed, his shadow lengthening behind him as he moved toward her.
Steven led Auren through the quieter streets of the capital as dusk settled into night.
The farther they walked from the market, the softer the city became.
Lamps burned low along narrow paths, and the air carried the scent of wood smoke and evening meals.
They stopped in front of a small house.
It was simple, with a wooden door and narrow windows.
There were no guards and no fancy decorations.
Auren felt her immediately.
The pain in his chest finally stopped.
The bond felt steady again.
She was inside, just a few feet away.
He felt a huge wave of relief, but he kept his face calm and cold.
Steven did not open the door.
He knocked once and then stepped to the side.
He stood between Auren and the house, quietly making sure Auren couldn’t just rush in.
Inside, he heard footsteps.
The door opened slowly, and there was Evryn.
She looked different.
She was wearing her simple, comfortable dress.
Her hair was loose.
But the light in her eyes was gone.
She looked tired and very cautious.
For a long time, no one spoke.
The magic bond between Auren and Evryn hummed because they were so close again.
Evryn stared at Auren.
She didn’t look happy or angry…just sad.
“I will be fine,” she said softly, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
Then, she looked at Steven.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with a quiet gratitude for his support.
Steven hesitated, his eyes moving once between her and Auren.
He did not trust easily, but he trusted her judgment.
Only then did Steven step back fully and walk away down the dim street, though not without glancing over his shoulder once more before turning the corner.
Evryn opened the door wider.
Auren stepped inside, his presence filling the small space without effort.
The air felt tighter now that they were alone.
The scent of dried flowers lingered faintly, mixing with the cool night air that slipped through the window.
Evryn stayed by the door, her shoulders tight.
She didn’t look at him at first.
“Steven told me you are searching for me,” she said quietly.
“Auren, I ran away.
I tried to hide.
But you still looked for me.
Why?”
She turned to face him.
Her face looked pale in the dim light.
“What do you want from me?”
The question wasn’t angry.
It was just exhausted.
Auren felt a sharp ache in his chest.
He looked at her and realized he couldn’t keep the secret anymore.
If she didn’t know the truth, she would keep running.
And if she kept running, she would die.
He had to tell her what tied them together.
“There is something you need to know,” he said.
His voice was low and heavy.
He told her everything.
He told her about the curse, the ancient magic, and the spell that bound his soul to hers.
He explained that his body was forced to protect her.
If she was hurt, he felt the pain.
If she was far away, his chest burned.
He was a prisoner of her safety.
Evryn did not move.
She gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white.
The room felt very cold.
Finally, she let out a small, broken laugh.
It was a sad sound.
“So, all of this,” she whispered, “was never your choice.”
Auren felt her heart breaking through the magic bond.
It hurt worse than any wound he had ever taken.
“You were forced to stay,” she said.
She looked at him as if she were seeing a stranger.
“You didn’t want to be here.
You had to be.”
Auren stepped toward her, his hand reaching out.
“It started like that, but it changed, Evryn.”
“But how do you know?” she asked.
Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“You didn’t choose to stand in front of that boiling water.
The spell moved your feet.
You didn’t choose to fight those wolves.
The magic moved your arms.”
Her voice trembled.
“You are a king; I ruined your life.
Because of a spell I didn’t cast.
”
Auren moved closer, his voice firm and desperate.
“Evryn, listen to me.
I care about you.
Even if there was no magic, I would never let anyone hurt you.
I would still be here.”
She looked up at him, and a single tear finally fell.
“How would you know, Auren?” she asked softly.
“How can you tell which feelings are yours and which ones belong to the spell?
If the magic left today, would you even look at me twice?”
Auren opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
He wanted to say yes, but the truth was a heavy weight.
The magic was so loud, so constant, that he couldn’t hear his own heart anymore.
The silence between them was loud.
It was the saddest answer he could give.
Evryn walked to the door and pulled it open.
The cold night air rushed in, blowing her hair across her face.
“You should go,” she said.
Her voice was a ghost of a sound.
Auren looked at her one last time.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that she was enough, magic or no magic.
But he knew she needed to breathe.
He knew the truth was a wound that needed time to heal.
He stepped out into the cold night without a word.
The sound of the door closing behind him felt like a mountain falling.
He stood in the dark, his chest aching with a pain that the spell didn’t cause…a pain that was entirely, painfully, his own.