Chapter 240: The Weight of Desire
The night in the Hollow was restless. Fires burned low, casting amber light across stone and timber, and the sound of the river carried soft and steady through the stillness.
Azhara couldn't sleep.
She sat on the balcony outside her chambers, her knees pulled up to her chest, the summer wind carrying the scent of pine and forge smoke. Her heart had been unsettled ever since her training with Kael began—each session leaving her stronger, sharper, more confident. And yet, it wasn't just the training that unsettled her.
It was him.
The way he corrected her stance with steady, calloused hands. The way his eyes burned like coals when he pushed her harder than she thought she could endure. The way he spoke of her strength with such certainty that it made her believe it herself.
And the way she caught herself watching him when she shouldn't.
Azhara buried her face in her hands, groaning quietly. You're a healer, she scolded herself. You've no right to want more. Not with him. Not with her.
But the truth seared in her chest. She wanted. Fiercely. Deeply. Shamefully.
She wanted Kael.
The door behind her creaked, and Azhara flinched. She turned, startled, and there was Lyria—bow slung casually across her back, her golden hair spilling loose from its braid. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, unreadable.
"Couldn't sleep?" Lyria asked.
Azhara swallowed, forcing a thin smile. "No. Just… restless."
Lyria stepped out beside her, leaning on the balcony rail. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy. Then Lyria said, softly but sharp as an arrow:
"You love him."
The words struck Azhara like a blade through the gut. She stared, mouth parting, breath caught. "I… I don't—"
"Don't lie," Lyria cut in, eyes locked on hers, voice steady but trembling beneath the surface. "I see the way you look at him. The way he looks at you."
Azhara's throat burned. She wanted to deny it, to push it down, but her voice cracked as the truth spilled free.
"Yes," she whispered. "I do. Gods, I do."
Her hands trembled against her knees, shame flooding her. "I never meant to—Lyria, I never meant to steal anything from you. I—he saved me. He gave me strength when I thought I had none. And I—" She broke off, choking on the words. Tears stung her eyes. "I know he's yours. I know he always will be. But I can't stop what's in me."
Lyria listened, her face unreadable, her eyes glistening with something fierce and aching. She turned away, gripping the railing until her knuckles whitened.
"I hated you for it," she admitted, her voice low, shaking. "At first. I thought you were trying to take him. To slip between us." She inhaled sharply, blinking back tears. "But then I realized—you're not trying. You just… love him. The same way I do. Fiercely. Helplessly. It burns you, doesn't it?"
Azhara's lips trembled. "Yes. Every moment."
The silence that followed was unbearable. Then Lyria turned, her eyes wet, raw, and burning with emotion.
"You don't understand what he means to me. He is the air in my lungs, the fire in my blood. I've watched him break himself to keep us alive. And I've sworn to never let him carry it alone again."
Azhara nodded, tears streaking her cheeks. "I don't want to take him from you. I just want… to stand with you. With him. To love him in my way, if you'd ever let me."
Lyria's jaw clenched, her chest heaving. She looked as though she might lash out, but then—slowly—she softened, her fury breaking into something rawer.
"I don't know if I can share him," she admitted, voice trembling. "Part of me wants to claw the thought out of existence. But another part…" She faltered, her lips quivering. "Another part wonders if loving him means loving all the bonds he makes. Even the ones that burn me to see."
Azhara stared at her, heart pounding. "Then what do we do?"
Lyria shut her eyes, tears spilling finally down her cheeks. "We don't lie about it anymore. That's the first step."
Azhara nodded, her chest aching with both fear and relief. For the first time, the truth was out, laid bare between them—ugly, brutal, but real.
Lyria opened her eyes again, locking her gaze on Azhara's. And in them, Azhara didn't see only anger or jealousy. She saw recognition. The same fire, the same desperate, consuming love for Kael that lived inside her own chest.
Neither woman spoke again that night. They stood side by side in silence, two hearts raw and aching, staring out at the Hollow under the moonlight. The truth hung between them now—impossible to ignore, impossible to erase.
And somehow, despite the pain of it, Azhara felt lighter than she had in weeks.