Silk and Steel

Three weeks passed in the glass tower.

Nia healed. The hollows in her cheeks filled out. The bruises on her skin faded to yellow, then vanished. Her hair, once brittle and matted, shone like polished mahogany.

Kade came to her every evening.

He brought her gifts. A dress made of blue velvet. A necklace of silver and sapphire. Old books with leather bindings because he remembered she liked to read.

He never touched her violently. In fact, he barely touched her at all, treating her like a museum artifact that might crumble. But his presence was a weight. He watched her eat. He watched her read. He watched her sleep.

One evening, he found her standing by the window, pressing her hand against the glass, looking down at the streetlights far below.

"You're unhappy," Kade stated. He was pouring wine into two crystal glasses.

"I'm bored, Kade," Nia said, turning to him. "I'm lonely. I want to walk in the garden I can see from here. I want to smell the air."

"I brought you flowers," Kade said, gesturing to a vase of white lilies. "They smell better than the smog."

"It's not the same," Nia snapped. "I am not a doll, Kade. I am a person. You say I'm free, but I can't leave this room."

Kade set the wine down. The glass clinked sharply against the table. He walked over to her, closing the distance until she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

"You don't understand," he murmured, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Out there, you are prey. You are an omega with no pack, no mark. They would tear you apart."

"Then mark me," Nia challenged. "Make me pack."

Kade’s pupils dilated. His hand slid down to her neck, resting over her pulse. "If I mark you, Nia... there is no going back. You become mine in blood and bone."

"I thought that's what you wanted," she whispered, her heart hammering.

"I want you to want it," Kade said hoarsely. "I want you to realize that there is nothing out there for you. Only cold. Only pain. Here... I can give you everything."

He leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Let me bathe you."

It wasn't a question.

In the massive marble bathroom, the water steamed, scented with lavender. Nia sat in the tub, the water lapping at her collarbone. Kade rolled up his sleeves, kneeling beside the tub.

He took a sponge and began to wash her back.

It was intimate, but terrifyingly detached. He washed her with the focus of a man polishing a weapon.

"Do you remember the river?" Nia asked quietly, staring at the tap. "Behind the mill? We used to splash each other."

"I remember," Kade said. "I remember you crying because you scraped your knee."

"I remember you carrying me home," Nia said. "You were kind, Kade."

Kade stopped scrubbing. His hand rested heavy on her shoulder.

"I was weak," he corrected. "Kindness didn't stop the slavers from taking you. Kindness didn't stop them from burning the village. I learned, Nia. Power is the only thing that keeps what it loves."

He dropped the sponge. He gripped her wet shoulders, turning her to face him. His eyes were wild, desperate.

"I will never be weak again," he vowed. "And I will never let you go."

Nia looked at him, and for the first time, she didn't see the boy she loved. She saw the warlord. And she realized that the boy had died in the fire, just like everything else.

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