Chapter 7: The Bloodline's Echo
342 Words
Chapter 7: The Bloodline's Echo
By midnight, the lower archives were silent, save for the crackle of a dying fire in the corner hearth. Calla sat at her desk, staring at her reflection in a small glass basin of water.
Without the daily application of the corrosive sun-root paste, the crimson mark on her left shoulder had fully taken hold. It no longer burned; instead, it felt like a second heartbeat, steady and humming with ancient authority.
The heavy iron door swung open quietly. Gabriel walked in, holding a small brass vial and a roll of clean linen bandages.
"Your shoulder," he said, setting the items down on her desk. "My personal medic prepared an ointment. It cools the skin."
Calla looked up, surprised. "You don't need to tend to me, Duke Vane."
"Gabriel," he corrected softly, pulling up a chair beside her. He unstoppered the vial, filling the room with the scent of wild crushed mint and aloe. "And in this room, we are not Duke and scholar, Calla."
He reached out, his gloved fingers surprisingly gentle as he pushed the dark fabric of her collar aside. The moment his bare fingertips brushed her skin to apply the salve, a sharp shock of static danced between them. Calla gasped softly, her breath catching in her throat.
Gabriel froze, his slate-gray eyes locking onto hers. The space between them shrank to nothing.
"When Jaxon cast you aside, he thought he was stripping you of power," Gabriel murmured, his voice low and dangerous, yet tender. "He had no idea he was delivering the ultimate weapon straight to my doorstep."
"Is that all I am to you?" Calla asked quietly, her eyes searching his. "A weapon against Blackthorn?"
Gabriel’s gaze softened, his hand cupping the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline. "You saved my men. You claimed your identity in front of my council without flinching. You are no weapon, Calla. You are the spark this realm has been waiting for."
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