He looked away while I stood silent, astonished by all he read in my face. Then he met my eyes again.
“And whether you want to accept it or not, I protected you and saved your life there. At the beginning, I was hard on you because you reminded me of the pain of losing my mother. But I never showed you any true loathing.”
His eyes flickered to mine, silver and unyielding.
“I helped you in the Hall of Mirrors to channel your flames. I went to that tavern because I knew you’d be in danger with the royalists after being placed in Dragontail. I saved your life there again and never asked for anything in return. You want me to hate you because that’s easier for you than facing anything else. You built that façade, and you are so stubborn you won’t even see it.”
I stood frozen, torn between shock and a rising sense of exposure.
It felt like someone had cracked open my ribcage and poured truth straight into my lungs, truth that was heavy, burning, and impossible to ignore, swelling up until I could barely breathe.
For someone who rarely spoke, he was saying everything. He said everything I’d refused to see.
Everything I had twisted into something safer, something simpler.
He had never once said he hated me. He had never tried to kill me.
Had I really been assuming all of that this entire time?
His words unraveled every excuse I had so carefully woven around myself.
Rory had been the one who beat me bloody on the training mats, not him. And I remembered Rory’s voice in the meadow, muttering that both Ugo and Lorik had thought she’d gone too far.
He had been the one who held me steady beneath the mirrored roof, guiding my flames when I thought I would lose control.
He had been the one who stepped between the royalists and me and hadn’t asked for anything in return. I had convinced myself he wanted something from me, because that was easier than believing he simply… cared.
He had saved my life and asked for nothing. Not praise. Not loyalty. Not even acknowledgment.Maybe the façade I built was easier than facing the truth crawling inside me. The forbidden, cursed truth, the aphrodisiac potion had been dragged into the open.
A long silence stretched between us.
My heart hammered, no longer just with fear, but with the weight of what I had been denying, a confusion of dread and longing.
At last, I forced myself to speak.
I asked the question, clawing at my chest.
“Why did you think I was special from the moment I arrived?”
His gaze flickered to my bare wrist, the place my heirloom should have been.
“I think you know why,” Lorik murmured. “Tell me the real reason you want me to bend your mind. Tell me the truth, and I might just try it.”
My voice trembled. "I think I’m immune to mental magic. Please, try to bend my mind. Make me do whatever you want."
His hand lifted slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Kiss me,” he said.
The command wasn't loud, it was soft and dangerous.
His fingers pressed lightly against my cheek, the touch required for mind-bending and every muscle in my body locked.
My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe.
Because he wasn’t asking me to kiss him. He was commanding it.
And the worst, the most terrifying part, was that some deep, hidden part of me wanted to obey.
Not because of his magic. Not because of mind-bending. But because my soul leaned toward his as it recognized him. Then reality sliced through the want, cold, merciless.