Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter~6

Each step up the winding staircase feels precarious. The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft echo of my boots against the cold stone. The tower is quiet, and the deeper I climb, the more the restlessness inside me churns, pressing against my ribs. I should've found him by now. The sparring room was my first thought, but he wasn't there. His room seemed like the next logical place, so I climbed higher, each step bringing me closer to him—or to whatever version of him I'll find today.

When I reach the door, I hesitate. Why do I feel nervous? This shouldn't feel so foreign. I've been here before. I've walked these halls countless times, seen him in every possible state of mind and situation. But today is different.

I lift my hand to knock, but before I can, a strong hand spins me around. My back slams into the door with a muffled thud, and his arm locks across my neck, pinning me in place. Panic flares, brief but sharp, until I realize who it is.

Xaden.

My pulse spikes at the suddenness of it, but then the tension melts away as I catch sight of him. He's just emerged from the bathing chambers, his dark hair still damp, water dripping onto the skin of his chest. The towel wrapped around his waist clings to his form, hanging low enough that I can see the faint outline of his V-line, the curve of his hips. For a moment, my breath catches in my throat.

I swallow hard, forcing my mind to focus.

"Gods, Nora, what are you doing here?" His voice is low, rough with surprise, but there's something else there—something harder to pin down. He releases the pressure around my neck, but doesn't pull away completely. His arm remains, a weight on me that feels both familiar and alien at the same time.

I blink, trying to steady my breath. "I—I just came to talk about today. That's all." My voice comes out shaky, and I curse myself for it. He's never made me nervous before, but there's something about him today. Something different.

Xaden doesn't move, doesn't speak right away. His dark eyes scan my face, his gaze unreadable. The silence stretches, long enough for me to begin questioning myself. What am I doing here?

Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, something between exasperation and amusement, and before I can react, he grabs my wrist. With one swift motion, he spins me around again and pushes open the door. We're inside before I can even process it, and the lock clicks sharply behind us.

The room is dim, the only light coming from the crackling fire in the hearth. It's warm, comforting, but the tension in my chest only tightens as I watch him move with casual ease across the space, eyes never leaving me.

Xaden leans against the table, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk of his. "Talk? About what? You don't just show up here to talk, Nora. Not when you could be out." His gaze flickers toward the door, then back to me, as if he's waiting for me to reveal something.

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to look anywhere but at him. "If I wanted to talk, I would've done it outside. But you're making it impossible for me to focus on anything but you standing there, practically naked."

He raises an eyebrow. "Go put some clothes on, then."

I sigh, though it's more of a plea than a command. It's hard to focus on anything else when he's standing so close, his presence pressing against me like a force I can't escape.

He doesn't move immediately, just looks at me, the smirk gone now, replaced by something more inscrutable. "Fine," he says after a beat, stepping back toward his wardrobe. "I'll be right back."

I hold my breath as he walks away, trying to calm the nerves that feel like they're getting the better of me. It's not like I haven't seen him before. It's not like we haven't... done things before. But today? Today feels different.

When he reappears in a loose tunic and trousers, the familiar sight of him unsettles me more than it should. He looks like the Xaden I know, but there's a weight to his demeanor now, a heaviness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You know," he says, his voice breaking the silence as he watches me closely, "I'm surprised you're not out celebrating, or at least distracting yourself with a first-year. Isn't that what most of the others do when they've got some time off?"

I blink, caught off guard. "And what would you know about that?" The words come out sharper than I intend, though I know there's no real heat behind them. It's more of a reflex, a way to protect myself from whatever this is—whatever is simmering beneath the surface between us.

He steps closer again, his posture casual, but his eyes never leave mine. "I know more than you think," he murmurs, his voice dipping low.

Before I can respond, he lowers his voice further, standing just a breath away. The heat between us is almost suffocating now. "In fact," he continues, his words slow, deliberate, "you're exactly who I want in the meeting tonight."

The sudden shift in topic throws me off balance. "What meeting?"

Xaden's lips quirk into a knowing smile, as if he's been waiting for me to ask. "I'm holding a meeting with the children of the relic tonight," he says, his tone steady, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "You've heard of it, I'm sure. I'm inviting you to join us."

"Children of the relic?" I repeat, my brow furrowing. "That's against the rules you can't"

He tilts his head, his expression shifting to something darker, more serious. " you're not the only one carrying a legacy, Nora. We're the ones who've lost everything—parents, families, homes. We bear the relics of our pasts, the marks of what we've had to survive."

I feel his words settle over me like a weight, heavy and unexpected. The thought of being surrounded by others who understand, who've experienced loss and survival in ways no one else could imagine, tugs at something deep inside me. The offer is too tempting, and for a moment, I'm almost afraid to admit it.

"So it's basically the 'dead parents club,' then?" I try to joke, though the words sound hollow even to me.

Xaden's expression softens, but only for a second. "Something like that. But it's more than just loss, Nora. It's about survival. About what we do with the pieces we've been left with."

I chew on his words for a moment, then look up at him, unsure of what I'm feeling. Maybe it's the loneliness I've been carrying, or maybe it's the rawness in his voice that calls to something buried deep within me.

"Alright," I say, the word slipping out before I can think better of it. "I'll come."

Xaden's smirk returns, this time more genuine, and I can see the approval in his eyes. "Good. I knew you would."

I turn toward the door, my hand hovering over the handle, but Xaden's voice stops me.

"One more thing," he says, his tone casual but with a subtle edge. " You can not be seen or you will be followed."

I glance back at him, the weight of his words hanging between us. "I can handle it," I mutter, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince—him or myself.