The Wisteria Accond

Chapter Twelve

Morning comes with the same steady rhythm it always does, the soft hum of soldiers waking, the clatter of armor and weapons, the scent of bread baking and coffee brewing. I move through it like I always have, part of the beat of life within these walls. Today, though, there's an itch under my skin, a tugging sensation that pulls my attention toward the forest outside.

I find Clara and the others in the courtyard. Jonas is sitting on a low wall, his broad frame hunched over as he sharpens his blade. His sun-bleached hair sticks up at odd angles, and there's a smudge of dirt across his cheek that he hasn't bothered to wipe away. Mira stands nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp blue eyes squinting against the morning sun. Clara leans against the wall beside Jonas, her braid draped over her shoulder, her expression bright with some half-joked insult she's hurling his way.

"You're gonna grind that sword down to nothing," Clara says, nudging Jonas with her foot.

He grins up at her, not pausing in his task. "Better dull than broken, don't you think?"

Mira rolls her eyes. "Maybe if you'd stop swinging it around like a lunatic, it wouldn't break in the first place."

I drift closer, caught up in the easy rhythm of their banter. It's comfortable, predictable. I smile as Jonas turns his grin on me. "Morning, Kiera. What's the plan today?"

I shrug. "Nothing much. Just the usual patrol."

Clara snorts. "More like a stroll. The way the city's been locked down lately, we're more likely to trip over a beggar than anything dangerous."

I nod along, pretending to listen, but my mind is elsewhere. I've been feeling the pull for days now, a growing need to return to the forest. It's been almost two weeks since I last saw Ashen. Two weeks since I felt his eyes on me, saw them shift from gray to blue like storm clouds rolling in.

"What's got you so distracted?" Mira asks, eyeing me. "You've been somewhere else all morning."

I shake my head. "Just thinking. I guess I could use a break from the routine."

"You and me both," Jonas mutters. "Feels like we've been stuck on repeat lately."

I nod again, but the words barely register. My decision is already made. I'm going back out there, to see Ashen again. I need answers, more than ever now. And, perhaps, I just need to see him, to know he's still there.

I slip away quietly, under the guise of running an errand. None of them think twice about it; they're too caught up in their own routines. The world outside the walls unfolds like a secret as I step into the dense green of the forest, the air cooler here, shadows playing on the path before me. My heart quickens as I near the clearing where we usually meet, my thoughts a jumble of anticipation and something more—something I can't quite name.

When I reach the spot, Ashen is already there. But something's different about him today. His posture is more rigid, his eyes—normally a swirling blend of shades—are fixed in a cold, flat gray. He's staring at the ground, and I can feel the tension radiating from him even from a distance.

I take a step closer, careful not to startle him, but he looks up suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine. His gaze is like a blade slicing through the air between us, and before I can take another breath, he's right there in front of me. He moves so fast, closing the distance until there's almost no space between us. My heart jumps in my chest.

"Thirteen days," he says, his voice low and taut, like he's been holding it in for too long. "Thirteen days and not a sign of you."

I blink, taken aback. His face is so close I can see the small scar near his temple, the way his hair falls in an unruly mess around his eyes. There's a storm behind those eyes now, and I'm not sure if it's anger or something else. "I didn't realize you were counting," I manage to say, though my voice doesn't sound quite like my own.

He doesn't step back. If anything, he leans in closer, his expression unreadable. "Where were you?" His tone isn't harsh, but it's firm, demanding an answer.

"I had things to take care of," I reply, my breath hitching a little. "We were attacked. There were injuries—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I heard."

I frown. "Then why ask?"

His lips press together, his gaze searching mine. "Because I need to hear it from you." He says it like it's obvious, like it's the only thing that makes sense.

I'm not sure what he's looking for—truth, assurance, something else entirely—but I can't look away. His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. There's a heat between us, a charged silence that feels like it could ignite at any second.

"You've asked me so many things," he continues, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "About the Nightborne, about the eyes, about everything. But you never answer why you keep coming back."

His words hang between us, heavy and full of weight I don't quite understand. I can feel the pull, that same inexplicable pull that's brought me here again and again. I could tell him it's just curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, but it wouldn't be true—not entirely.

I swallow, the words sticking in my throat. "I... don't know," I admit, and it feels like a confession.

He tilts his head, still studying me with that unnerving intensity. "That's not good enough, Kiera."

My name sounds different on his lips—sharp, pointed. I flinch slightly but hold my ground. "What do you want from me, Ashen?" I ask, trying to match his intensity, to dig into whatever game he's playing.

"What do I want?" He huffs a laugh, but it's humorless, his eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable. "Maybe I want to know what you see when you look at me. When you're not asking questions or prying into things you don't understand."

My heart beats faster, and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. His eyes, though still that stormy gray, seem to darken, pulling me deeper, making me want to look away and keep staring all at once. "I don't—" I start, but he doesn't let me finish.

"Think carefully," he says, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. "Because every time you come here, you risk more than just your safety."

There's an undercurrent to his words, a warning or maybe something more. My pulse thrums in my ears, and I can feel his presence like a weight pressing down on me, making it hard to think straight. "Why do you care?" I whisper back, not even sure what I'm asking anymore.

His gaze flicks over my face, lingering on my eyes, my lips. "Because I do," he says simply, but there's a gravity to it that steals the air from my lungs. "And that should scare you, Kiera."

I should be scared. I know I should be. But instead, all I feel is this pull between us tightening, like a thread drawing us closer together, no matter how much sense it doesn't make.

"Your turn," I say, needing to break the tension before it swallows me whole. "You promised you'd answer if I did."

His lips quirk, but there's no humor in his eyes. "Ask your question," he says, his voice a low rumble.

I search his face, trying to find the right question, something that will get me closer to understanding him. "Your eyes," I finally say. "They change with your emotions, don't they?"

For a moment, he doesn't answer. His gaze shifts slightly, a flicker of something softer there. Then he nods, almost imperceptibly. "They do."

I exhale slowly. "And the gray... what does it mean?"

He smirks, but it's faint, and there's a bitterness to it. "You think I'll give up all my secrets that easily?"

I hold his gaze, unyielding. "You promised."

He sighs, and for the first time, he seems to relax, just a fraction. "Gray is... a shield," he says carefully. "A way to hide what I'm really feeling."

I nod, trying to piece it together, to figure out what it means in the context of everything else I've seen. "And today? What are you hiding?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he steps back, his eyes never leaving mine. "That, Kiera," he says softly, "is for you to figure out."

And then he turns, his form blurring into the trees, leaving me with more questions than answers.