OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: OF VOWS THAT HELD, FEARS THAT SPLINTERED,

I bit my lower lip.

"They're not here right now," he added. His tone stayed calm, but the weight behind it pressed heavy. "Because they're out there—searching. Running simulations. Calling in every favor. Cracking into sealed networks. Looking for ways to save Khaizer Dylan."

My throat burned, tight with fear I didn't want to name—fear of losing him, fear of being right.

"What if we can't?" The words slipped out smaller than I wanted them to. "What if Lucem is stronger than all of us? What if Lyle gives you that absolute order, and you—" My voice broke, and I swallowed hard. "I can't lose him, Xythe.""

He didn't flinch. Didn't so much as blink.

"I'm not killing him, Ari," he said again—each word sharpened, deliberate, like he needed me to know it. "A hundred times if I have to. Even if Lyle orders it. Even if the Court decides otherwise."

A breath. Nothing more.

"I'm on your side. Always." His voice sank lower, heavy and certain. "If you want to save him, we will. And if you want me to lead the way... we'll burn the world down together to make it happen."

Something in me cracked then—not in a painful way, but just enough to let me breathe again. Like the fear had finally loosened its grip around my lungs.

And then, without warning, Xythe pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped firm around my shoulders—steady, grounding. Like gravity I didn't realize I needed until it was holding me in place.

"Again, Ari," he murmured, his arms steady around my shoulders. "I'll always be on your side. And I'll keep reminding you... as many times as it takes."

I broke. Tears slipped free before I could stop them, hot against my skin. My hands curled tight into his hoodie, clutching like it was the only thing holding me up. And for the first time since last night—I let myself fall apart.

"I'm scared," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "Scared we might not be able to save him. That I might lose him before we even get the chance."

He rubbed a hand along my back—steady, slow, like he was smoothing the edges of a storm I couldn't contain.

"You won't lose him," he said, voice soft but unwavering, arms still steady around me. "Not while I'm still here... not while I'm standing. Not if I can help it."

And something about the way he said it—like it was a vow, not a promise—made me believe him.

His gaze lingered on mine, steady and quiet, as if trying to carve reassurance into the space between us. I could feel the weight of every unspoken word, every shadow of the past we'd carried, pressing into the warmth of his presence.

"Just... trust me," he whispered, the faintest tremor betraying how much of himself he was leaving here with me. And against all the fear and doubt, I wanted to.

Even if only a little.

***

I returned to my room twenty minutes later, a little more grounded than I'd been when I left.

When I opened the door, he was still asleep—peaceful, curled up like nothing had ever hurt him. And for a second, I wondered if Keryn had slipped something in that soup to make him sleep like forever..

I climbed up onto the bed and curled beside him again and hugged him.

That's when he stirred. And for one panicked heartbeat, I braced myself—terrified I'd meet someone else's eyes staring back at me.

But it was him.

"Riyee?" His voice was sleepy, surprised. But warm.

I didn't let go. I just hugged him tighter.

"Morning, love," I whispered, tilting my head to smile at him.

He smiled back, eyes still heavy with sleep, and kissed the top of my head. "Morning, love."

"How was your sleep? Any weird dreams?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No weird dreams." Then that familiar grin crept onto his face. "Guess I'll be sneaking more often here in Eclipsa."

But no weird dreams didn't mean safe. Lucem wasn't gone. Sometimes it waited in silence—watching from the inside.

I smacked his arm lightly. "Don't. You'll fall off something and break a limb. Besides, Lyle already said you can stay here if you want."

A faint frown tugged at his face. "What happened to Ardent Court Only—Protocols Strictly Enforced?"

I laughed. "We are the Court. We bend rules. Rewrite them. Burn them if we have to."

He didn't reply right away. He just pulled me closer.

"Do you have council work today?" I asked. "It's Saturday, but Ber-months are starting. Jodie and Xylia said you've got pending board meetings. High Chamber petitions too."

KD sighed, annoyed. "Nah, it's fine. It's Saturday. Council work means no girlfriend hugging you, and I'm not okay with that."

I snorted. "You're the President. Suffer the consequences."

"Should I resign?"

My eyes widened. "Don't you dare! You love freezing people with a glare and being a smug control freak. You'd be miserable."

Then I grinned. "Besides, you're not KD if you're not the president."

He laughed. That real, warm laugh he only gives when he's completely at ease—when it's just us, no past, no Court, no Lucem, no pulse threads or nightmares waiting in the dark.

"Then," he said, still smiling, "I'll just be your KD."

And I held onto that. Quietly. Fiercely.

Because I didn't know what tomorrow held. But right now, I had him—warm, alive, and still mine.