Her breathing stuttered, but she didn't pull away. "It was a dream," he said firmly. "Not a prophecy. Not a vision. Just a dream."
"But what if it wasn't?" she choked out. "What if that's the truth underneath all this? What if the Council was right, and I'm not just a threat, I'm the end?" Riven leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "You're not," he said. "I don't care what you saw. You're not that." Mae trembled harder. Her hands were clenched in the blanket like her grip might keep the world from unraveling. "You didn't see it," she whispered. "I felt good in it. Like I wanted to. That's what scared me most."
Riven's voice went soft. "That part?" he said. "That's not power. That's fear. Your mind's way of turning every what-if into a weapon against you." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. "And I'm not going to let it win. Not while I'm here." Mae didn't speak. But slowly, she leaned forward, pressing herself onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, holding her like she was something fragile and infinitely valuable. "I've got you," he whispered. And Mae, for the first time since the council branded her, believed him. Mae's breathing was still uneven, her body tense in his arms, but she hadn't pulled away.
She clung to Riven like he was the only solid thing in a world trying to fall apart again.
And he didn't let go. He just held her, steady and quiet, like nothing else mattered. Then, Riven leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Not rushed. Not romantic. Safe. Here. "You're okay," he murmured into her hair. "You're here. I'm here. We're both okay." Mae closed her eyes, the weight of those words settling into her chest. Not because she believed them fully. But because he did.
And that was enough, for now. "I'm sorry," she whispered against him. "Don't be," Riven said softly. "Not for feeling. Not for dreaming. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I was so scared," she breathed. He rested his cheek on her head, still holding her close. "I know," he said. "But you're not alone in this. You've got me. And Ashar. And even the assholes who'd never admit they care." Mae gave a shaky laugh, and it cracked something loose in the tension gripping her body.
The moment softened. The night settled again. And wrapped in Riven's arms, Mae finally, finally, let herself believe she might not break everything she touched. The stars had shifted by the time Mae's breath settled. The sky darkened into its deepest blue, stars sharper, closer somehow, like the universe itself was leaning in to listen.
Riven was still holding her. Not because she needed it now, but because she wanted it.
And he didn't let go. Not when her fingers curled against his chest. Not when her face tilted up, eyes searching for his in the quiet.
He didn't ask. He knew. So, when she leaned up, slow, almost shy, and kissed him, he met her halfway. This kiss wasn't desperate. It was slow. Soft. Reverent. And then another. Deeper. Then another, as something inside both shifted. That tether between them pulled tight, hot with tension and trust and the kind of gravity that couldn't be faked. Mae gasped softly as Riven's hand moved to her waist, drawing her closer. Her body responded before her mind could catch up, tilting toward his like the space between them didn't make sense anymore. Her hands found his shirt.
His breath caught when she touched his skin. And then, Riven's fingers slipped just beneath the edge of hers, starting to lift it slowly, carefully, like she was something to him. But just as her shirt rose above her ribs, Mae's hand caught his wrist. Her eyes, wide, vulnerable, met his. "Wait." He froze immediately, concern replacing heat in a blink. "Do you want me to stop?" She looked away, the smallest amount of trembling in her voice. "I've never done, this. Not with anyone." Riven paused. Everything softened. The night, the air, the pull of the stars.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. "Okay," he said quietly. "Then we stop." Mae blinked up at him, unsure what she expected, disappointment? Frustration? But there was none of that in his expression. Just warmth. Respect. And something deep. "You don't owe me anything," he added. "Not for holding you. Not for kissing you. Not for seeing you." Her throat tightened. "But I want to. I do. I think." Riven smiled gently.
"And when you know, not think? I'll still be right here." Mae nodded slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek, not from fear this time. But from relief. They lay back down together under the stars, this time even closer. Not in hunger, but in trust. And in the quiet warmth of Riven's arms, Mae felt something new take root. Not power. Not prophecy. But the start of choice.