Everything we’d fought to protect.
So why did it feel like putting on clothes that no longer fit?
“The men will adapt,” I said finally.
Thane smiled. “And you?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. Out there, commanding had been simple. Clear orders, clear outcomes. Life or death. Victory or failure. Here, everything would be measured in subtleties I’d never mastered. Grace in movement. Beauty in stillness. The kind of perfection that served no tactical purpose.
The last of the cargo was being unloaded now. Weapons, supplies, a few trophies from defeated raiders. Evidence of what we’d accomplished. But already, I could see how small it would seem once we passed through the temple gates. Eight months of war reduced to a few crates and a captain’s report.
“Come,” Thane said. “Time to remind ourselves what we’re fighting for.”
He started up the stone steps that led from theharbor to the temple complex above. I followed, as I always did. But with each step, I felt the weight of returning—not to home, but to a role that had never quite fit.
Behind us, theIron Resolvecreaked gently at her moorings, already seeming like a memory of someone else’s life.
Thane’s chambers occupied the corner of the militant wing where two walls met in floor-to-ceiling windows. Below us, the training grounds stretched out in geometric precision—sand pits for wrestling, archery ranges, sparring circles marked in white stone. Even at this early hour, a few dedicated acolytes moved through their forms, bronze skin gleaming with sweat and morning light.
I accepted the cup of wine Thane offered and waited. This wasn’t a social call.
“Your bonding has been arranged,” he said without preamble.
I nodded. I’d known this was coming. Eight months of campaign meant eight months of delayed obligations. The militant Orders required their members to bond regularly—not just for personal fulfillment, but to demonstrate emotional discipline. To prove we could form connections without losing ourselves in them.
“From Korrath’s temple?” I asked.
“No.” Thane settled into his chair, wine cup balanced on his knee. “Cross-Order arrangement. Temple of Aerius has requested a militant partner for one of their scholars.”
That surprised me. Cross-Order bondings happened, but rarely. The different temples had their own customs, their own approaches to sacred partnership. Mixing them required careful negotiation.
“Diplomatic necessity,” Thane continued, reading my expression. “Relations between our Orders have been... strained since the Harvest Council meetings. Elder Myris suggested a bonding exchange might help smooth tensions.”
Politics. Of course. Even sacred bonds served the temple’s larger purposes.
“Tell me about him,” I said.
Thane lifted a scroll. “Kaelen of Aerius. Twenty-three years old, born on Aerius’s sister isle of Lyrian. Came to Eletheria five years ago to study in the great scriptorium.” He opened the folder, scanning notes. “Brilliant, according to all accounts. Specialized in ancient texts, comparative theology, historical analysis of bonding practices across different cultures.”
A scholar, then. I’d expected as much, but the specifics made my chest tighten. Ancient texts. Comparative theology. The kind of intellectual work that required the sort of mind I’d never possessed.
“Temperament?” I asked.
“Strong-willed. Independent. His mentors describe him as... questioning. Not rebellious, but not content to accept doctrine without examination.” Thane looked up from the scroll. “No prior bonding experience.”
That caught my attention. “None?”
“The scholars often delay such things. Too focused on their studies, apparently. This will be his first.”
I sipped my wine, thinking. A first bonding was always delicate, especially cross-Order. No established expectations, no practiced rhythms. Everything would need to be built from nothing.
“Any particular concerns?” I asked.
Thane set down the scroll. “Scholarly partners can be... complicated. They tend to overthink things. Analyze every flinch, every response. They approach bonds like academic exercises rather than lived experiences.”
I could see the difficulty. Bonds worked best when they flowed naturally, when both partners allowed themselves to be guided by instinct and connection rather than theory. Too much analysis could paralyze that process.
“His area of specialty might help,” Thane continued. “Bonding practices, historical precedents. He’ll understand the forms, at least.”
