Just quiet acceptance and something that looks dangerously close to regret.
Kieran exhales slowly. The sound carries centuries of weariness. “Bind him. North edge of camp. We’ll deal with this at first light.”
His tone leaves no room for argument.
Not execution.
Interrogation.
Torric moves forward, grabbing Darian by the arm with barely restrained violence. Darian doesn’t resist. Doesn’t fight. He lets Torric haul him to his feet, Aspen’s blade still pressed to his throat until the last possible second.
As they drag him away, Darian’s voice cuts through the tension. Quiet but clear.
“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
Finn mutters, standing close—“Either brave or staggeringly stupid.”
“Both,” Malrik says from my other side.
We watch Torric and Aspen drag Darian away, and I’m not sure how I feel watching him go without a fight.
No one speaks.
Bob positions himself at my feet, shaking what might be a finger at me. Possibly just vibrating with disapproval.
I want to explain. To justify. To make them understand something I don’t even understand myself.
But the words won’t come.
Malrik looks at both of us—something knowing in his expression—then steps away into the shadows.
“Get some rest,” Kieran says quietly. Voice gentler now. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
They leave one by one, until it’s just me and Finn and the dying embers.
Mouse materializes beside me. Solid. Warm.
Finn lingers near the bedroll, hands shoved in his pockets. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask questions I can’t answer.
“Stay?” I ask quietly, looking at him.
His expression softens. “Yeah, Trouble. I’ll stay.”
“I didn’t forgive him,” I say quietly. “I just didn’t let them kill him.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “What’s the difference?”
I don’t have an answer.
He nods. Like he expected that.
“There’s room,” I whisper.
He hesitates—just for a breath—then lies down beside me.
“Thank you. For staying.”
“Always, Trouble.”
