“Even if—”
“Even if.” I finally look at him, meeting molten gold eyes that mirror my own conflict. “Her choice. Her bond. Her decision.”
“I hate it.”
“So do I.”
Bob materializes between us, his shadowy form rigid with disapproval. He shifts between Torric and me like he’s trying to decide which of us needs the lecture more.
“Yeah, yeah,” Torric mutters. “We’re terrible. We know.”
Bob turns toward me specifically. His edges sharpen.
“I wasn’t going to kill him,” I say.
The shadow’s posture suggests he doesn’t believe me.
“Fine. I wanted to. But I stopped.”
Bob’s form flickers—satisfaction, maybe. Patricia appears next, notebook blazing as she underlines something emphatically, then adds a dramatic asterisk that somehow feels judgmental.
“Camp’s waking up,” Torric says, pushing off the tree. “We should—”
“Give me a minute.”
He studies me with the kind of scrutiny only a twin can manage. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Someone has to.”
“That’s what Malrik’s for.” But he doesn’t leave. Just stands there, heat signature steady and familiar. “She didn’t forgive him, you know. She just didn’t let us become murderers.”
The distinction matters. I’m not sure why, but it does.
“Come on,” Torric says finally. “Let’s go hear Kieran explain why we shouldn’t kill the traitor.”
The clearing sits at camp’s northern edge. Dawn light filters through leaves overhead, casting everything in gray and gold.
Everyone’s here. Malrik leans against a boulder, silver eyes unreadable. Finn’s propped against a tree, arms crossed, his usual mischief replaced by something colder. Kaia stands slightly apart, Mouse pressed against her leg, her shadows forming defensive patterns around her boots.
She looks exhausted. Dark circles beneath violet eyes. Jaw set with determination that makes my chest ache.
Kieran stands in the center, golden eyes landing on all of us with ancient weariness. The sanctuary magic clings to him, making the air shimmer.
Darian kneels at the clearing’s edge. Bound. Ashen. Still somehow managing to look composed.
His storm-gray eyes find Kaia immediately.
Cold bites through my veins before I can stop it.
“Tell me,” Kieran says.
No one speaks.
“I found him kneeling at her feet,” I say finally.
Kieran’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Did he threaten anyone?”
“No,” Kaia says. Her voice is steady but strained. “He confessed. Everything. Then waited for judgment.”
