Ember spots us and waves, her whole face lighting up. She hurries over, pack bouncing against her shoulders, and something in my chest does an irritating twist.
I shove it down and focus on assessment. New boots—leather still stiff, not broken in. Jacket zipped too high. Pack bulging in all the wrong places.
She stops in front of us, slightly breathless.
“Hi, there! Sorry! I’m not late, am I? Mom took forever saying goodbye, and then I couldn’t find my—”
“You’re fine,” Mara says. “Luke’s just been standing here radiating disapproval at the entire world. Don’t take it personally.”
Those wide, deep brown eyes flick to me. Uncertain. “I’m ready to go. I think?”
The scent hits me then. Something I didn’t notice from a distance—lavender and wood smoke, underlaid with the electric-sharp tang of magic. My dragon lifts its head, interested.
I shut that down fast.
“Open your pack,” I say.
Her smile falters. “What?”
“Your pack. Open it.”
Pink floods her cheeks, but she unslings the bag and unzips it. I lean in—too close, I register the warmth coming off her skin—and look inside.
Books. Three thick paperbacks with cracked spines. A sketchpad. Pens. Trail mix.
No extra ammunition. No backup comm. No flares.
Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “Where’s your gear?”
“I—” She glances at Mara, then back. “I have my gear. In the side pockets. The summoning components, the magical detection equipment—”
“Ammunition.”
“Oh.” Her voice drops to almost nothing. “I thought… since I’m mostly support, I wouldn’t need as much, and I wanted something to read on the plane—”
“This isn’t a vacation.” The words come out harder than I mean them to. She flinches, and I catch the flash of hurt in her eyes before she looks away.
My dragon snarls at me.
Idiot.
“To be fair,” Mara says carefully, “we’ve got plenty of ammo. And the flight’s thirteen hours. Books aren’t a war crime, Luke.”
She’s right. Technically. Ember’s role is magical sensitivity—detecting the residual energy signatures from her visions, checking if the Syndicate’s ritual damaged the containment. But that’s not the point. The point is, she doesn’t think like someone whose survival might depend on what’s in that pack.
She thinks like a kid.
Goddammit. I didn’t sign up for fucking babysitting.
“Fine.” I force the edge out of my voice. “Keep the books. But you carry an extra comm and medical kit. I’ll have them ready before we board.”
Ember nods quickly, still not meeting my eyes.
“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry, I should have—”
“Save it.” I turn away before I can see what my words do to her face. There’s a twisting sensation behind my ribs that I don’t have time for.
“Don’t mind him,” Mara says behind me. “He’s like this with everyone. Last week, he yelled at me for packing snacks.”
