“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
He hums, low and unreadable. “Is it trust?”
I glance away, suddenly needing the forest more than the conversation. “It’s survival.”
A beat of silence.
Then, softer: “For what it’s worth… I understand what it means to be touched less.”
That stops me. Not fully, but enough to hear the edge under his voice.
We walk in silence for a while, the Ether curling lazily around my ankles again—like it’s watching both of us now.
“So what happened to me back there?” I ask finally. “At the well.
"I don't fully know," he says, and I can tell he's choosing his words carefully. Not lying, but not telling me everything either.
I file that away for later and try a different approach.
"You told all of the guys what they were. What are you?"
He's quiet for so long I think he might not answer. Then: "A Feeder."
"And that's...?"
His jaw ticks, just slightly. "Nothing you need to worry about."
The dismissal in his tone makes something hot and sharp rise in my chest. "I know what it feels like to be treated like I'm less," I say, stopping abruptly. "I won't do that to someone else. So try again."
He turns to face me fully, silver eyes searching my expression like he's trying to solve a puzzle. After a long moment, he exhales.
"Feeders survive off energy. Magic, emotion, life force—it depends on the individual. We're not..." He pauses, choosing his words. "We're not always respected. Some see us as parasitic. Dangerous. Necessary, but barely tolerated."
The words land like stones in my stomach. "That's why they don't respect you."
"Yes."
"That's why they sent you."
"Yes."
I study his face—the careful mask, the controlled expression that doesn't quite hide the years of dealing with being seen as less than. "And yet... you volunteered."
"I did."
"Why?"
His mouth curves into something that might be a smile if it reached his eyes. "Just like I told you—I thought you were going to be a problem."
I cross my arms, not buying it. "And why did you really volunteer?"
This time his expression shifts, becomes something more honest. "Because I needed to see you for myself."
I don't answer him. Just start walking again, faster this time, the Ether swirling around my feet like it's annoyed on my behalf.
Behind us, maybe ten paces back, I can hear Stellan following. Not trying to catch up, not trying to disappear either. Just... there. When I glance back, he's watching with that unreadable expression of his, like he knows exactly what conversation just happened and finds it mildly entertaining.
"The hierarchy," I say after another stretch of silence. "It's based on power?"
