Lioran looked back at me with a quick nod to show his gratitude. Then we both faced the Ankheg once more and watched as it began to dissolve. The chitinous armor softened and lost definition. The horrific mandibles blurred at the edges. Within seconds, the entire massive form was breaking apart into wisps of mist that began to move upward like smoke.
I moved without thinking, yanking one of the glass orbs from Lioran's pack, where he had laid it against a tree stump. My fingers found the activation rune carved into its surface, and I pressed hard. The orb flared to life in my hand, glowing, and the mist that had been the Ankheg reacted instantly, spiraling toward the glass orb and trapping itself within the transparent sphere until every trace of the Ankheg had been captured.
The glass grew warm against my palm as the magical seals activated, binding the creature inside.
I looked over at Lioran, who stood among the scattered ice and frost, breathing hard but victorious. His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I couldn't deny what I'd just witnessed.
Small he might be. Delicate in appearance, yes.
But weak? Never.
CHAPTER THIRTY
-LANCE-
The Hunt Trial
"That was impressive," I said as we continued into the Whispering Wilds, searching for our next quarry.
Lioran turned back to look at me. "You allowed me to slay the beast on my own." There was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity.
"Yes."
"You wanted me to prove myself."
I nodded. "I did."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds but then looked up at me again. "I appreciate the opportunity."
He was a strange man, to be certain. Most knights would have bristled at such a test, their pride wounded by the implication that their skills needed proving. They would have demanded to know why I'd held back, why I hadn't joined in immediately as any brother-in-arms should. Some might have taken offense at the perceived slight to their honor, interpreting my restraint as doubt in their abilities.
But Lioran did none of those things. Instead, he accepted my judgment with a grace that spoke of either supreme confidence or unusual humility. The lack of a wounded ego intrigued me almost as much as it troubled me. What manner of knight possessed such quiet self-assurance that he could endure what others might see as a challenge to their worthiness?
As I watched him, each step he took was sure and soundless, his attention drawn naturally to every rustle and shifting shadow that surrounded him. I should have admired his skill, but instead, I found myself watching him too closely.
The soft edges of his face, the delicate curve of his jawline, the way his lashes framed those too-large eyes. His beauty was unsettling.
“Stay alert,” I said, more brusquely than necessary, trying to shake off my thoughts. “The shadows shift here. Don’t let your guard down.”
“I won’t." His eyes faced forward, his tone calm and steady. No hint of fear—only quiet certainty.
It was I who needed a distraction—desperately. Something, anything, to steady myself and anchor my wandering thoughts before they strayed further into dangerous territory. I needed to stop noticing every characteristic about him that set my teeth on edge.
I shouldn't have given a damn that he was so small compared to me, shouldn't have cared that his frame was lean where mine was broad, delicate where mine was scarred and hardened by years of warfare. I shouldn't have noticed how his movements were graceful, how his waist was almost as small as a woman's.
But I fucking did notice. Every detail burned itself into my mind against my will, each observation adding another layer to the growing unease that had settled in my chest like poison.
I thought about the fact that now was the perfect opportunity to ask about Lioran's upbringing—to dig into the questions Arthur wanted to know: his past, his family, his beliefs.
Yet, I couldn't bring myself to do anything but walk. I didn't want to know about his upbringing. I didn't want to know another blasted thing about him! In fact, I wished this farce of a partnership had never been thrust upon me in the first place. Damn Arthur!
We continued walking, our boots crunching against the forest floor strewn with fallen leaves and broken twigs. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken tension and my own stubborn refusal to acknowledge whatever the hell was happening to me. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, watching the dappled shadows dance across the well-worn path as we moved deeper into the Whispering Wilds.
But the quiet was becoming unbearable. It pressed against my temples, amplifying every small sound—the rustle of Lioran's cloak, the soft whisper of his breathing, the gentle jingle of his sword belt. Each noise seemed magnified in the oppressive stillness, drawing my attention back to him despite my best efforts to ignore his presence entirely. In fact, the silence became more suffocating with each step we took.
Soon, the weight of it became too much for me to bear.
“Once, we tracked a dire wolf terrorizing a village,” I suddenly said, needing a reprieve from the quiet.
