I blinked. “Sorry. Brain’s not working.”
“Clearly.” But Shaelith’s smile softened her face, made her look younger. Less like she was mentally evaluating nine ways to disembowel someone. “Yes. Brynelle is my wife.”
The way she saidmy wife—like Brynelle was a weapon and a wonder and the best damn thing that had ever happened to her—made something crack in my chest.
Because that’s how Navaire used to talk about me. That same bone-deep certainty. That same impossible pride.
Eilrys smiled. “They’re disgustingly perfect together.”
“We’re not disgustingly anything,” Shaelith protested, but her cheeks had taken on the faintest hint of colour. “We’re a perfectly normal amount of in love.”
“You literally threatened to fight the sun because it was too bright for Brynelle’s hangover.”
“The sun had it coming.”
I couldn’t help it, a laugh bubbled up, rusty and broken but real.
It died as quickly as it came, reality reasserting itself. “Those people in the garden,” I said, setting the empty glass aside. “They knew I crossed the Veil. They were looking for my children specifically. How?”
Shaelith’s expression shuttered. “We’re still investigating?—”
“Bullshit.” The word came out flat, hard. “You know something. Maybe not everything, but something.”
“Isara—”
“They said my scent matched what they found at the Veil.” I pushed myself forward in the chair, ignoring the way the room swayed. “They mentioned Ashterion by name. They weren’t random attackers, they were sent. With purpose. With information.” I fixed Shaelith with a look that demanded truth. “So, I’ll ask again. How did they know?”
Eilrys and Shaelith exchanged another one of those looks.
“The Veil,” Shaelith said. “It leaves traces. When someone crosses, especially someone who survives the way you did, it creates... ripples. Disturbances in the magic.”
“Varyth mentioned that.”
“Ashterion has resources.” Shaelith’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “Eyes everywhere. It’s possible he sensed the crossing and decided to investigate.”
The explanation was smooth, practiced. Reasonable.
And absolute horseshit.
They weren’t lying. But they weren’t telling me everything either. The way Shaelith’s gaze slid fractionally to the left when she mentioned tracking. The way Eilrys’ hands had tensed in her lap. These were tells I’d learned to read in my old life, in courts where survival meant knowing when people were feeding you selected truths.
But I kept my mouth shut. Tucked the knowledge away.
If they wouldn’t share with me, I wouldn’t share with them. The fire, the way it had felt so right pouring out of me, the strange sense of recognition when it had manifested? All of that stayed locked behind my teeth.
“What now?” I asked instead, letting exhaustion bleed into my voice. Let them think I was too tired to press. “You train me not to accidentally immolate people?”
“Pretty much.” Shaelith’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Brynelle will help with control, I’ll work on combatapplications. Between us, we’ll make sure you can defend yourself without levelling half the countryside.”
“Assuming I don’t pass out again.”
“You won’t.” Eilrys’ certainty was absolute. “That was your first time manifesting real power. Your body wasn’t ready, didn’t know how to regulate the flow. It gets easier. More natural.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Something flickered across Eilrys’ face, memory, maybe pain. “I knew someone who manifested exceptionally powerful magic when he was young. Nearly took out half a classroom when he did. He had… difficulty with it.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Took him time to learn control. But he did learn. You will too.”
I studied Eilrys as she poured me another glass, the way she moved with that particular brand of grace that came from knowing exactly how dangerous you were and choosing not to prove it. An elegant lethality that made you want to both befriend her and never, ever cross her.
