For a moment, neither moved. His hands were warm through her sleeves, his chest close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. The last time they'd been this close, his lips had been on hers, breaking Malus's compulsion with desperate intensity.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't—" she started.
"Are you hurt?" he asked at the same time.
They both stopped. His hands were still on her arms, and she could see something shift in his expression—a flicker of uncertainty that looked strange on someone usuallyso composed.
He released her and stepped back, the careful distance feeling more significant than it should.
"How are the preparations going?" she asked, defaulting to safe ground.
"Well enough." His tone was neutral, controlled. "Everyone's gathered what they need. Sian's been practicing corruption cleansing. Halian's reviewing ward construction theory."
"And you?"
"I was just heading to the vaults. To retrieve the star metal weapons." He paused, something crossing his face that she couldn't read. "Would you like to come? You should see what we'll be working with."
She nodded, curious despite the awkwardness. He turned and led the way through corridors she hadn't explored before, their footsteps echoing off crystalline walls that gradually gave way to stone as they descended.
"I didn't think the Star Court had underground spaces," she said, trying to fill the weighted silence.
"Even the brightest lights cast shadows," Arion replied. "We keep our dangerous things below."
There was something in his tone that made her want to ask more, but they'd arrived at a heavy door marked with symbols that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Arion pressed his hand against the wood, and his light flared briefly. The symbols responded, glowing white before the door swung open silently.
The vault beyond was small, circular, with walls of polished white stone. In the center stood a display holding four weapons that seemed to pull at her attention. They gleamed with an inner light that had nothing to do with Arion's magic—something cold and distant, like starlight on winter snow.
Two swords, long and elegant, their blades inscribed with patterns etched into their surfaces, a glaive with a wicked curved blade that seemed to slice the air around it, and a pair of twin daggers, smaller but no less mesmerizing, their handles wrapped in what looked like silver wire.
"Star metal," Arion said quietly. "Forged with fragments of metal that fell from beyond the sky. The Unseelie can’t tolerate even the smallest amount, it burns them, disrupts their very essence."
Briar stepped closer, drawn despite herself. The weapons were beautiful in an alien way, but there was something else that caught her eye. Set into the wall above the displaywas a pendant—a starburst design with fragments of the same strange metal woven throughout.
"What's that?" she asked.
Arion followed her gaze. "A protection amulet. One of the last made before we ran out of sufficient star metal for forging." He moved to retrieve the weapons, carefully lifting each one. "It was meant for royalty, but never worn. Star metal is... uncomfortable for most fae. We can wield it briefly, but prolonged contact burns."
"Then how—"
"We'll manage," he said, but she noticed he was already wrapping the sword hilts in thick leather. "The corruption is far worse than a little discomfort."
He reached for the pendant last, hesitating before taking it from its setting. Tiny crystals embedded in the metal caught the light, throwing prismatic patterns across the walls.
"Here," he said, turning to her with it in his outstretched hand. "You should wear this."
"I couldn't—you just said it was meant for royalty."
"You're the only one of us who can wear it without pain." His expression was serious. "You're not fae, even if fae magic lives inside you. The star metal won't burn you the way it would us. And you'll need every protection we can offer."
She took it carefully, surprised by how light it was. The metal felt cool against her palm, almost pleasant, with none of the burning he'd described.
"Let me," Arion said, moving behind her to fasten the chain around her neck.
His fingers brushed her nape as he worked the clasp, and she felt him pause, his breath warm against her hair. The touch lingered longer than necessary, and when he spoke, his voice had dropped to something lower than she was used to from him.
"About what happened that night at the border—"
