I freeze and look at him. He’s done that a thousand times before, grabbing my arm or poking me in the shoulder or giving my hair a tug. Every touch is different now, laced with intent that I might be imagining—but I know I’m not.
As if he can tell, he lets go, his hand slipping away. “I haven’t told anyone,” he says. His voice is low, a little tormented. “And for what it’s worth, I’m still sorry.”
“I know,” I say, because I do.
He stares up at me, and the silence thickens between us.
But then his gaze shifts, and he looks past me. He swears under his breath, then shoves himself to stand at attention.
I think an officer has come to the forge, and I inwardly swear myself, because I’m the only worker left. But when I turn, it’s not an officer at all. It’s Tycho.
It’s so unexpected, and I nearly do a double take. He’s windblown and ragged like he rode hard to get here, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Instead of his usual black armor, he’s dressed in the same livery as Sephran, all gold and red, not a speck of green or black anywhere. No marks of Syhl Shallow at all. He’s dusty and dirty and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.
And despite all of it, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. My heart gives a hard thump to find him right in front of me. “Tycho,” I say, and my voice is hushed. Then I catch myself, remembering where we are. “My lord.”
He shakes his head. “Tycho. Always Tycho.”
My heart gives another tug, and I take a step toward him—butthen I remember why Sephran is behind me, and I nearly falter. “You are here.”
“I’m here,” Tycho says. His eyes are searching mine, skipping over my face, to my hair, and then down my body. “Jax,” he breathes. “You . . . ? you’ve changed so much.”
“I have changed?”
“Yeah. You’re—you’rewalking.” His eyes snap back to mine. “And you’re speaking Emberish!”
That makes me flush. “Not well. Not yet.”
Sephran gives me a gentle shove from behind. “Pretty well.”
Once, it would’ve made me smile. Today, it makes me stiffen.
“Welcome home,” he’s saying to Tycho. “Did Malin return with you?”
Tycho nods. “He’s a few hours behind, traveling with the king. They’ll arrive by sundown, but the king sent me ahead.”
Sephran claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll find you later, Jax. I’ll need to report to the barracks if the king is returning.” Before I can respond, he’s past Tycho, heading away. But he stops to look back at me.
He left you, he mouths.
I stiffen further, and it steals my ability to speak for a moment. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s already moved away. I watch his back as he goes.
“Jax.”
My eyes snap back to Tycho’s, and I have to shake off . . . ?whatever this is.
He’s frowning at me. “What’s wrong?” he says. When I don’t answer immediately, he shakeshimselfand says it again in Syssalah.
It’s so rare for me to hear it so fluently here, and I’m struck by a wave of homesickness I haven’t felt in weeks. Some of the tension slips out of my body.
“Nothing,” I say, and it’s such a relief to speak my own language. “Nothing.” I take another step forward, because I want to throw myarms around him and never let go. But then I remember everything he said the night before he left, and I stop myself.
Discretion.
I have to fight not to scowl. He’s right here in front of me. I should be leaping with joy.
“The king has returned?” I say. Suddenly, my heart pounds as I realize what this could mean. “With the royal family? Is Callyn here, too?” I desperately long for my friend. I could tell her about what happened with Sephran. I could ask for her advice.
Tycho shakes his head. “Just the king.” His voice goes quiet. “Many changes are coming. I have so much to tell you.” But his eyes are still searching my face, and they stop on the scars along my jaw.
