“I don’t know where this is going between us,” Darian said quietly. “I’m not asking for more than tonight. I just want you to know, I like you and would like hang out more. I’m not in the habit of pretending otherwise.”
Thaelyn turned to Darian. His expression was open, earnest in a way that disarmed her more than his flirtation ever had.
“You’re becoming dangerous, Mr. Vale and I am having a good time,” she teased, smiling faintly.
“I’ll take that as encouragement.”
They fell silent. The night stretched around them, vast and full of unseen wings. Thaelyn lifted her goblet, finishing the last swallow of wine. The taste lingered, rich and sweet. Darian’s fingers brushed hers, idle and unhurried. The fire burned low, and the music was fading into the wind's hum.
Thaelyn leaned her shoulder lightly against his, her eyes following the slow drift of embers into the sky. The stars pulsed above, distant and merciless. For a moment, she let herself simply exist, warm, breathing, unguarded. Beneath it all, there was the awareness of something watching, coiled in the dark.
Thaelyn walked carefully toward the path to her dorm. She was still flushed from wine and firelight. The echo of Darian’s laughter clung to her. It had been too easy to be warm beside him, too easy to forget why she’d come to Asgar. She was here to prove herself.
The path slipped under a low rock arch. The lanterns there had burned to an ember. She let her eyes adjust. Then the air changed.
“Enjoy your celebration, initiate.” Thorne’s voice came from the dark ahead. Not loud, but certain.
Thaelyn straightened. “What are you doing here? And yes, I did enjoy my night.”
He stepped into the lantern’s circle, its light climbing the sharp lines of his face. The bruises from the Reckoning still lived along his jaw and temple, yellowed and deep. Without his cloak, the black of his tight shirt seemed to drink the light. In the light, Thaelyn could see how muscular Thorne’s body was. He looked carved from the mountain itself, solid, unbending, and faintly dangerous.
“You are aware you don’t belong in the upper fields,” he said. “It’s not a lesson meant to be learned the hard way.”
“Your friend invited me.”
“Darian invites trouble the way a brazier invites moths.”
“Funny, but I didn’t feel like a moth.”
Thorne regarded her for a long moment. The corridor seemed to hold its breath.
“You were kissing him by the fire.”
She considered denying it, then didn’t bother. “I was.”
“You’re new,” he said. “You don’t yet know how quickly this place eats softness. You can’t afford a mouth that tastes of wine when you wake. You can’t afford anyone who makes you late to the part where you learn not to die.”
Her laugh was quiet, sharp. “You think a kiss will kill me.”
“I think distraction will.” His tone roughened. “And I think you don’t understand what men do with girls who don’t yet know the price of surviving around here.”
“Is that a confession,” she asked, “or a warning?”
“A courtesy.”
She took a step past him, but he shifted slightly, letting the light cut across his profile. The lantern made his eyes seem colder, the bruises starker. She stopped, not from fear but irritation. He had a talent for filling space until she was forced to notice the shape of her own breath.
“You were very busy tonight,” she said. “First, you spied on me like a chaperone from across a field, now you intercept me on my way home. Surely the girls draped around you are missing your company.”
“They don’t concern me.”
“Then what does?”
His jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, she thought he might leave it at silence.
“You stand like someone who’s always carrying weight,” he said finally. “I recognize that. You count exits without realizing it. You keep your back to the wall. You’re not careless Thaelyn. You are naturally advance over the others. It would be foolish to start being careless with your opportunity here.”
“The night’s over,” she said. “You can stop watching me.”
