Thane’s gaze flicks to me, curiosity there. “What?”
I look straight ahead, as if the answer might be waiting in the fields beyond.
“Being the leader of the realm.”
The question hangs there—too big for a break in training, too heavy for idle conversation. And yet, he doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t throw it back at me with that dry edge he’s so good at wielding.
And then, after a moment, he answers.
“There’s no room for doubt,” he says finally. His voice is measured, like he’s choosing his words carefully, sifting through a lifetime of responsibility and only pulling out what he’s willing to show me.
“There’s no room for failure,” he continues. “No room to be uncertain, or hesitant, or anything less than exact—because if I falter, the realm pays the price.” His grip on his water jug tightens slightly, the only visible crack in his otherwise unreadable exterior.
I watch him closely. Not the words—him.The way his body holds the silence. The way it’s shaped to carry the cost of command.
“That sounds—” I hesitate. “Lonely.”
His jaw ticks, and then says, “It is what it is.”
I frown. “That’s not an answer.”
He glances at me, eyes smoke-gray and impossible to read. “It’s the only answer I can give.”
And somehow—I know that’s true. Because he’s not complaining. He’s not asking for sympathy. He’s just naming it: the burden. The shape of it. The silence inside it.
I exhale through my nose, glancing forward again, watching the soldiers in the neighboring rings spar.
“I think that’s why people follow you,” I murmur.
Thane doesn’t respond, so I keep going.
“They know you won’t fail them,” I say. “Because you won’tletyourself.”
His fingers flex slightly on the jug. Something flickers across his face—too fast to name.
And then, finally, he exhales a quiet breath. “Maybe.”
He stays seated beside me, his body still as ever. But it feels different now. Not just because he’s speaking—but because I’m starting to see him.
Not the title. The man beneath it.
“You weren’t born a Warlord.”
His gaze cuts to me. Sharp. Measuring. “You just say whatever’s on your mind, don’t you?”
I smile sheepishly. “I did just tell you about my mother raising me to speak up.”
Thane shakes his head and laughs, his eyes sparkling.
My heart actually skips a beat.
I ignore it and tilt my head back, watching two dragons arc across the sky, their wings slicing clean through the morning light before they vanish beyond the outpost walls.
Then, quieter, I ask, “What did you want? Before the war? Before the weight?”
Silence.
At first, I think he won’t answer. That he’ll deflect, retreating behind the wall he’s so carefully built.
