“My lord,” Kestrel began, his tone a dry rasp of professional caution. “Direct confrontation with an Iron Spur instructor was not part of the initial fee. They are dangerous. Complications,” he finished pointedly, “will require a renegotiation of my rate.”
Polan let the silence stretch. He didn’t need to shout to assert dominance; he simply let the warmth drain from his demeanor, dropping the affectation of the benevolent patron to reveal the cold reality beneath. Kestrel was not a partner. He was a tool. An expensive, slightly dull blade that was currently haggling over its own maintenance cost.
“You will be compensated for any... inconvenience, Tracer,” he said, his voice stripped of all inflection. “Your job is to get me to the target. Do it, and you will find me exceedingly generous.”
He stepped closer, invading the man’s space just enough to make him flinch. “But do not mistake my generosity for patience, Kestrel. One is infinite. The other is nearly exhausted.”
Kestrel went still. The mercenary’s eyes widened slightly, the demand for more coin dying in his throat. He looked like a man who had reached for a harmless garden snake and realized, too late, that he was holding a viper. He recognized the shift instantly—the clarity of a predator that had been using camouflage until the moment to strike was perfect.
The arrogance drained out of him. He met the chilling gaze for a heartbeat, then gave a curt, shallow bow. “As you command, my lord.”
The air in the secluded valley was clean and warm. Gessa drew a deep breath, feeling the sun on her face. For weeks now, her training sessions with Ky had been held here, and the valley had become her sanctuary. Here, the magic in her blood no longer felt like a wild, roaring beast she had to wrestle into submission. It felt like a partnership.
“Ready?” Ky’s voice was calm and steady.
Gessa nodded, her eyes fixed on two marked stones twenty paces apart. This was a new exercise, more advanced than anything her cohort was attempting: ‘Bridging the Gap.’
“Remember what we talked about,” he instructed. “Don’t try to force the connection. Spin the ambient energy into a thread. Anchor it here, then walk the line to the other stone. Keep the tension even.”
She closed her eyes. She tried to “spin” the buzzing ambient energy as he asked, but it felt like trying to braid angry wasps. It slipped and sparked, refusing to hold a shape.
Fine,she thought.If I can’t build a bridge, I’ll dig a tunnel.
She abandoned the buzzing energy and reached for the silence beneath it. She focused on the empty air between the two stones. She didn’t try to fill it with light; she tried to hollow it out. She imagined a narrow, invisible pipe connecting the two points, a vacuum where the air couldn’t go.
The air between the stones shivered. A distortion appeared, like heat haze rising from summer pavement, arcing perfectly from one stone to the other.
“Don’t look at the source,” Ky’s voice cut in, calm and certain. “Look at the end. Maintain the structure.”
She followed his advice, widening the invisible tunnel just a fraction. The distortion solidified into a perfect, humming arch of warped light. It wasn’t the bright, showy magic Roric produced; it was clear, stable, and almost invisible against the sky.
After a long ten seconds, she released her hold. The vacuum collapsed with a softthumpof displaced air, and the distortion vanished.
A startled laugh escaped her lips.
“It held,” she gasped, turning to Ky, her face alight with a wonder she hadn’t felt since childhood.
“That’s a skill that takes most recruits six months to even attempt, Gessa,” he said, a rare, small smile on his lips. “And you did it without leaking a single spark of excess energy. Pure efficiency.”
The praise settled in her chest, warm and solid. In this valley, with this man and his magnificent beast, she felt more than just safe. She felt strong. She felt… possible.
It was in that moment of quiet triumph that a voice, colder than a winter grave but wrapped in a silken veneer of concern, cut through the warm air.
“Gessa.”
The world stopped. She turned slowly.
Polan stepped out from behind a rock formation, his handsome face a mask of loving relief. “My love. There you are. You’ve wandered so far. I’ve come to take you home.”
Her blood ran to ice. That was his most dangerous face. Her gaze flickered to Ky. He was staring at the intruder with a sharp, narrowing gaze—assessing a threat he didn’t yet understand.
But seeing the horror on Gessa’s face, the assessment ended. She saw the realization change his features into something hard and dangerous. He knew. This wasn’t a stranger; this was the enemy.
Ky reacted instantly, moving to place himself between her and the unknown man. In perfect, silent unison, Night rose from his resting spot and padded forward to stand beside him, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his chest.
“Her home is here now,” Ky’s voice was cold steel, leaving no room for debate. “And she is under my protection.”
Polan’s sad smile didn’t falter, but his gaze shifted from Ky’s face, slowly traveling down his rigid stance, lingering for a cruel second on the favoring of Ky’s left leg, before returning to his face.
