He stood braced against the central support beam, arms folded in loose repose. His weight sank into one hip, knees angled just enough to suggest patience rather than restlessness. Head tilted, he studied something only he could see, and whatever it was, it held him still. His chest rose and fell like a man listening for something faint and far away.
But his eyes—those eyes that normally danced with amusement when they were alone, sharpened by wicked intentions—were quiet now.
Rynna’s brow pulled tight. “Why so serious?”
Malekar didn’t answer right away. A breath. Then another. His gaze shifted, until it landed on her, as though surfacing from something deep.
“The giant,” he said at last. “Why did he take his own heart? He seemed…unreasonably afraid of you. Or maybe your sword.”
“I don’t know,” she said, sitting up. “It was odd.”
Malekar hummed, the sound neither agreement nor doubt. He knew not to push her.
Instead, he shifted his stance, the conversation already turning. “I saw you leave an extra supply pack with the children before we departed.”
Her stomach sank. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice.
She didn’t even know why she’d done it. Those children were strangers. Most wouldn’t live to see the next season. And yet, something in her bones had moved her hand to act.
She didn’t speak. What could she say? But her fingers itched, closing tighter around the fabric pooled at her side.
Malekar’s eyes dipped to the motion, catching it.
He moved, pushing off the post with a gradual pivot of his shoulders, bare feet silent on the woven mats.
“I don't give a damn where you came from.” His hand lifted, raking through the short strands of his raven-dark hair as he exhaled. “That was the deal. Your secrets stay yours.”
Another step, close enough now to touch.
“And I know we agreed not to care. That it would be cleaner that way.” His jaw shifted. “But here we are. And I do. Gods help me, I do.”
She sat up, crossing her arms over her chest, but her scowl softened, cracking open despite her instinct to run.
Why was he saying this? Why now? He’d promised not to care. Promised they’d keep things clean. Detached. But still… something inside her eased, pressure loosening after being braced too long.
Her thoughts scattered.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice cracked in the stillness as she pushed off the bed, passing through the tent. The extra riding skirt lay coiled in the corner like something abandoned. She yanked it free and shook out the folds.
“I don’t know.” The words came low, stripped bare.
Rynna stilled.
“I just—” He hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want you to hurt me. Or kill the others.”
She found the black tunic next and pulled it over her head.
“They didn’t say anything, but after what happened with the giant—they’re shaken. Vorian especially.” His hands came together, rubbing palm against palm. “You know him.He’ll try something while you’re sleeping. And when he fails…the others will rush in to protect him. And they’ll die.”
Rynna stepped into the skirt and reached for the belt. Her fingers moved in silence, slipping through the loops with deliberate care until the leather pulled snug.
“One of you could always step in.” The buckle fastened in a single, steady motion. “Take me during the first Devouring.”
It didn’t matter. The implication hung between them. He was telling her to leave.
Her hands dropped to her sides, and whatever fragile thing remained of her heart broke then, the sound of it vibrating deep in her chest.
“Do you really believe that one of us could take you?” His hands hung loose at his sides, shoulders level.
