She nods, already adapting. Already thinking. “I’d like to see them. To talk to them and learn. Maybe to help.”
She shrugs, as if offering aid in a war-torn realm is no more extraordinary than volunteering at a free clinic.
Gods.
She is so good. So earnest.
It hurts in a place I do not have language for.
“I will show you later,” I promise. “But now I must go into the mine. There has been movement along the lower tunnels. Grier needs me.”
The light in her eyes dims—not fear, exactly, but awareness. Understanding.
She swallows once, then nods. “Of course, later is fine. You-you will be careful?”
I step closer before I can overthink it, lifting my hand to cup her cheek.
“It has been a very long time since anyone has asked me that,” I whisper, afraid to break the spell.
Her concern might very well be my undoing.
She closes her eyes and presses her cheek firmly to my palm.
Her skin is warm, alive, grounding. For a moment the chaos inside me stills.
“Alaric and Kael will stay with you,” I murmur. “They do not do well below ground.”
That earns me the smile I hoped for—small, crooked, brave.
“I’ll be fine,” she says quietly.
I lead her back outside, and now it is my turn to frown.
I do not want to leave her.
She is not built for The Ember Vein.
Not for what lurks beneath the surface.
She has no fire-binding. No Demon blood.
No instinct for the way the tunnels breathe and shift.
She has no idea what it costs me to turn away from her.
None.
And yet I do.
Because I trust her.
Because I trust my brothers to keep her safe.
Because I must.
Still—just in case.
I turn to Alaric, Kael, and Dagan, lowering my voice until it becomes a blade wrapped in flame.
