That hits too close to the bone and I mentally reject it. I laugh once, sharp and humorless.
“You’re wrong.”
He shifts enough that I’m aware of the movement. Enough to remind me that he’s choosing to stay where he is.
“I am not,” he says. “But I will not press.”
That should be a relief, but it isn’t.
My chest tightens, breath catching on something old and familiar. I press my palm flat against the stone at my back, grounding myself in the present. In the weight of the now.
“You don’t need to understand me,” I say finally. “Just… do your job.”
A pause.
“I am,” he says.
I turn my head then, meeting his gaze in the dark. His eyes catch the starlight, unreadable and steady.
“No,” I say quietly. “You’re doing more than that.”
He holds my look for a long moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he looks away. The choice feels intentional and that makes my throat burn. Silence settles deeper this time. It’s not empty or hostile, more unresolved.
I draw my knees closer, resting my chin against them, and let my eyes drift back to the sky. Sleep feels distant and out ofreach. Unwelcome even, but rest, at least, feels possible. Behind us, Rverre murmurs in her sleep. Illadon shifts, steadying her without waking.
Korr resumes his watch, posture easing into something that looks almost like peace if you don’t know what to look for.
The night stretches on. And though I don’t move closer, don’t say the things pressing at the back of my tongue, I don’t pull away either. For now, that fragile middle ground is enough. Tomorrow I am sure will demand more, but tonight, I let the distance remain. Quietly strained and knowing it won’t hold forever.
11
TALIA
Iwake with the uncomfortable certainty that I slept longer than I intended.
The first thing I register is heat—not the punishing crush of midday, but the creeping warmth that tells me the suns are climbing. The second is stiffness. My muscles protest as I shift, a dull ache blooming through my calves and lower back. I wince and sit up slowly, blinking grit from my eyes.
I scan the small hollow automatically. Rverre is already awake, crouched near Illadon as he tightens the straps on her pack with quiet concentration. Relief loosens something tight in my chest. Good.
I don’t look for Korr.
The thought comes unbidden, sharp enough that I recognize it for what it is and clamp down immediately. I busy myself instead by reaching for my canteen, checking the seals, taking a measured swallow that barely dents the dryness in my throat. I inventory supplies I already inventoried last night. I adjust my cloak even though it doesn’t need it.
Control first. Feelings later.
The desert around us is waking too. Wind whispers low across the sand, rearranging the surface just enough to erase the certainty of our footprints. The sky is bleaching toward that familiar, unforgiving brightness.
I push myself to my feet and stretch, rolling my shoulders, ignoring the faint throb at my temples that tells me I should have taken epis earlier. I’ll do it once we’re moving. No sense wasting it while still.
And still I don’t look for him.
It’s easier not to. Easier to pretend that the snap in my voice last night was nothing more than fatigue. Easier to pretend I didn’t jolt awake with my heart trying to tear free of my ribs. That I didn’t see a door sealing in my mind so clearly it left a phantom ache in my chest.
I tighten the strap on my pack and turn just in time to catch Illadon watching me. He doesn’t look accusing, just observant. He’s too good at that for someone his age.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say immediately. Too fast. I soften it a fraction. “Just stiff.”
