“We don’t cross open,” he says. “Not this close or this late.”
Illadon nods, shifting his grip on Rverre’s hand. I don’t miss the way his eyes track the buildings too, more alert than curious.
Korr turns left, angling us toward a structure set back from what might once have been a main thoroughfare. The building leans slightly, one corner collapsed, but most of it still stands. Thick stone at its base. Fewer windows. A roofline that hasn’t entirely given up.
“Shelter,” he decides. “For the night.”
He doesn’t ask if I agree. I should bristle. The old reflex stirs, sharp and ready, but instead something loosens in my chest.
The entrance is half-buried, a wide opening where doors once stood. Korr pauses and sets me down, but doesn’t release me until my weight settles fully and my ankle holds. His hands remain steady, supportive without lingering.
The outer wall that faces into the desert is darker than the others as if it took the brunt of a blast. We duck inside. It smells like dust, sand, and old metal. No tinges of rot, only abandonment.
The light inside is dim, but Korr walks confidently. He leads us to a wide set of stairs. They seem to be made of metal or some similar material, rising up to the next floor without railing. Korr stares up into the shadows.
I stare at the stairs, debating my ability to make it. Korr hesitates, looking at me with a deep frown.
“I can make it,” I say, defiant.
“I know…” he says, trailing off. “Wait. Let me scout first.”
“I can go,” Illadon offers, stepping forward.
“I need you to protect the females, young warrior,” Korr says, his voice not taking on any hints of the gentleness most do with a child. He’s speaking to a warrior, giving Illadon the respect that he would otherwise demand.
Illadon looks at Rverre, then at me, and nods sharply, crossing his arms over his chest as he squares his shoulders.
“Right. Good idea.”
Korr nods sharply, then climbs the stairs.
I lean against the wall to take the pressure off my ankle. Rverre moves to my side, mimicking my stance. Illadon marches a half-circle in front of us, eyes roving out for any possible threat.
We listen to Korr explore the upstairs. The sound of his heavy, booted steps thumping here and there. The suns are almost fully set when he reappears on the stairs.
“It is safe,” he says.
Illadon moves to Rverre, taking her hand, then leading the way up. Korr comes to my side, leaning in close.
“You can make it,” he says in a whisper. “But I would like to give your ankle more time. Might I carry you up?”
My throat clenches too tight for words to emerge. I stare into his eyes, but there isn’t a hint of mockery. The only thing I see is sincerity and maybe, just maybe, something burning deep inside of them.
I try to swallow but the tightness doesn’t ease. I nod my consent and he accepts it. Gently lifting me off my feet, cradling me across his chest then climbing the stairs two at a time.
The upstairs used to have different rooms, but only remnants of the dividing walls remain. Illadon and Rverre stand in the wide landing, looking around. Korr points in a direction and Illadon heads into the room. Korr and I follow.
Illadon guides Rverre to a spot near an intact wall where stone still rises solid and thick. She presses her palm to it, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
“It remembers,” she murmurs.
Korr doesn’t ask what.
Korr gets to work. He builds a small fire, enough to chase the cold from the stone without announcing us to whatever might be around to notice. He assists in setting up sleeping rolls and making sure we’re all fed. Only when everything else is done does he turn to me.
“You rest here,” he says, indicating a place near the wall where the stone curves inward, creating a shallow pocket of shelter. “I’ll keep watch.”
It isn’t a question. And for the first time, I don’t argue.
