The way he says it, so confident, so sure, makes something inside me twist. I want to believe him. I want to let that calm assurance seep into me, to ease the tightness in my chest. But I can’t. I don’t trust certainty. Certainty is fragile, and the moment you rely on it, it shatters.
“Ronyn doesn’t think,” I mutter. “He just acts.”
Kael’s lips curve into a faint smile, though he doesn’t look at me. “Therion does. They balance each other.” He pauses, his eyes finally sliding to mine, his gaze heavy with something I can’t quite place. “Like all great partnerships.”
The words hit harder than they should, and I look away, letting my hair fall over my face. “This isn’t a partnership,” I say, my tone sharper than intended. “It’s a means to an end.”
Liar.
Kael doesn’t argue. He doesn’t need to. His smirk portrays everything he thinks, and he starts to surge ahead of me again. Just as I think the conversation is over, he looks back at me and adds, “If you say so, Lightborne.”
He doesn’t look back, doesn’t check to see if I’m keeping pace. Of course he doesn’t. Kael is always sure of himself, sure of the world around him, as if it bends to his will. I envy that certainty. Envy it, hate it, crave it all at once.
My gaze drifts to the cobblestones beneath my feet, damp with lingering mist.How far have I come from the life I knew?The streets of Virellin aren’t so different from these, but they hold none of the hope this place seems to breathe. Back home, the stones are always crusted with blood and despair, not damp with harmless dew that glisten peacefully under the Stars. And yet, I’m not sure which feels heavier—those streets, or the weight of everything I’m trying to carry now.
A fight. A drink. A vice to forget. That has always been my answer before. But the weight didn’t lift, not really. It clung to me, tangled in my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shake it free.And now, with Kael just a step ahead, his silence pressing down on me, my usual methods of coping feel out of reach.
Kael stops, turning to lock eyes with me and gestures towards a building. It doesn’t seem like a typical place Kael would lead me to, but then again, I’ve stopped trying to predict his moves.
The building we approach looks unassuming, tucked into the shadows of the street with nothing to set it apart from the rest of the village. But when Kael pushes open the heavy wooden door, the difference is immediate.
Warm air envelopes me, a stark contrast to the biting chill outside, and I pause in the doorway, overwhelmed by the subtle richness of the space. The scent of vanilla and polished wood is unexpected, almost cloying in its gentleness, and the soft light from the lanterns bathes everything in a golden glow. For a moment, I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream—or someone else’s life.
The grand staircase catches my eye first, its handrails gleaming like something out of a fairy tale. I catch my breath, glancing down at my own dirt-streaked hands, the grime of the road caked beneath my nails.
I don’t belong here.
Behind a modest desk sits a young man, no older than twenty, his sandy hair falling into his eyes as he straightens at the sight of Kael. Something changes in his posture, a sharpness that wasn’t there a moment ago. He raises his hands, his fingers forming a deliberate symbol—an upside-down triangle, I think, though the motion is so fluid it almost doesn’t register.
Kael’s response is just as quick, though not quick enough to escape my notice. His eyes flicker toward me, then back to the boy as he shakes his head subtly. The boy freezes, dropping his hands as though nothing had happened, but the tension in the room lingers like smoke.
“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Kael.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve stayed here before,” he says, his tone so calm and steady that it almost sounds rehearsed. “It’s a symbol we share amongst brothers. He knows me well.”
Too well, I think, but I bite back the comment. Something aboutthe exchange gnaws at me, the edges of my instincts bristling. The boy’s deference, the practiced symbol, Kael’s sharp reaction—it doesn’t add up.
As we move toward the stairs, I glance back, catching the boy’s eyes. He looks away too quickly, and my stomach tightens with unease. My fingers curl into fists, itching to find Ronyn and Seren later. I’ll ask them what they saw.
Something isn’t right.
After taking the keys off the desk from the young man, Kael ushers me up the stairs, and along a quaint and understated hallway—the intentional and thoughtful decor, art and furnishings far from ostentatious, though still beautiful. The doors are closed, and I suspiciously walk beside Kael, alert and on edge. The Starforged Blade at my thigh hums in preparation for a fight, as if it’s connected to my own senses.Maybe it is?
“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” Kael says, his posture stoic.
“Saying it doesn’t make it so,” I counter, breaths quickening, the sound of my blood pumping in my ears.
“Perhaps I can show you then?”
“Show me what, exactly?”
“That you will always be safe when I am with you, and that I would never put you at risk. I thought I proved that to you tonight?” He ventures, before adding, “But if you need extra...convincing, allow me to show youthis.”
Kael opens the door to the room in a sweeping arc, and I immediately freeze. Warm light spills from lanterns mounted on the walls, their soft glow reflecting off polished wooden floors. The air smells of sandalwood and vanilla, a stark contrast to the stench of sweat and dirt that clings to me. A steaming bath sits in the corner, the water clear and inviting, with rose petals floating idly on top of the water, and a large, ornate, four-poster bed with clean linens waits against the far wall.
I can’t move. My boots rooted to the floor, and my chest tightens with a mix of emotions I can’t name. It’s too much. Too clean. Too warm. Too...everything.
Kael’s eyes narrow slightly, tracking every frantic breath I take.His eyes pin me in place and his voice breaks through the haze. “Safe, Elyssara. You are safe. Go ahead,” he says, gesturing to the bath. “It’s yours.”
