Swallowing hard, I locked my focus onto his hazel eyes like they were a lifeline.
Kaelun took the smallest step back, urging me to follow him forward. I nearly dropped the rope and scampered back until he smiled and said, “Uncle Artton told me about the daggers Endymion gave you. I can’t wait to see them.”
It was clear he was trying to distract me, and I was grateful for it. “Did he also tell you that he outright refused to teach me how to imbue them even though Endymion told me he would?”
Another step forward.
He chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“You mean other than hating me?”
Another step.
“Uncle Artton doesn’t hate you; he just doesn’t do well when he can’t fix something through magic or sword.”
I scoffed. “What is it he has to fix?”
Another step.
“Lumnara.”
His answer stole my ability to move, the air suddenly thick.
“They worry about you,” he said, coaxing me forward another step with a soft tug on the rope. “All of them. I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through—no one could possiblyunderstand what it’s been like—but they’re concerned for you. For your safety.”
Another step.
“It’s not a matter ofifthe situation with Lord Wymond and King Thaddeus will come to a head,” he continued, “butwhen”—another step—"and with how easily the mercenaries almost fell Endymion and you…" He shook his head as he continued to tug me forward. “They’d never admit it, even to each other, but I don’t think any of them have slept a full night since you came back. I can see the fatigue in the way their magic is overcompensating.”
A twinge of empathy flooded me. I hadn’t meant for this to happen, for any of them to lose sleep over me. To worry. Kicking those thoughts away, I asked, “You can sense their fatigue through your unara—the one that allows you to see what’s happening with my powers?”
Another step.
“Yeah. I’ve known them my whole life, so I can tell when something is off. Take Uncle Myron, for example. Normally, the aura of power that flows through him is like a lighter, brighter version of his eyes, but when he arrived yesterday to help Tarrin, it was murkier swamp green.”
Another step.
“Because he was upset with Caius?”
“Hurt by Uncle C, yes.”
Another step.
“During the solstice,” I said, “Endymion taught me that fae are able to mask their emotions. If you’re able to discern emotions through color, doesn’t that make you the only one that can cut past those defenses?”
Another step before he nodded in confirmation.
“Hence it being classified,” he said with a rueful smile.
Stars, if other courts knew about Kaelun’s abilities, he’d have a target on his back. Not only that, but if he could sense emotions that acutely, it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to sense intentions either—and damn if his chipper heart, loving family, and doting female weren’t already enough to be jealous of, he also had the one unara I’d kill for.
Gods, how much easier would my life be if I could detect lies and deceit?
Too lost in thought, I hadn’t realized we’d reached the other side of the bridge until Kaelun made the rope disappear.
“See, not that bad.” He winked and bounded down the few steep steps to the pit.
Making a conscious decision not to look back, I followed him only to stop at the bottom step. The pit was… underwhelming at best—even by human standards. A simple slab of white marbled stone encircled sand so fine that I’d call it silt if it weren’t the same snow-white color as the marble.
