“Auren can try. The point is—“ Aisling meets my gaze directly, “she’s trying to figure out if this place is real. If we’re real. If the offer of safety is genuine or just another trap. She needs to see the mess, the dysfunction, the proof that we’re not pretending to be something we’re not.”
“And she’s starting to believe it?”
“She’s starting to want to.” Aisling turns to go. “That’s different from believing. But it’s a start.”
I don’t expectto see her alone.
But there she is, standing on the ramparts as sunset paints the mountains gold, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold. No Selene. No Aisling. Just Nasyra, staring at the horizon with an expression I can’t read.
I should leave. Should give her the space everyone keeps telling me she needs. But my feet carry me forward before my mind catches up, and then I’m standing a few feet away, close enough to speak without shouting but far enough not to crowd her.
“The sunset is better from the eastern tower.” The words come out before I can stop them. “You can see the way the light hits the valley. Makes the river look like it’s burning.”
She doesn’t startle. Doesn’t turn. “Are you following me?”
“No.” Mostly true. “This is where I come when I need to think. Didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Selene suggested it.” A pause. “She said it was a good place to breathe.”
“She’s not wrong.”
Silence stretches between us. Not comfortable—we’re nowhere near comfortable—but not hostile either. Something in between. Something tentative.
“I met your brothers properly today,” she says finally. “All of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
The apology startles a breath out of her—not quite a laugh, but close. “Rurik told me I should ask you about the time Auren reorganized the entire library by color and caused a diplomatic incident.”
“That was two hundred years ago. Auren has never forgiven us for bringing it up.”
“He threatened to remove Rurik’s tongue if he mentioned it again.”
“He makes that threat weekly. It’s practically a term of endearment at this point.”
Another almost-laugh. She’s still not looking at me, but some of the tension has left her shoulders. The sunset gilds her profile in gold and amber, catching in her dark hair, warming the pale angles of her face.
“Aisling said something interesting.” Her voice shifts, grows more serious. “She said she couldn’t tell if you were standing guard or waiting for permission to exist.”
“She mentioned that.”
“Is it true?”
The directness catches me off guard. But I’ve never been able to lie to her—not before, and not now.
“Probably.” The admission costs something. “I’ve spent a long time being useful. Being the one they send when something needs to die. It’s easier than being... other things.”
“What other things?”
“Present. Vulnerable.” I meet her gaze. “Hopeful.”
She stares at me. Those mismatched eyes—purple and pink, unique in all the world—search my face for something. Deception, maybe. Manipulation. The tricks she’s learned to expect from everyone who’s claimed to help her.
“I don’t understand you,” she says finally. “Everyone here treats me like I belong, and I don’t know why. Selene acts like we’re already sisters. Aisling told me I could talk to her anytime. Your brothers—“ She shakes her head. “Rurik spent twenty minutes explaining the proper way to set things on fire, like it was vital information I needed immediately.”
“For Rurik, it probably is.”
“And you—“ She stops. Starts again. “You look at me like I’m something precious. Like I’m the answer to a question you’ve been asking for centuries. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
