His arms tighten minutely around me. “Of what?”
“Of them. Of this.” I tilt my head toward the dark patchwork below us. “Your people. Your lands. Your everything.”
There’s a pause. For a second, all I can hear is the rush of wind and the steady whump of his wings.
“Yes,” he says at last. “Though I do not say it often. Pride can become complacency.”
“That’s not what I see,” I argue quietly. “I see people who trust you. Who feel… safe with you.”
He makes a low sound in his chest, like a boulder shifting.
“They are safe because I do not allow myself the luxury of feeling anything but vigilance.”
“Liar,” I whisper without thinking.
His gaze drops to mine, sharp.
My heart stutters, but I hold his eyes.
“You feel plenty, Dagan. I’ve had your emotions blasting through me all day like seismic waves. You can pretend you’re just stone and storm all you want, but I know better.”
Something in his expression softens. Cracks, even.
“Reckless woman,” he murmurs, fond and rough and way too gentle for my rapidly melting heart. “Do you always speak so plainly to Lords?”
“Only the ones who carry me around like I weigh nothing,” I shoot back.
He huffs something like a laugh, and the sound wraps around me almost as securely as his arms.
Then he offers me a mock glare.
“You weigh the perfect amount, Oona, and I will have words with anyone who says otherwise, including you.”
We angle toward The Barrow, built into the sheer face of the cliff ahead.
From this angle, it looks like the mountain simply decided to become a fortress—layers of carved balconies, window arches, and buttresses rising out of raw stone.
Vines cling to the walls, their leaves glowing faintly green, and enormous tree roots twist through the lower levels like the whole structure grew here instead of being constructed.
My new home.
The word still feels surreal. Heavy. A little terrifying.
And yet, they feel right.
Just like all of this—just like he does.
I think about meeting the other viyellas—and how wild it is that I’m suddenly part of this tiny Jersey-girl-in-Nightfall club.
Alaric’s whole grand master plan plays through my head again.
Drag human women here, trick the Fates, secure magical boons, save the realm.
Very tidy.
Very ruthless.
Very no feelings, just strategy.
