“I’m not jealous,” he said.
“Oh?” Her mouth curved. “Then you’re okay with them canoodling in the starlight?”
He glared at her. She laughed, clapped him on the back, and went to harass Vorrik instead.
Night deepened. Stars bled into the sky. The fire crackled down to coals. Nythir watched Essie practice minor spells. She created and extinguished a tiny ball of gold in her palms. The bracelet glowed with each pulse, smoothing the energy before it could surge out of control.
He enjoyed the comfort the bracelet brought her, but hated how it hid her. He also hated Teren looking at her.
So he layered his own precautions instead. Silent. Invisible. Bound to her spark. If she stepped too far into danger, the wards would sing. If someone else did, they would scream.
Eventually, the caravan quieted. People crawled under wagons or into bedrolls. Someone finished a song on a lute with a last, wobbly chord.
Essie stood, brushing dust from her dress. Teren mirrored her motion.
Nythir’s jaw clenched.
“I’ll be back,” Essie said, oblivious to the tension. “We’re just going to see the stream.”
“Stay within the wards,” Nythir said. “If you step beyond them, I’ll know.”
She shivered at the warning—or the promise—cheeks pink. “Understood,” she whispered, and followed Teren into the darkness. Their laughter drifted back as they disappeared beyond the wagons.
Nythir sat perfectly still.
The fire popped. Night pressed close.
Letting her go felt like stepping back from a ledge he had been guarding with his entire body.
He could stop it. Could forbid it. Could justify it with a dozen practical reasons.
Instead, he loosened the reins.
The pressure didn’t leave. It simply waited.
His magic whispered against the wards. A silver net stretched around camp, specially tuned to Essie’s spark like a wire tuned to a note.
He could feel her moving, just at the edges of his senses. He settled in, every muscle tight. Jaw aching.
If anything went wrong, if her magic spiked, if that boy so much as breathed wrong, he wouldn’t need magic to destroy him.
After all, he thought grimly, when it came to trouble, Essie never did anything halfway. It was his self-appointed job to handle all her problems.
He had crossed a line somewhere between Stonehaven and the open road.
He was no longer guarding a contract. Or a mage. Or even a secret.
He was guardingher.
That realization settled with unsettling ease. Contracts ended. Jobs concluded. This did not feel temporary. And Nythir had never been careless with things that could change the shape of his life.
20
Esther
How to tell if someone is flirting: ask a friend. Not yourself. Definitely not yourself.
Esther had never walked through a camp at night before. Her nightly strolls in palace gardens with stiff, silent servants were nothing like this. She drank in the lanterns’ soft glow, the lowmurmur of whispering fires, the sky stretching wide above her like a lake of stars. It felt like stepping into someone else’s dream.
