The Ledger Master is turning him into a monster.
The thought should break me. Should shatter whatever strength I have left.
Instead, it hardens into something cold. Something sharp.
“Then we don’t have time to wait.” I meet Rathok’s gaze. Let him see the fire burning behind my fear. “We go to the Hall, and we end this before he finishes destroying my brother.”
His grip on my shoulders shifts. Softens. Something that might be admiration flickers across his expression.
“You’re not ready.”
“I’ll never be ready. But I’m going anyway.”
He lets out a deep sigh. His thumbs trace slow circles on my shoulders—unconscious, I think, a soothing gesture he probably doesn’t realize he’s making. The touch steadies something inside me. Anchors me when everything else is spinning apart.
In a city where everything is obligation and debt, where contracts bind tighter than chains, he’s choosing. Freely. For me.
“Rathok—”
“No.” He releases my shoulders. Steps back. The distance returns, but different now. Chosen rather than defensive. “Don’t thank me. Don’t read more into it than it is. I’m just an orc who’s tired of being a weapon.” His gaze holds mine. “And you’re the first thing worth fighting for instead of against.”
I don’t have words. Don’t have anything except the ache in my chest and the fire in my veins and the knowledge that whatever happens next, I won’t face it alone.
He moves to the table. Starts gathering supplies—the remaining bandages, a waterskin, the amber bottle. Practical. Focused. As if he didn’t just crack something open between us that neither of us knows how to close.
“We’ll need to move through wraith-heavy territory.” His voice has steadied. Returned to the flat professionalism of an enforcer planning a collection. “The route I know avoids the worst of it, but there’s no safe route to where we’re going.”
“The dangerous one, it is.”
He pauses. Looks at me—really looks, the way he did when we first met, when he was cataloging whether I was worth the risk of helping.
“You’re different—” The words seem to surprise him as much as they surprise me. “—than you were in your brother’s apartment. Than you were even in the crypts.”
“Fear changes people.”
“So does hope.”
I don’t know how to respond. Don’t know if he means it as an observation or an accusation.
His eyes won’t meet mine. He says, “Rest. I need information before we continue.”
