“Well?” he said, voice as steady as a drawn bow.
Tamsin hesitated—just for a fraction, just enough to make it clear that she was weighing her words before offering them. “She’s not useless,” she said at last, and though it could have been a joke, there was a solemnity to it that made Alina’s ears burn.
Kael’s mouth quirked into a ghost of a grin. “A ringing endorsement.”
Tamsin shrugged. “She listens. And she doesn’t lie to herself about how it feels.”
Kael’s eyes sharpened at that. He nodded, then turned his focus on Alina, as if seeing her for the first time.
“Good,” he said. “That’s all we need for now.”
Tamsin ducked her head in concession, then stepped back into the woods without a word. She moved with the uncanny grace of a predator—gone in three strides, her passage marked only by the quick, liquid hush of branches swinging closed behind her.
That left Alina and Kael alone, the stones a ring around them, the darkness closing in.
For a minute, neither spoke.
Kael broke the standoff, stepping into the circle. The last light caught the gold of his eyes, making them seem more alive, more animal, than they ever had in the tunnels or council chambers. He wore the same battered tunic as before, but there was something different about his bearing—a relaxation, a lowering of armor, as ifthis patch of forest were as close to home as he ever allowed himself to get.
“Sit with me,” he said, motioning to a fallen trunk dappled with lichen.
Alina hesitated, then obeyed. She perched at the far end, careful not to meet his gaze. She could feel the aftermath of her training still humming in her bones, a fatigue that was more spiritual than physical, an ache at the base of her spine where the day’s failures had pooled.
Kael waited until she was settled, then eased himself down, the trunk creaking under his weight. He reached into his pocket and produced a small loaf of bread, which he handed her. Seeing this, Alina realized that she was ravenous, having not eaten all day, and thankfully accepted the offer. For a while he said nothing, just let the night sounds fill the space: the distant call of a bird, the soft collapse of dew-heavy leaves, the rhythm of their own breaths. Alina was quietly munching her bread, reflecting on this nice gesture of his. He must have thought about her during the day. Look at that. Nevertheless, there was an air of anticipation around them, and she started to get anxious about what he could possibly want.
When he spoke, his voice was quieter than she’d ever heard it.
“Tamsin is harsh, but she’s never unfair,” he said. “If she thinks you have promise, you do.”
Alina snorted, unable to keep the bitterness out. “I killed a flower. She looked at me like I’d gutted a puppy.”
Kael smiled, slow and strange. “The last time Tamsin lost control, she flattened a grove and set fire to a hillside. You did well.”
That drew a reluctant laugh from her. She felt the pressure in her chest loosen, just a hair.
Kael shifted, leaning in, bracing his elbows on his knees. His posture was open, almost vulnerable, the way a person sits when they are either very tired, or they feel safe. The light at this hour was forgiving, erasing the sharpness of his features and softening the planes of his cheek and jaw. It made his scars seem less accusation and more memory.
Alina watched the profile of his face, the movement of his mouth as he spoke.
“Did you know what you were?” she asked, the question out before she could stop herself. “Before you… learned?”
Kael considered, then shook his head. “I thought I was a monster. That’s what they told us. If you could bend the world, it was because something inside you was wrong. Rotten. Corrupted. It took a long time to realize that the only rot was in the people who feared it.”
He glanced at her, then away, as if embarrassed by the admission.
“I’m not afraid of it,” Alina said. “Not exactly. I just… I don’t want it to be the only thing about me that matters.”
Kael nodded, the movement oddly gentle. “That’s the trick, isn’t it? Making them see you as something other than the sum of your flaws.”
“That’s nothing new to me,” she muttered. Kael looked at her in contemplation and fell silent, picking at the lichen on the trunk.
Alina wanted to ask more, to press him for stories of his life before the rebellion, but the words tangled, getting stuck in her throat. Instead, she let herself feel the peace of the moment—the ease of his company, the absence of anyone watching, the way the darkness outside the stones felt less like a prison and more like a cocoon.
Kael looked up, meeting her eyes. In the gloom, his pupils were wide, ringed in gold.
“Show me,” he said, not a command, but a request. “Show me what Tamsin taught you.”
Alina hesitated but nodded. She lifted her hand, focused on a pebble at her feet, and willed it to roll. It trembled, once, then shifted a finger-width closer.
