He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even try this time, but his shoulders tighten. I don’t push that one further yet. Instead I ask the question that’s been building since he said taken.
“Did they know you were gone?”
His gaze snaps back to mine. Sharp. Anger flares in his eyes.
“They?”
“Your people,” I clarify. “The others. Zmaj.”
“Yes.”
“Did they look for you?”
Silence, but different this time. It’s not strain or confusion; it’s stillness. Absolute stillness. I hold, watching him and waiting. The wind shifts across the dunes, dragging sand in thin lines around our feet. He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t break, but I feel it before he says it. That something just changed.
“Did anyone come for you?” I ask, rephrasing the question.
Quiet. Careful. The answer comes just as steady as everything else he’s said.
“No one came.”
No anger. No bitterness. No visible reaction at all. Just another fact, but it hits hard. Harder than it should be, and I don’t know why.
I don’t know him. I shouldn’t be concerned, but I am. Something tightens in my chest, sharp and unexpected. Because I know, on some level, what this means. Not just that he was taken. That he was gone long enough for it to matter. Long enough that if anyone was going to find him, they would have. And they didn’t.
I swallow, forcing my thoughts back into something useful.
“Things changed here,” I say, more controlled now. “Before we got here. The planet—there was a war. People died. Systems collapsed. They might not have known where to look.”
His gaze doesn’t shift or soften. Doesn’t change at all.
“I know.”
The words are spoken with a finality that isn’t defensive or questioning. They sound more like acceptance. I blink, thrown off by the response.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then you?—”
I stop, because there’s nothing else to say to that. He already decided what it meant. A long time ago, or so it seems. I look at the way he stands. At the way nothing in him bends around that truth. And I don’t try to correct it, because I’m not sure I can.
“What’s…” I pause, swallowing before finishing the thought. Do I want to know this? It will change things. I grind my teeth, then shake my head. “What’s your name?”
His head jerks around, eyes locking on me. He stares, in what I can only assume is disbelief. That utter, unbelievable stillness is back. He doesn’t blink. I don’t think he breathes. Then, several heartbeats later, his tail twitches, throwing sand into the air.
“Kaelreth,” he says, barely a whisper.
I nod, and despite myself, a smile forms.
“Leena,” I say, pressing a hand to my chest. “Can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but…”
I trail off, unsure how to end that. He watches closely. Then a faint smile plays over his lips. He nods slowly as the silence settles between us again, but it’s different. He’s not just the one who took me. He’s not just the one keeping me alive. He’s something else.
Something that was lost and never found. I draw in a slow breath, steadying myself. This isn’t just about getting away from him any longer, and I’m not sure what to do with that.
He turns and we move, not because he tells me to, but because standing still doesn’t change anything.
