“Yes.”
“And?”
I meet her gaze.
“Recover the artifact,” I say. “Restore position.”
Not a lie. Not the full truth. She is searching for the part I didn’t say. She doesn’t find it.
“Xalith is moving northeast,” I continue. “Velkiron is closing in. They expect a conflict point soon.”
That holds her attention.
“Zethon?”
“Still waiting.”
“For now.”
“For now.”
The silence stretches between us again, thinner than before, shaped by everything that hasn’t been said. I let it remain. The decision doesn’t need to be made yet. Reclaiming the artifact would require locating Xalith. Eliminating Aeryn. Immediately. The structure is simple. Too simple.
I watch her, not as a variable to remove, not as an obstacle, but as something more complex than the offer allows. She doesn’t wait for direction.
“We keep moving,” she says, turning back toward the path ahead. “If we reach the pass before Zethon scouts, we control the encounter.”
I watch her for a second longer. Then I follow her. The option remains. Open for now.
33
AERYN
The path narrows long before we reach it. Not physically at first. The forest still stretches around us in uneven layers of shadow and light, branches shifting overhead, ground soft beneath each step. But I feel it tightening, the way possibilities begin to collapse into fewer outcomes, fewer directions that hold.
We’re close.
I slow slightly, not enough to stop, just enough to adjust our timing, letting the distance between steps stretch into something more deliberate. Vaedros notices. He says nothing, but I feel his attention behind me, measuring the change, recalculating without interrupting.
I don’t need him to lead this part.
The terrain shifts as we move forward, the forest thinning just enough to reveal stone ahead, rising into a narrow pass carved by time and pressure rather than design. It creates a natural corridor, visibility limited from above but open through the center, forcing anything that passes through it into clear line of sight.
Exactly where I need them. I step into the open without hesitation. No cover. No concealment. Vaedros stops just behind me, close enough to intervene, far enough that I can see the question forming without hearing it.
“You’re not hiding,” he says.
“No.”
“They’ll see us immediately.”
“That’s the point.”
I don’t turn to look at him. If I do, I risk explaining more than I need to.
“They’ll interpret this as intent,” he adds.
“They should.”
