“We’ve seen more anomalies opening in pairs,” Thessia said, her tone clipped but respectful. “Whatever this last one was, it wasn’t isolated.”
He nodded. “Then we stay merged.”
As she turned to distribute orders, Zarrek appeared at his side, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“How’s the little star?” he asked without preamble. “Men are asking.”
“Still resting,” Resh said, raising a brow.
Zarrek’s expression didn’t change. “All day? Did she eat? Bathe?”
Resh sighed. “She ate last night. Why?” he asked, sharper than he meant.
“Becausenobody’sseen her. And because I know you. You would’ve mentioned it if she’d woken so I could watch her. She’s usually up by now, singing and pattering around, staying busy,” Zarrek remarked, casting a glance toward the edge of the camp where the Commander’s tent swayed lightly in the wind.
Resh didn’t look up. “Let her sleep. She’s earned it.”
But his gaze flicked eastward anyway.
Later, while sparring with Zarrek behind the quartermaster’s tent, the clang of training dulled into background noise as a young stable hand trotted over, hesitating at the edge of the ring.
“Commander? Sorry—um. It’s just…The Sokâr didn’t come this morning,” the boy blurted. “She usually brushes the dapple-gray with the hoof scarring. He won’t let the handlers close and gets skittish without her.”
Resh’s blade halted mid-swing. “The dapple-gray? He’s acting up?”
“Yes, sir. And some of the others were wondering if she’s still teaching ward-scribing after dusk. She promised a few of them another lesson.”
A muscle in Resh’s jaw ticked. How long hadthisbeen going on?
“Tell them to wait.”
He resumed the drill, but there was a crack forming. He felt it.
Just after midday, a woman in Thessia’s colors approached him near the mess lines. He didn’t recall her name.
“Pardon, Commander. The Sokâr hasn’t been by the triage post today.”
Resh frowned at the title.
This is getting out of control. Everyone is making assumptions, and I need to stop it before this spreads like a disease.
“Why is she expected there?” he asked.
“She’s been sitting with the wounded every evening—reading letters,listening to prayers.”
“She isn’t the Sokâr,” he said flatly. “She’s not trained. She doesn’t even believe in the Doctrine.”
The woman smiled, undaunted. “She listens, and her smile and kindness give hope.”
His stomach twisted. Footsteps to his right—Thessia approached, a hand on her hip, her gaze wary.
“I brought her honeyed rice,” she finally said. “Thought she might rouse for something sweet. But she didn’t stir. Didn’t move a muscle.”
A beat. Heavy. Pointed.
“Resh,” Thessia said, “is her skinnormallythat cold?”
His expression darkened.
