Had he been able to speak, he would have warned her. This wasn’t a battle she could win. None could suppress the Resh’Agar.
But then shedid.
His runes calmed, the roaring magic within sputtering and retreating into dormancy.
She blinked, and everything released. The spell broke.
He staggered, caught himself on the table.
She stepped back, eyes wide, sweat beading at her temple.
He held up his hands. “It’s all right. I’m not angry.” He drew a breath. “You were protecting yourself”
His runesbacked down from a threat.Her power over them had beenabsolute. How had thistinycreature managed to immobilize him? She barely reached his sternum. He could lift her with one arm. Break her with one hand. And yet…
His thoughts drifted. To her long white lashes. To the sharp intelligence flickering in eyes too knowing, too ancient. She set the star map on the table with infinite care, then pointed.
Resh turned, slower this time. “You want me to open it?”
A small nod.
“There’s a button on the inside curve,” he gestured. “May I?”
She nodded, and he took the golden orb into his hands, pressing down on a hidden spot. The device popped open, and a warm bright light threw projections of the stars up on the walls and ceiling of the tent. The map charted a portion of the sky few modern scholars remembered, and as she turned—just so—the constellations aligned with the glowing freckles on her face.
This time, it wasn’t a spell that bound him, but awe.
The woman’s eyes filled with a nostalgic gleam. She reached out and touched one of the constellations. Not the brightest. One of the faint ones—off to the side. Forgotten.
She whispered. One word. Barely audible.
Resh leaned in. “Say that again?”
She touched her chest, then the star. “Auryn’reh Solah.”
His heart thundered so loud he thought she’d hear it.
“Is that your name?”
She didn’t answer.
So he whispered back: “Auryn, then.”
When she finally dared to smile—soft, fragile—something in his chest broke open. An ache. A promise. Something he would spend a thousand years trying to understand.
As she lowered her hand, her knees bent. She swayed. Instinct overrode hesitation. He stepped forward, hands catching her shoulders before she could fall. He checked his strength, afraid he’d crush her if he didn’t.
Her head dropped, breath uneven. The color had leached from her face, her lips pale and trembling. The glowing freckles on her face dimmed to dull silver.
“You’re spent, little star,” he murmured. “That spell took much from you.”
She allowed him to steady her. This sudden closeness was dizzying. Her scent coiled around him like a siren’s lure. His hand stayed on her back longer than it should have. Just resting there. Grounding her. Groundinghimas he helped her sit, guiding her to the stool beside him. She settled in without protest. Resh knelt beside her and opened the star map again. The tent glowed around them—constellations drifting across the canvas above likefragments of a dream.
For a long time, they sat that way—shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars move.
She pointed to some. Spoke in that strange language again. Naming things. Sometimes asking questions he could only guess the answers to. Every time he shared what he remembered of the skies, she quieted.
Not just watching.
