The air was thick with warmed herbs and lavender oil. Beyond the canvas walls, the Blades sparred—grunts, the thud of boots in dirt. The rhythm echoed like a heartbeat she hadn’t yet found again.
“You’ll feel better once it’s brushed,” Thessia murmured, kneeling behind her with a small bowl of oil balanced between her knees. “Your hair’s gone wild with all that sleep.”
Auryn let out a breathy laugh. “It was wild before. Just…less obvious.”
Thessia chuckled low, a sound that barely disturbed the hush. Her fingers began their work—careful, slow—until the comb caught at a stubborn knot near Auryn’s nape. She winced.
“Sorry,” Thessia said quickly. “I forget you’re still mending.”
“My body aches like a raw wound,” Auryn sighed. “But too much feeling is better than none at all.”
Thessia's fingers moved without pause, but her voice tensed when she spoke next. "You should take more care," she said. "With your magic, I mean." When Auryn didn't interrupt, Thessia continued. "I'm the last person that'll tell you to hide your truth from men. But your magic…"
Auryn nodded. "It frightens those who dream."
Thessia chuckled. "Not that way I would have phrased it, but yes. You do things…say things…most aren't ready for. That puts you in danger."
"Will they be ready if I sit still and wait? How long must I stay silent?"
Thessia's hands paused. A breath escaped her like a silent laugh unchecked. "You're right. Of course you are. Forget I said anything, moonbeam."
She dipped her fingers back into the oil. Warmth threaded through each lock, her touch deliberate, patient.
“Your hair’s like starlight,” she said after a while, voice softer.
Auryn blinked. “Have you seen others with hair like mine?”
“I haven’t seenanyonelike you before.” A pause, then a rough clearing of her throat. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely. But more than that—you carry strength. Courage.”
Auryn’s gaze fell to her lap. She twisted her fingers, her posture tight, nervous. “I want others to see it.”
Thessia hummed knowingly. “You mean you want the Shadeslayer to see.”
“Kailorien,” Auryn whispered, the name slipping out like breath. Her eyes unfocused, drawn inward toward the memory of him.
“As I said before, that’s not a name any of us call him. Only you.”
Auryn fidgeted harder. “He has many, it seems. But none that trulynamehim.”
Thessia let out a short huff—amused, not unkind. “You’re not his type of woman.”
Auryn lips tugged, wry. “Small, you mean.”
Thessia’s laugh was half a sigh. “No. You’re…special.”
The word caught in Auryn’s chest. Lingered.
Thessia’s hands paused at her crown, fingertips brushing her scalp. “No one is ever special to the Resh’Agar. We’ve all seen the way he leads. The way hefights. Even the way he lies with women—there’s purpose in it. Precision. But belonging? Never. Not truly.” She exhaled. “Until you.”
“I’m not—” Auryn began, but Thessia was already shaking her head.
“You are. And he’s afraid to speak it. Afraid that if he names it, he’ll lose his grip on everything else.”
Silence stretched, filled with lavender and oil. Auryn breathed in, breathed out. An ache pressed behind her eyes.
“He doesn’t…” she tried again, voice trembling. “We haven’t…” Her face flushed hot. Not out of shame, but because—in this moment with Thessia—she felt strangely naked. “We lie beside each other every night. And once…he…we…”
Thessia’s chuckle was soft, warm. “If you weren’t special, he’d have taken you already. He wouldn’t let you linger in his tent, in his bed. When the Resh’Agar takes a woman, it rarely lasts. And never like this.”
