“Don’t tell him you saw me.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Resh. Don’t need him to know I was here. I’m not staying. Don’t know if I ever meant to. Just…heard a rumor. Someone I thought was long gone might be alive and here in the city.” His voice dipped lower. “Had to see if it was true.”
He didn’t say the name. But her heart fluttered all the same. Her hand came up to stroke the golden braid at her shoulder. His eyes caught it, and she—in turn—caught the way he drew back, as though expecting a blow. She kept her questions sheathed, though they burned within her heart.
“Zarrek,” she protested. “Why hide?”
He shrugged one shoulder, looking up toward the higher tiers. “Because if Resh sees me, I won’t be able to leave. And I’m not sure I’m ready to beknownagain. Not by him. Not by anyone.”
There was a long silence. Auryn wrung her hands in front of her. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why that feels so strange to admit.”
Zarrek tilted his head at her, studying her face. “You’ve changed.”
She looked down at her blood-soaked hands. “I had to.”
“Don’t look any different, but you seem older,” he said. “Sharper. Like you’re finally growing into the flame everyone feared you’d be.”
Her lips curved. “That’s an ominous assessment.”
“It’s a compliment.” He hesitated, then added, “How is he?”
“Carrying too much, as always.”
Zarrek gave a quiet grunt of agreement. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”
There was a beat. Then two.
“They won’t stop,” he said suddenly. “The Gliders. Killed two, but the Matriarch doesn’t care about losses. She’s put out a bounty on you. You’ve become dangerous. A symbol. She wants you gone before the city and the rebels start believing in you.”
Auryn swallowed. “So it’s real? The Cataclyss?”
He gave her a sidelong look. “More real than the city that forgot it. I’ve walked its paths. And so have others. Krystopolis isn't the only power that's got eyes on you now.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“But, I haven’t even done anything of note. I’m just the Sokâr.”
“You’re changing things, and the rule of thumb is that people in power don’t like change unless they’re the ones starting it.”
“I haven’t…” she hesitated. “I haven’tdoneanything.”
“You’ve done enough to catch their eye.”
She shook her head, disbelieving.
“Have to go,” Zarrek said. “Stayed too long already.”
He turned away, shadows curling at his heels as he stepped toward the alley’s edge. Auryn moved without thinking. Her boots splashed in blood and ash as she caught up to him, grabbing his cloak, her voice breaking as she cried, “Don’t go!”
He stilled. And for a breathless second, the silence between them held all the weight of decades.
She clung to the fabric, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Zarrek…I tried to stop them…forher. Foryou. I signed the Decree, but the Council gutted it within a year. Said it was unsustainable…”
The Decree of First Breath—a mandate to prevent the Repurposing of infants born wrong. To give them a chance at life.
His voice tightened. “You remembered. Didn’t have to, but you did. I never even told you. You just…saw it…way back when, in the swamps. Before I even knew how to respect you properly.”
