“But…your daughter…”
“She would’ve liked you,” he murmured. A pause, a breath. Then his mouth twisted. “Not her father, though. Not the coward who couldn’t stop them.”
His jaw worked, as though he wanted to deny her words, but failed. For once, he looked less like the Bloodletter and more like a man. Tears stung the corners of Auryn’s eyes, but there was nothing more she could have said on the topic. He tried to move again, but she held fast.
“Please don’t make me keep this secret for you. Kailorien would want to know you’re alright. Iknowit haunts him, the way we left Stonewake.”
Zarrek’s breath hitched. Not loud, but enough for her to feel the movement beneath her cheek. She clung tighter.
“Webelieved you and…Thessia…were dead,” she whispered. “We thought we lost you. And I—I couldn’t even say your name without feeling like I was going to fall apart.”
Slowly, one of his hands came up to rest atop her arm. A rare, careful gesture.
“I’m not ready,” he said after a long pause, voice rough. “And neither is he. Rumor is, he took the Rite of Scars.”
She gasped, looking up at him.
"I know what that magic is. Never thought he'd use it, but if there was ever cause, it's you."
Her tears spilled over.
"He doesn't remember her, Zarrek… Thessia…"
He nodded, grim. "Must've meant a lot to him, for the magic to take her. You'll find a way."
“But —”
“Let me get my footing, little star.” He turned within her hold until they were face to face. His expression was tender in the way only Zarrek could be — one brow lifted, understanding breaking through the intimidating scarred visage of a brutal warrior.
Reskala Elite. A legend. Only after arriving in Krystopolis did Auryn learn about Zarrek’s history and why he was called the Bloodletter. He’d surpassed others in surviving each and every rune added to his Runesgram. Had sired children with Lifegivers long after the runes should have made him unable to. Had lived infinitely longer than the expected thirty-year life span of a typical Reskala.
A man that refused to bend. Refused to break. Refused to die. Yet, one who held space for her. Had spoken with her not from above but from the same level. A friend. A dear, dear friend.
“If it wasn’t your intention to stay, then —”
“Had other plans, but I needed tosee you. That was all. Needed to know the both of you were still alive… still burning.”
“You don’t understand, Zarrek. Weareburning, but not with starlight. This city. This darkness. It’s so much deeper than I could have imagined. Even knowing what I would face, this is—”
She bit her lip. Stopped. Pressed her forehead to Zarrek’s chest.
“I Wove Vargrún,” she whispered, and the words echoed between them as though spoken within a chamber of crystal.
Zarrek tensed against her, and Auryn went on, unable to stop, unable to pause. The words simply flowed, like all her self-restraint had melted from the way his voice had gentled.
“You warned me once, and I never tried it. Not for decades. But Ihad to WeaveKailorien’s runes again. They were snarled. Blocked. He was…he needed my help. So I did it, and Vargrún felt it. Spoke to me. I tried to calm it. Soothe it. But, it saw me. Noticed me. Flowed into me. And now…he speaks.”
Zarrek’s voice grew rough. “It talks to you?”
She nodded against his waist, trembling harder now. “Always. In my mind. Like he lives there. Sometimes cruel, sometimes quiet. But always watching.”
“You told Resh about this?” he demanded.
“No.” Her voice cracked. “He can't know. He won't let me Weave anymore if he finds out. Or worse. He'll think I intended this. That I took a risk without considering the consequences. It would hurt him, and I can’t — not after everything — I only wanted to save him.”
Zarrek pulled her back to look at her face. "Did it work?"
She shook her head. “Every day, Kail looks more exhausted. Like he’s holding back a storm just beneath his skin. If I don't Weave his runes at night...I think he's in pain. I think it's why he doesn't sleep. AndEstâr—”
