“After all…he does adore you so.”
A pause. Just long enough for her heart to stutter.
“Would it not pain him,” Shu’Khan whispered, “if he found out…another way?”
She took a step back. Not out of fear. Not exactly. But the air around him had thickened, shimmering with something too vast, too knowing. He watched her—eyes unreadable, lips curved with a near-smile—and then turned back to the hearth.
“Ask yourself, Sokâr,” he said, voice low and liquid, “why you fear telling him the truth.”
The flames licked higher behind him. Their glow caught the sharp lines of his profile, casting his face half in shadow.
“But do tell him…”
A beat. A breath.
“…orIwill.”
33
In Quiet Revelation
The door of the Hall of the Destroyer clicked shut behind Auryn. She walked aimlessly down the long, dim hall, each step heavier than the last. The shimmer of her mana dragged behind her like an unraveling veil. Her fingers scraped the polished stone as she passed, as if the wall alone could anchor her in place.
She didn’t make it far.
Just beyond the curve of the lattice corridor, she collapsed against the wall. Her knees gave. The cold of the floor soaked through her robes. She folded inward, trembling, hands clenched into the folds of her sleeves. Shaking, breath hitched high in her throat.
She barely noticed the sound of fluttering robes settling beside her.
Lu’ma. Silent. Still. Her presence like moonlight—not intrusive, just steady. The Attendant crouched and took Auryn’s hands in both of hers. Her palms were warm. Grounding.
Auryn’s voice cracked, brittle as bone. “Please,” she whispered, “help me bathe.”
Lu’ma did not question. She only nodded once, then waited. After her knees felt more sure, Auryn stood up and straightened her skirts. Lu’ma checked the surrounding area for fallen hair. There was still a long ways to go before she reached Kailorien’s wing, and Auryn did her best to don her Sokâr’s regal visage.
She forced herself to walk with grace and poise. Hurrying through the halls was unseemly, a behavior for Attendants, not those of holy blood. Several Councilors passed her in the halls, and she nodded to them. But, for the most part, their journey was undisturbed.
The moment they crossed the threshold into the Resh’Agar’s wing, Lu’ma began preparations for a bath. Auryn always bathed after seeing the Sovereign Flame. The scent of his Sahtra was too unique—too obvious. It lingered, clung to clothing and skin, even after standing beside him for a short time.
This routine was familiar. Over the last several years, Shu’Khan summoned her more and more frequently. But Kailorien’s hatred for his brother had never diminished. Since the time when Shu’Khan had attempted to give her raw mana, it had only grown. He frequently warned her about trusting him in any manner, and she’d always promised to take care.
So how could she tell Kailorien that she called Shu’Khan ‘Father’ in secret? How could she tell him that the progress she’d made in researching his Runesgram was only possible because of the rare tomes Shu’Khan sent her as gifts? Or that her growing autonomy as the Sokâr was possible thanks to Shu’Khan’s support in the shadows?
He gave her portal clearance without formal application. Decreed her immune to Curfew. Funneled additional Gleams towards her various projects for the Commons and the Temples. Even advised her as to which Councilors could be pushed in session to give their votes for her cause.
Tell him, Auryn—or I will.
Shall I tell him before either of you?
Vargrún’s voice curledinside her skull like smoke through a keyhole, cold and damp against the edges of her mind. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickled.
Auryn did not respond. Was determined not to respond ever again. One way or another, she would find a way to rid herself of Vargrún’s whispering. Until then, she must keep her emotions in check. Keep herself to a higher standard.
For now…
For now, she needed to washhissmell off of her.
When Lu’ma approached to help her into the bath, Auryn followed without a word. She stripped out of her gown, instructing Lu’ma to take it to the Servitor for immediate cleaning. The Attendant nodded. This was routine, too. Though every time Auryn made the request—every time Lu’ma had to hide a scroll or arrange for secret baths like this—she wore the same disapproving expression.
