With time, his weight grew heavy, sleep claiming him at last.
And Auryn stayed.
Because he was her home.
Her hearth.
Her everything.
Steam still curled in the corners of the chamber, clinging to her skin as Auryn came back to the world once again. She didn’t know how much time had passed, only that she’d sat cradling her dark-haired warrior in her arms as long as the world would allow. When the water cooled, she warmed it with magic. When the Lustrals faded, she Wove more life into them again.
During that time, Lu’ma had come in carrying a tray of food. It lay untouched beside her, the contents now cold.
She didn’t dare to move.
Didn’t dare to disturb her Resh’Agar’s repose.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Out of the ache that pierced her chest when she thought back to all the times he returned from battle, covered in blood and ash and dirt, only to steal a quick bath and sit down at his desk to sift through papers that needed his attention. He carried the Shields, and so he carried the People. Their safety. Their stability.
These stolen moments of deep sleep were more precious than Gleams, or gold, or any of the treasures hidden in the Umbral Archives. Kailorien slept so very rarely, and when he did, she guarded his rest with the fierce devotion of a dragon in its nest.
Unfortunate that you cannot guard him from me, emberling. Do not forget. He carries the wolf inside of him, howling in his ear, reminding him that he has no right to mortality when he bleeds gold and growls with my voice.
Auryn flinched, but did not answer. Vargrún loved to catch her at her weakest moments, though lately he at least had the decency to keep his silence when she and Kailorien cut out time for one another.
Decency? You speak of me as though I have a will. A purpose. Yet, the world would call me madness. Ruin. You alone believe there is more to me than cruelty.
Auryn gritted her teeth. When he began to speak this way, there was no escaping him. With utmost reluctance, she moved.
But Kailorien did not stir. Sleep had taken him in full—his weight heavy, his breathing deep—and for another long moment she simply sat, watching the lines of his face in the lamplight. Time slipped again, and the magic of the Lustrals thinned to a faint mist when she finally coaxed Kailorien from the water.
He was heavy with reluctance, pliant in her hands as she toweled his hair and guided him to the chair by the window. She held him there, his head tipped back, breath slow and even, wanting so desperately to stay in this quiet forever. The city could tear itself apart with politics and silken lies. Councilors could weave hypocrisy into ceremony and call it grace.But here, in her arms, there was nothing of that. Only the man. Only the truth.
And me, little ember. I am his truth. And yours.
With that reminder came other memories. Of the ceremony earlier. The lavish balconies, the feasting, and the music. The scent of Sahtra smoke still clung to the walls, the faint echo of the crowd from the Pouring of Grace creeping in through the stone.
The world would not wait for her to be ready to face it.
She brushed her lips against Kailorien’s cheek and let him return to the world at his own pace, padding back to her wardrobe. Her hair was still braided and tied up in intricate tight ropes atop her head. She stepped to the mirror and began undoing all of Lu’ma’s hard work, pulling on a comfortable silk robe and clean underthings.
By the time she had dressed and worked through most of the knots, memories of the murmurs of the guests at the Pouring pressed at the edges of her mind in an unbearable swell, her thoughts replaying every hesitant step the new Companion had taken toward the Resh’Agar.
She glanced over. Kailorien was still in the chair by the window, the Polis light casting gold and emerald flickers over his bare chest. The runes on his skin still shimmered white. Still hers.
He’d donned a pair of loose black trousers, but didn’t seem to be in a hurry to continue dressing. Dark hair fell over his brow as he leaned back. He could look impossibly still when he wanted to, like the room was builtaroundhim. Like he’d arrived long before anything else in the world knew what shape to take.
Auryn hesitated, then, “She’s terrified of you. The new Companion.”
He turned his head towards her, his eyes still soft. His brow lifted, a slow, deliberate motion. “As I said before, you are the only one that isn’t.”
“That’s different.” She crossed the room, hands curling at her sides. “She’s young. Naive. If someone doesn’t shield her, she’ll be devoured.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You want me to intervene.”
“I want you to show her subtle favor,” she said. “Nothing blatant. A token, a gift. Something the others will recognize.”
The corner of his mouth curved, predatory and amused. Her heart skipped at the heat in his eyes. “And you’re certain you want that? You’re all right with me putting my mark on another woman?”
