Void help him.
He kissed her damp cheek, her jaw, her temple again, whispering between each press, “I’m here. I’m here.”
Auryn’s sobs raked themselves raw until they broke into hiccupping gasps. Her hands slid slack against his chest. Exhaustion claimed her at last, her body folding into his arms, still trembling even in sleep. Kailorien held her tighter, unwilling to let her go even for a breath. He smoothed a hand down her hair, lips pressed to her crown, whispering nonsense—just sound, just warmth—until the silence stretched long enough to sting.
The door creaked.
He lifted his head, every muscle ready to snap, but it was only Lu’ma. Bare feet soundless on the stone. Her dark eyes went at once to Auryn’s limp form in his arms. She hesitated, then shaped the question with quiet precision—'Another night of walking?'
Kailorien’s first instinct was to deny her entry, to guard this moment like a secret wound. He couldn’t explain this. Couldn’t give it words nor trust another soul with its truth.
So he lied.
He met Lu’ma’s gaze, steady, and nodded once. “Yes.”
Her expression softened into understanding. She didn’t question it. She never did. She only inclined her head and slipped back toward the hearth. Her hands moved with the memory of routine — setting the pot, steeping the herbs. The tea she brewed for Auryn after her sleepwalking nights.
Kailorien watched her, silent, his thumb still stroking Auryn’s damp cheek. He did not stop her even as Auryn sagged into him, boneless with exhaustion, her lashes clumped with tears. Her breaths stuttered against his chest, but they slowed, little by little, until she slipped under.
The soft clink of pottery drew his gaze. Lu’ma set the steaming cup near the hearth, her signs measured, gentle—'It has been some time since Her Radiance has screamed like this. Your Quintessence soothes her fears.'
Not tonight. This night he was the reason for them.
Lu’ma placed the tea on the bedside table with a careful hand—'This must be because of the Path of Fire. Her Radiance worries.'
Kailorien’s throat constricted. He couldn’t reply, so he merely nodded.
The Attendant’s hands moved—'Her Radiance likes to drink it cold. This Nameless is always here if needed.'
Kailorien inclined his head in silent thanks. She withdrew without another sound, leaving him in the hush of the chamber. He adjusted Auryn in his arms, tucking the blanket around her shoulders, brushing damp hair from her face. His lips lingered on her brow.
For a moment, the hush of the chamber felt safe. But then his hand drifted, unbidden, scratching at the nape of his neck — at the place where the Master Rune pulsed beneath skin.
A voice coiled through the silence, low and amused.
Did you really think you could live here, with her, without consequence? The closer you are to the Flaeme, the closer you are to my fangs.
Kailorien’s breath stopped. His hand stilled.
He pulled Auryn tighter into his arms, hoping the strength of his hold alone could bar the teeth already grazing his soul.
45
Mirrored Envy
Two days passed in a blur.
Training with Kailorien and Zarrek.
Archery practice until her fingers bled.
Veilstepping until exhaustion gnawed at her bones.
And not a word spoken to Kailorien about that night.
Still touching. Still kissing. Still laying together and holding each other.
Floating and sighing as he made love to her and shared his breath.
