“Enough jokes. There’s something else that needs telling,” he said.
Auryn straightened.
Zarrek hesitated, glancing briefly toward Lu’ma.
She had joined them in silence, hands folded in her usual posture of restraint.
“There’s talk in the Lattice,” he said finally.
Auryn frowned. “About the Mandate?”
“No.”
Zarrek shifted his weight.
“Abouther.” His chin tipped toward Lu’ma.
“About Lu’ma?”
Zarrek nodded, and Kailorien crossed his arms over his chest.
“They’re calling her Frayed.”
The word seemed to echo between them. Heavy. Foreboding.
Auryn frowned. “That’s nonsense.”
Zarrek watched Lu’ma for discomfort, but her face remained impassive.
“Nonesense or not, you know what it means. Emotionally compromised. Obsessed.”
Auryn’s lips pursed. “Fraying is an archaic concept in the first place. Attendants are human. Anyone who manages to survive their training and conditioning with their mind intact can be called ‘Frayed’, but all it is…” she stepped to Lu’ma and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “She isn’t Frayed. She is herself.”
Lu’ma tensed in Auryn’s embrace. Her hands moved.
Quick.
Precise.
‘This Nameless requests permission to speak.’
Auryn blinked, surprised by the formality.
“You never need permission.”
Lu’ma’s fingers hesitated. She pressed the ring on her thumb against her palm. A gesture Auryn had grown to recognize as discomfort. Then she began again.
‘This Nameless has not spoken of this before because it was forbidden.’
Auryn’s attentionsharpened.
Lu’ma met her gaze.
‘This Nameless serves another besides you, Your Radiance.’
Zarrek folded his arms, watching silently.
Auryn’s voice remained calm. “What do you mean?”
