The Riven’s hand stopped.
Not by force.
Byvow.
His pupils narrowed.
“Not taken…given…” he said. “The Lioness’s magic lives…”
The alley fell into a strange, suspended silence. Even the distant murmur of the Commons receded, swallowed in the gravity—the weight—of that truth.
Auryn could hardly breathe. Her resolve, her mask, her pride—even her fury—shattered all at once, broken on the rocks of those few simple words.
Her voice, when it came, was no longer the Sokâr’s.
“Rö…did you see her…? You were at Stonewake…Kai—the Resh'Agar said as much…did youseeher?”
Quiet. Trembling. Terrified now, not of the Riven’s talons but of the truth he would speak next. Her eyes stung, but could not have stopped the tears that begged to fall. For too long already — for too many decades — she’d held back her grief.
“Is she alive?” she whispered. “Thessia…is she alive?”
The Riven’s eyes fixed on the ribbon.
On the golden braid.
On the certainty he could no longer deny.
And in that single moment of distraction…
He forgot that silence was safer than truth.
He spoke.
“The lioness was whole when I took her from the battle at Stonewake,” he said.
The words fell between them before he could stop them.
“Injured…but able to recover.”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
“She lived…”
Hope—sharp and fragile—cut through her chest. She tried to lift her hand. To touch the braid like she so often did when the world felt far too heavy to carry without the Lioness at her side. But the Riven held her immobile. Helpless.
“You helped her,” she said, her voice unsteady now. “Unless—unless you arelying…”
And to her frustration, she did not know if he was. Her intuition, when faced with the depths of his violet gaze, lay dormant.
A beat as his hand moved away from the ribbon.
“The Riven does not lie,” he said, and something in him changed, then.
His sharp features were no longer fierce, but resigned. His colossal wings flared, his tail feathers shuddering. He removed the glaive from her throat and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm.
