Kailorien didn’t flinch. “This is Doctrine, not favor.”
A hiss—softer than a breath. Amusement, perhaps.
At Kailorien's nape, Vargrún stirred.
Careful. You push too hard, too quickly. Though I would love to see him bare his fangs.
Shu’Khan stood. Silken robes rustled as he descended from the dais, gliding more than walking. His feet never seemed to touch the floor. Kailorien kept his gaze fixed on a single point in the dark, hating the sight of his twin—the knowledge that they were bound in blood.
“It is a few decades too late to be calling in Doctrine, is it not?”
“I disagree,” Kailorien said, voice rough.
The leftmost side of the Hall had been shaped into a colossal fluxhearth. Before it stood a thick marble table, carved from a single slab of stone and crystal. Shu’Khan paused there, touching his fingers to the carved runes on the surface. They lit up with a gentle blue glow.
Kailorien raised a brow. “You do not protest?”
“In this case,” Shu’Khan frowned, “you act according to your station. Though you are far too eager to execute Doctrine for someone in defiance of its laws.”
Kailorien shifted his weight between his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“She was pushed,” he said.
Shu’Khan tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
“Yes. Your entourage is…merciless in their play. Unfortunate. Yet she endures all of it in silence. An odd trait of hers. One might think she was made for it.” Another sigh—this one almost fond. “You regret bringing her to the Polis. We can see it.”
Kailorien’s hands curled into fists.
He did.
Void forgive him, he did.
But it wasn’t her he regretted. It was the world he’d brought her into. This pit of snakes.
Shu’Khan moved in a slow arc, a predator in no hurry. “Tell me, Iridias. If you took her to the Surface, where would you go? What corner of the world would not try to claim her? Which faction would not use her body for prophecy, her blood for war, her soul for lightless purpose?”
Kailorien clenched his jaw.
“She is safer here,” Shu’Khan crooned. “Fed. Watched. Preserved.”
“Caged,” Kailorien cut in, the word hollow.
Shu’Khan stopped moving, his robes settling.
“Is that what you call it?”
“She can’t leave.”
“She shouldn’t,” Shu’Khan replied, his tone turning grave. Almost regretful. “She would be devoured. This city is the last kindness we can offer a rare creature like her.”
Kailorien looked away.
He’s right, and I despise him for it.
His hands curled tighter, gloves biting into skin until pain became an anchor.
She’s not safe here. She wouldn’t be safe anywhere. And I—
