“We question whether your Sokâr does.”
Kailorien’s held his breath.
“We have no objections.”
“Even if you did,” Kailorien ground out at last, each word jagged as broken glass, “I would not entertain them.”
A pause.
“You are dismissed, Iridias.”
As Kailorien turned to leave, Vargrún spoke again in his mind:
Does he know that your devotion never existed without obsession in the first place?
9
Waking Dream
The door to his personal quarters whispered shut behind him, the wardlight flaring once to acknowledge his presence. Kailorien stood in the dim glow, unmoving, his jaw still locked from the conversation that clung to him like ash after a blaze.
Shu’Khan’s voice hadn’t left his ears. It rarely did. His brother. His twin. Yet they could not be more different.
From beyond the carved lattice that divided the chambers, a sound rose—gentle water, the quiet rustle of cloth, and the unmistakable chime of laughter.
Auryn with Lu’ma, perhaps in the bath. He could picture it now—steam curling over mosaic tile, her silver hair trailing over porcelain shoulders. That laughter was fleeting peace both Auryn and her Attendant rarely touched.
He let them have it.
Crossing the room, he stripped off his gauntlets and chest plate, then rolled his sleeves, sitting at his desk with deliberate slowness. The lacquered surface bore scratch marks—tiny gouges from where he’d pressed too hard the last time he wrote in anger.
Tonight, he would not let his hand shake. Not when the stakes had changed.
He drew a fresh piece of parchment and began to write.
To the High Council of Krystopolis – Motion Addendum
Pursuant to Article IV of the Resh’Agar's Decree, and with affirmation of the Sovereign Flame, I submit the following directives regarding protection protocols for the Sokâr:
A minimum of six elite Reskala shall be assigned to the Sokâr’s designated wing at all times. These shall be chosen from the stock of warriors who bear no fewer than ten major runes. No fewer than two shall accompany her during transit throughout the Lattice or public sectors of the city.
These appointed guards shall report solely to the Resh’Agar and be barred from any conflicting commands by other offices, wings, or Companions.
Any obstruction of this order shall be considered a violation of Shield integrity and subject to immediate review.
Signed,
Iridias Savarax, the Resh’Agar
He sealed it, pressed the signet deep into wax, and exhaled. Stillness tried to settle in his chest, but never quite managed it. Soft footsteps padded across the stone behind him. He didn’t have to look. Her presence awakened his senses like light before sunrise.
She crossed to him, fresh from the bath, a silken robe draped over her shoulders. Her hair was braided down her back, still damp and fragrant with oils he didn’t recognize. The bruises on her jaw had faded to faint shadows. One thin golden braid threaded with violet ribbon rested over her shoulder, at odds with the rest of her silver locks.
She looked like herself again, though the moment the thought crossed his mind, he flinched from it. What did he know about her true self? He could hardly remember how they'd traveled together on the Moores.Could barely recall the siege of Stonewake and how they'd escaped into the Veinroads.
He rose. Neither as a commander nor the Resh’Agar. Just a man who had missed her. His hand lifted to cup her face, thumb grazing the freckles on her cheek as if to confirm she was real.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured, voice low. “Have you eaten?”
