35. The Violet Gaze
The Violet Gaze
Three days after the attack in the alleys of the city, Auryn stood near her wardrobe, Lu’ma loosening the heavy clasps of her formal gown.
Each layer fell away with a muted sigh of fabric until the Sokar’s ceremonial weight was gone, leaving only the lighter touch of linen and silk.
She rubbed absently at her bare shoulder, the skin indented from where the dress had rested too long.
Sahtra incense clung to the Resh’Agar’s chamber tonight—sweet resin over sharp stone.
Kailorien sat behind his desk, the lamplight burnishing the black sweep of his hair as he bent over a sheaf of papers.
His quill moved in decisive strokes, each line a signature, an order, a judgment.
Then it stilled—a drop of ink fattening at the nib.
“You’re going to the Commons again.”
“I need to see it,” she said. “That alley. The magic is already fading.”
“But the blood hasn’t,” he cautioned. “Nor has the scent of it.”
She glanced at him through her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. “You know that doesn’t trouble me, love.”
“I’m aware,” he confirmed. “And that is what troubles me. Auryn, you were nearly killed. If Zarrek hadn’t come when he did—”
“I’d take you with me if I could.” She smiled—a touch manipulative, knowing full well her teasing often disarmed him when he was being overprotective.
He gave a humorless huff. His desk was drowning in orders that wouldn’t wait for morning. He was grounded, and he knew it well.
“I am not going as the Sokar, and having the Resh’Agar on the arm of an unknown woman will set tongues to blazing.”
He sighed.
Tired.
Weary.
A line cut deeper between his brows.
Little one, you try my patience.
Don’t I always? I thought that was why you loved me.
He glared at her brightening smile and the mischief in her eyes.
I do love when you call me that.
He raised a brow. And here I thought you objected to being seen as small.
That isn't what you mean when you say it.
She turned to him.
When you say it like that, I feel…treasured.
The Bond glowed between them, but his worry remained beneath the joy of her confession.
“And you’ll go without Reskala?" he asked aloud. "Can you not wait? I’ve chosen replacements for you. I’m going for the inspection in a few days.”
“I’ll be careful,” she replied, stepping free of Lu’ma’s hands.
The alley tugged at her the way stale magic did when it threatened to slough into nothing. If she waited, the city would eat its own tracks. She would lose the trail. Kailorien knew this too. He just didn’t want to admit that the answers they sought were important enough to risk her safety.
Her commoner’s robes hung loose, the faded hem brushing the thin dress beneath.
She crossed the room toward him, the rustle of cloth a quiet rebellion.
Kailorien turned in his chair, and she stepped between his knees without hesitation.
His arm curved around her waist, tugging her closer until the edge of his desk pressed into her hip.
She wrapped her arms around his neck; he leaned into her, pressing his ear to her chest as if the cadence of her heart could steady him.
“I cannot wait even another day,” she murmured. “The magic won’t remember forever. It’s already been too long.”
He let out a low breath, warming the silk over her sternum. “You’re looking for clues about the Gliders,” he said, “but Auryn—” his voice deepened, “they’re dangerous. Unpredictable. Volatile.”
“No one will see me,” she promised. “I’ll arrive around the hour of Curfew, when Reskala are posted at every corner looking for excitement to brighten their dull patrols. If needed, I will call them for support.”
Her reassurance didn’t have the intended effect. Instead of looking hopeful, the line between his brows intensified. “The Solutus don’t care about Curfew. They’ve been more active lately. More daring.”
She nodded, pressing her cheek against his temple. “I’ve felt the tremors from their bombs. I’ve seen you come home covered in ash and blood. Even the Council can’t avoid motions on Reskala deployment now.”
He agreed. Every new vote meant another round of briefings, another District to pacify before nightfall. And with the Cycle of Dark encroaching, Riftwatch would be added to that list.
Kail…this is why we can’t stop. If the Gliders are moving through the Cataclyss, that means the Solutus are as well. How else are they moving between Districts if not through hidden tunnels?
But why must you be the one to seek those answers? Am I not enough?
You are.
She kissed his temple. Then the line between his brows.
But you carry too much already. You disappear for days sometimes, lost between training new recruits, searching for the Solutus, supporting when they set another market or temple ablaze.
Too many fronts. Too many fires. The city is always burning somewhere.
You cannot be everywhere at once, Kailorien.
He didn’t move for a long moment, his head resting against her chest, his arms heavy with reluctance. He released her only enough to meet her gaze.
I won’t stop you. But I will worry until you return.
Don’t. I promise, all will be well. I won’t go for long. Just enough to scan the area with my Weave. After we are finished, we will take a portal straight back here.
Auryn smoothed her hands over his shoulders, feeling the taut lines of muscle beneath his tunic.
“I’ve been wondering,” she said, “how the Gliders have come to the city. Had they entered through the Veinroads, the Council would have known about them as a diplomatic envoy. These attackers, however…” her eyes narrowed, “did not have diplomacy in mind.”
Kailorien was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting past her shoulder as though weighing how much truth to give her. “Gliders have come and gone from the city without diplomatic sanction for centuries,” he said at last. “They’ve never been hostile—at least not to those of holy blood.”
“We have a treaty with them—”
“On parchment,” he cut in, his arms tightening around her waist. “They are creatures of formality. Ritual. Law. Until their pride is challenged. Or their gods. When that boundary is crossed, they are fierce and territorial. Proud to a fault, so much that it often blinds their sense.”
The lamplight caught the sharp blue of his eyes, and for a heartbeat the shadow of memory loomed there—a secret untold. She reached up, brushing her fingers along the line of his jaw.
“All the more reason I need to understand why they came here. And why they came for me.”
“They knew of you,” he recalled, “before we even came to the city. One of them came to Stonewake. At the time, I brushed it off as curiosity. Their Matriarch often likes to dig her talons into the business of others.” His gaze held hers.
“But they must have been following you. Keeping an eye on how you’ve changed. The things you’ve accomplished.”
“I haven’t done anything of note,” Auryn insisted.
“You have,” he kissed the back of her hand. “You’ve challenged laws and systems that have been in place for lifetimes.”
“Perhaps I’ve done some things that have made the Council sweat, but what does that have to do with the Gliders?” She frowned. “They’re on the Surface, so far from here that most living couldn’t even imagine the journey.”
“I’ve made the journey regularly,” he smirked.
She slapped his arm playfully. “You are the Resh’Agar. Your Campaigns are legend. Most in Krystopolis cannot even fathom leaving their District, let alone the city.”
They fell silent again, and Kailorien’s smile faded first. “Auryn, all humor aside, if the Gliders have come to the city, if they’ve stepped out of anonymity to attack you…then we are dealing with something I’ve never experienced before.”
“Does something feel different this time?”
He nodded.
“Our truce with them has always been half-hearted, but it commanded mutual respect. Krystopolis influences much of what happens on the Surface. All know the Resh’Agar. All know the Flaeme. And now—more and more are learning of the Sokar.”
Auryn thought back to the letter from her contact in the Selen District. Of the warning there.
‘The whispers say they hunt alone, but when they gather, it is for bounty, glory, legend. And that they have marked you.’
She took a step forward, leaning into Kailorien, her hands tightening over the buckles of his armor. He sensed her need. Met it with a gentle touch to her back that transformed into steady languid circles of his hand there.
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise. But I need to understand the new threat within our cage.”
Kailorien’s hand halted its soothing path, a faint furrow creasing his brow.
“They’re nightblind,” he said, hating that he had to give her weapons for a battle he didn’t want her to fight. “Most Gliders are, save for the Apexwings. It will be dark. You will have an advantage. Keep your hood up, and have Lu’ma braid your hair tight so it doesn’t catch the light.”
He smoothed his fingers down the golden braid on her shoulder.
“Apex,” Auryn echoed. “Zarrek mentioned them, too. Said they were even more dangerous than those that came for me.”
Kailorien nodded. “Apex do not leave the Nestings. They are an elite bloodline, bred for war. But with their endless conflict fighting the Shades, they have their hands too full to scout for rumors.”
Auryn paused, dark memories resurfacing as though from a long-lost dream. “The ones that attacked at Stonewake,” she said. “Were they Apex?”
Kailorien shook his head. “Talonstrides. Apexwings have tails and are much larger.”
She pressed in closer. “They attacked us in the dark.”
He took a few moments to sit in that memory with her. Relive it. Brace her against the pain haunting them both. “That was different,” he assured her. “Many Strides can see at night. But the Matriarch wouldn’t send them here, either. They are the bulk of their forces in war.”
“You know so much about them,” Auryn observed, cupping his face with her hands. “It frightens me, sometimes, how much of the world you’ve seen.”