53. The Quiet Places #2
“Lu’ma,” she smiled. “You are an inspiration.”
Zarrek snorted. “She’ll survive.”
Kailorien’s mouth curved at the corners.
Auryn rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.
They took shelter from the oppressive heat in the arched entryway to the Resh’Agar’s wing.
Auryn leaned her back against the cool stone with a sigh as Lu’ma slid her training blade back into its rack with careful precision then wiped sweat from her body with one of the towels they’d brought to the ring.
Zarrek followed, wiping the back of his neck before crossing the courtyard toward them.
“Your Veilstep’s improving,” he said to Auryn as he approached.
“High praise from the Bloodletter,” she teased.
“It would be higher if you weren’t announcing it with your entire body first.”
Auryn glared, glancing at Kailorien. He shrugged.
“I did warn you.”
She gave Zarrek a withering look. “Both of you are cruel.”
Zarrek’s mouth twitched.
“Just saying it like I see it, little star. Anyone with eyes can tell when you’re about to vanish. Already got you in plenty of trouble at the Path of Fire, didn't it?”
Zarrek rested one forearm against the wall beside them, his expression turning more serious.
“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.
“About her.” 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 attention sharpened.
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?”
Lu’ma’s hands moved slowly now.
Deliberately.
‘This Nameless belongs to the Unspoken Choir.’
Auryn couldn’t recall the name or what it meant. Kailorien spoke for the first time since the training ended.
“A rumor that has circulated through the Lattice for centuries,” he said quietly. “A network of Attendants who observe and report to the Solutus.”
Lu’ma inclined her head.
‘The Choir watches. Listens. Gathers truths others overlook.’
Auryn studied her for a long moment. “And you’ve been reporting things about me?”
‘For many years,’ Lu’ma signed.
A few beats of silence passed. Zarrek’s shoulders had tensed. Beside her, Kailorien stood stiff.
How long have you known?
For some time.
She didn’t trust me…
She was protecting you.
We both know silence protects nothing.
Spare her your pride, starlight. She has not learned such a lesson yet.
Auryn sighed. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”
Lu’ma’s hands moved again, but Auryn stopped her.
“It’s alright. I am not angry. Only a little…surprised.” Auryn rubbed the bridge of her nose. Lu’ma’s expression didn’t change, but her tension was palpable.
At last, Auryn looked up.
“Lu’ma,” her tone softened. “You have stood beside me through things most in this city cannot even imagine.”
She gestured toward the courtyard.
“You trained with me when I could barely hold a blade. You sat with me through nights when the magic inside me nearly tore me apart. Brought me tea. Meals. Helped me bathe. Followed me when I walked in my sleep.”
Auryn shook her head.
“If you were going to slip a knife in my back, you’ve had countless opportunities.”
Lu’ma lowered her gaze, but Auryn took both of her hands before shame could bloom in her eyes.
“I trust you, my friend,” she said.
The words settled like a vow, and Auryn reached up to touch the golden braid at her shoulder. Her chest ached when her fingers touched the violet ribbon there.
“Once,” she said. “Someone taught me that family was not about bloodlines and lineage. It comes from actions. From loyalty. If there is such a thing as family, you are part of mine, Lu’ma.”
For several moments, the Attendant’s expression remained passive. But in a blink, a fine moisture welled in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, and Auryn squeezed her hand.
“But,” Auryn added gently, “we will need to discuss the Choir in more depth. If the Solutus have infiltrated the Lattice…” She took a steadying breath. “That knowledge could become extremely dangerous.”
Zarrek pushed off the wall. “That brings me to the second rumor. The missing Godblind.”
The temperature in the air dropped as though a block of ice had settled between the four of them. Kailorien’s gaze sharpened. Lu’ma stood straighter.
“You’ve found something,” Kailorien said.
“Not exactly.” Zarrek made a sound of frustration. “But I’ve heard whispers.” He glanced toward Kailorien. “Solutus prisoners from the Han.”
“The ones we captured months ago?” Kailorien asked.
Zarrek shook his head. “The Reskala have been taking prisoners for the smallest offense. They’ll be setting an example.”
Auryn went still. “None have been brought to trial. They’re moving prisoners through the city without informing us?”
Zarrek’s voice lowered. “That’s because Council plans to Purify ‘em.”
Auryn’s hands clenched into fists.
“Purification requires authorization from both the Resh’Agar and Sokar,” she said. “If they’re preparing it without consultation—”
Her words halted. Something about all of this felt incomplete, like a painting with missing colors.
“They’re planning something.”
Zarrek didn’t answer.
Lu’ma’s hands moved slowly beside them.
‘Danger gathers in quiet places.’
Auryn stared toward the distant skyline of Krystopolis, where the mirrored towers of the Iliri District glittered in the afternoon light.
Her unease returned.
Stronger this time.
And somewhere deep within her mind, Vargrún growled.
You have climbed too high, little ember. Now, they will cut at you in any way they can. Look to what you value most, and you will see the gaze of your enemy upon it.