Chapter 11 #2
I nod once, more for the sake of agreement than anything else. Though I do wonder when exactly it was that he’s observed me without realising. “Turns out not feeling like I’ve been run over helps with that.”
Jamie huffs. “Revolutionary.”
“But you flinched before.”
Caly’s observation sinks in quietly, but it cuts through the ease of the moment all the same. My smile holds. It doesn’t falter, doesn’t drop—but something underneath it turns forced before I can stop it.
“Reflex,” I say, the answer smooth and automatic. “Big unknown thing gets in your face, turns out your body reacts. Wild concept.”
Jamie nods straight away. “Yeah, fair. I would’ve done the same.”
Caly doesn’t contradict him. He doesn’t agree either. Instead, he simply watches me, his gaze steady and knowing in a way that makes it clear he’s not buying the surface-level explanation. He doesn’t push, though. Doesn’t pry or press for more.
He just… registers it. Stores it. And that, somehow, feels worse.
I hold his gaze for a moment longer than I should, then look away first, shifting my weight as if I’ve just grown restless rather than uncomfortable. Because the truth is, that reaction didn’t come from nowhere.
It never does.
It’s old. Worn into me deep enough that it doesn’t need permission to surface. Instinct built on years of learning how to anticipate, how to brace, how to react before something lands.
Don’t let it get close.
Don’t give it the chance.
The thought flickers but is gone almost as quickly as it comes—but not before it leaves a trace behind. I inhale slowly, grounding myself, forcing the tension back down before it can take hold properly.
Not here.
Not now.
“Anyway,” I say, injecting just enough casual ease into my tone to smooth over the shift, “you two planning on analysing me all day, or is there an actual point to this?”
The bond shifts in response. It isn’t dramatic, but it’s immediate—a subtle twisting low in my chest, like a thread drawing my attention in a specific direction. The awareness comes over me without urgency, without alarm, but with a clarity that cuts through everything else.
Varek is aware and focused on me.
The flicker under my ribs eases, the uncomfortable edge of old instinct dulling as something steadier moves in to take its place. Warmth follows, reassuring and solid, like a presence that doesn’t need to announce itself to be felt.
I exhale, not realising I’d been holding the breath.
Right. That’s… new, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe I’ve just stopped fighting it.
“I’m gonna go find him,” I say, already stepping back.
Jamie blinks, thrown off by the sudden shift. “Already?”
“Yeah.”
“You were just getting interesting.”
“I’m always interesting.”
“Debatable.”
I huff a quiet laugh, but my focus has already shifted. The pull is stronger now, clearer, and I don’t see a reason to ignore it.
Caly watches me again, more intensely this time. “You’re leaving because of him,” he says.
It isn’t a question, and I don’t treat it like one.
“Yeah.”
Something in his expression shifts, like that confirms a theory he’s been working through. “That makes sense,” he says.
Jamie looks between us, clearly missing whatever just passed. “Right. Cool. Guess we’ll just stay here and be incredibly entertaining without you.”
“Try not to reorganise anything by texture,” I throw over my shoulder.
Caly’s smile is slow, deliberate. “No promises.”
I shake my head, already moving. “You’re both a liability.”
“We’re awesome that way!” Jamie calls after me.
I lift a hand in vague acknowledgement, moving towards the outer boundary of the settlement. The path is familiar now, but I barely register it. The bond does most of the work, guiding me without effort.
The closer I get, the stronger the awareness becomes.
I step out into the brighter stretch beyond the settlement and find him already there.
Varek stands a short distance ahead, as though he had anticipated exactly where I would emerge. The light catches the contours of his body, picking out the shifting tones of his skin and the faint glow of markings that seem more pronounced out here.
He looks composed, but the moment his gaze finds me, something shifts.
It’s subtle, but I feel it through the bond before I fully see it—relief loosening through him, followed closely by a thread of concern that anchors his attention firmly on me.
His eyes move over me in a single, thorough pass, taking in everything. Not just a glance, not just recognition—it’s more an assessment… a confirmation that I’m standing, moving, breathing the way I should be.
“You are well?” he asks.
The words are simple, but the weight behind them isn’t.
“I’m good,” I answer, nodding once.
His gaze doesn’t waver. The bond hums again, a low, steady presence that brushes against the remnants of that earlier tension and smooths it out without effort. “You were not,” he says.
It isn’t phrased as a question. He already knows.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. “Just… old habits,” I admit.
The words feel heavier than they should, but not wrong.
His expression firms slightly in understanding. He steps closer, closing some of the space between us without crowding it. The warmth of him becomes more tangible, something I can feel without needing to reach for it. “You are safe here,” he says quietly.
The statement takes hold, and for a moment, the instinct pushes back. That old, ingrained part of me that’s learned not to rely on anyone but myself comes to life, testing the edges of that certainty.
But the bond doesn’t falter. It anchors deeper, steady and unwavering, reinforcing something I’m still learning how to accept.
“Yeah,” I say, quieter now, the word carrying more weight than before. “I know.”
The word descends between us, quiet but solid. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air holds, not tense exactly, but full—of everything that’s shifted between us in the past few days, of everything still easing into place.
I glance at him again, taking in how he’s still focused on me, the attention unchanged despite me saying I’m fine.
It sticks.
“Why were you gone this morning?” I ask.
Varek doesn’t look away. “I was required elsewhere,” he says.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “That’s vague.”
“It is accurate.”
I huff a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re going to be one of those, aren’t you?”
“One of what?”
“Technically correct and deeply unhelpful.”
There’s the faintest shift at the corner of his mouth. It’s an almost smile, one I’m beginning to feel far too invested in.
“I did not wish to wake you,” he adds after a moment, voice quieter now. “You required rest.”
I nod once, accepting it for what it is, even if I know there’s more sitting behind it. He seemed unsettled last night.
“Fair,” I say. Then, after a beat, I ask, “Anything from Aelith?”
His expression stills slightly. “No.”
I exhale slowly, glancing out past him towards the city. It’s not at all visible from here, but it’s always present in the back of my mind.
“Right,” I mutter. “Figured as much.”
Silence stretches for a second, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just… thinking space. Then I shift my weight and start walking, angling myself to head along the outer path without really deciding to. Varek falls easily into step beside me, matching my pace without comment.
“I know it’s not safe to go back,” I say after a moment, my gaze fixed ahead. “Not right now. Not after… everything.”
That’s putting it lightly.
Capture, interrogation, and a public exchange that probably has half the Crown’s attention locked onto anything even vaguely suspicious are not exactly ideal conditions for slipping back into the city unnoticed.
“But,” I continue, “there are still people there who need help. Riftborn who rely on the routes, on the supplies, on…” I exhale, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “On me, apparently.”
I don’t say it like it’s a good thing. I don’t say it like it’s not.
Varek listens without interrupting. He doesn’t rush in or try to solve it before I’ve finished.
“I’m not saying we start moving people again,” I add quickly. “That’d be stupid right now. Too risky. But food’s a different story.”
He glances at me, his attention locked in.
“I’ve got contacts,” I go on. “Not rebels. Not directly. People who owe me. People who can move things without drawing attention if it’s done right.
” I pause, turning slightly towards him as the idea locks into place the more I verbalise it.
“We get a message to them. Quietly. Ask them to step in where they can. Keep people fed, at least until things settle enough for movement again.”
Varek is quiet for a moment after I finish, clearly thinking. “You trust them,” he finally says.
It’s not a question.
I nod. “Yeah. I do.”
Another beat passes before he inclines his head slightly. “It’s a sound strategy.”
Something in my chest loosens at that. Not because I needed his approval, but because he listened. Actually listened.
He didn’t override it or reshape it. Nor did he take it out of my hands.
“Yeah?” I say, a little lighter.
“Yes,” he replies. “It mitigates risk while maintaining support. It is… efficient.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Look at that. I’ve impressed the warlord.”
“You have done so before.”
He says it is matter-of-fact, but there’s something warmer threaded through it.
I glance at him sideways. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
I look away again, clearing my throat slightly, more than aware that my neck is heating at his praise. “Right. Well. Don’t get used to it.”
“I will not.”
That almost pulls another laugh out of me.
We walk in easy silence for a few minutes after that, the path curving slightly as we move along the edge of the settlement. The sounds of Dathanor hum faintly behind us—movement, voices, life continuing in that steady, constant way it always does.