Chapter 11 Darkening Skies #2
Kailorien stilled, heart suddenly thrumming. Without question, he adjusted his hold—lifting her higher in his arms. Her fingers brushed his jaw, then his cheek, finally finding the teardrop emerald hanging from his ear. She wrapped her hand around it. Sighed. Nestled closer.
“You’re—does she do that—?”
“Always,” he said, unable to keep his voice from softening.
“Kailorien,” Auryn whispered.
He tilted his head toward her, voice lowered to a hush.
“I’m here,” he murmured.
A pause.
Then, dreamlike and without warning, she mumbled, “Don’t make me wear shoes.”
Thessia made a stunned sound—half scoff, half breath. “What?”
But Kailorien only smiled. “She does that too.”
He shifted her weight in his arms, tucking her closer.
“Don’t tell Zarrek,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s insufferable as is.”
Thessia gave a small, incredulous laugh. “Stars preserve me,” she murmured. “You’re gone.”
Carrying Auryn to the cot, he knelt and lowered her with careful precision. As he moved to draw the blanket over her, fingers caught at the collar of his tunic—insistent even in sleep.
She wouldn’t let go.
He paused, staring down at the pale curve of her hand against the black of his armor. He uncurled her fingers one by one, tucking her hand beneath the blanket then lifting it to kiss the inside of her wrist. A silent promise. She sighed in her sleep and turned toward him.
He stood and was not prepared to look at Thessia. Not yet. He just watched the rhythm of Auryn’s breath, the way her hand pressed near the curve of her jaw, as if still cradling something in sleep. The comfort of her presence surrounded him, beckoning.
But duty lingered at the edge of the tent.
He straightened his shoulders, turned toward Thessia, and commanded: “Report.”
She exhaled. Shifted her stance.
“Varkhound sightings are increasing. Packs three times the usual size. My scouts say the larger ones are starting to move with purpose.” She folded her arms. “There’s something stirring them. We haven’t seen fresh rift blooms, but the land’s acting like it expects one.”
He nodded. “You saw signs near the Wette?”
“Northwestern edge. We’ll lose travel paths if it spreads. Even the trade caravans are pulling out. Most of the outlying villages have shut their gates, even to merchants. Fear’s eating the region alive.”
“Then we stop there and end it.”
“Agreed. We can stop the tear and clear a path through the swamps. Then we don’t need to worry about an attack if a wheel gets stuck.”
She paused.
“Figured you should know. There’s a new problem in Maradryn.”
Resh tensed, sitting down at his work desk and leaning on his elbow. “Name?”
“Moragrim Vel,” Thessia replied, voice flat. “Claims ties to Krystopolis and the Sovereign Flame. Says the Crystal City has granted him divine right to rule.”
His lip curled. “He lies.”
“I know. But his people believe him. And he’s making things...messy.”
“And you expect me to—” he gestured vaguely.
“You may raze the city to correct him,” she offered.
“Already did that a few decades back with the last upstart,” Resh muttered. “City still hasn’t been fully rebuilt.”
Thessia let out a small snort. “What, is conquest in the name of Doctrine no longer part of your duty?”
“I’m occupied,” he said.
Her gaze drifted toward the cot, but she didn’t point out the obvious.
“You’ve been warmongering since before I was born,” Thessia pondered. “Easy to forget you’re older than most of the landmarks I pass while traveling.”
“Shouldn’t you show me respect as an elder, then?” Resh teased, voice threaded with a touch of warmth.
“I’ll show you respect when you earn it. You do, most of the time.”
“And the other times?”
“I’d like to run you through, but then I remember that if I let you live you might take me with you into one of those legendary battles one day.”
“Having the Lioness at my side would certainly be an advantage.”
They smiled at each other—knowing—then moved on, speaking of terrain, positioning, the route toward the Wette.
The Kelvasari would take the center, shielding the mages.
Her Riven Blades would flank west. The old marsh channels could hide movement for miles.
She knew the land better than most cartographers.
Conversation flowed naturally.
And yet—
After a while, silence crept in.
A beat too long.
“Not like you to let me speak so much without contradiction,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
Thessia glanced back at the cot. Her voice shifted.
“You’re pulling back.”
Resh didn’t move. “I am not.”
It was smooth. Controlled. Too fast.
“Then why the hesitation?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “She gave you that bowl in the clearing. Looked to me like you wanted to take her instead.”
He sighed. “Thess, don’t pry.”
“That’s never worked on me.”
“I haven’t changed,” he said, more tightly than he intended.
“You trying to fool me, or yourself?”
He turned away from the cot.
She stood her ground.
“You’re not the only one with eyes, Shadeslayer. The men might be too scared of you to let their gazes linger, but you know I don’t shy from what I want.”
He said nothing.
“I’ve seen how she glows when she’s trusted. Touched. And that kind of thing makes even a dried-up husk like me feel like I could reach out and nab a star from the sky.”
He turned toward her, voice low and warning. “Thessia—”
“What?” Her smile wasn’t cruel. Just...true. “You want her protected? Then protect her. But don’t expect the rest of us to wait while you fight your ghosts.”
He stared at her, pulse drumming hard behind his ribs.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned toward the tent flap.
“We ride at dawn,” she said, slipping back into command. “I’ll take the southern rise. Keep your Kelvasari sharp.”
A pause. One bootstep from the exit, she looked back.
“Tell her, Shadeslayer. About whatever you felt in that moment when she touched your earring.”
And then she was gone.