Lekyi leaned in again, lips parting—
A loud groan cut the air. The heavy double doors of the meeting hall creaked open.
Collin straightened instantly, the heat and hunger forgotten. The waiting was about to end.
Captain Sol and three of his highest-ranked captains appeared suddenly on the steps. The chatter strangled into silence. Collin forgot entirely about the swaying woman in the crowd—the square shifted all at once into stillness and heat.
The old head captain stood with arms folded, surveying the restless bodies before him with cool, dangerous detachment. The captains behind him looked carved from stone.
Sol cleared his throat and snapped the roster open. “When I call your name, you will go—immediately and silently—into the meeting hall.”
The quiet that followed was unnerving. Collin heard everything: the flap of a bird’s wings far above, the slow grind of his own shoes on the stones, the quiet tick of his watch. And behind him, Dragonfly’s soft, measured breathing—so close that if he leaned back just a little, they’d be touching.
Without thinking, his own breathing synced with hers, each inhale deep and steady, as if drawn from the same lungs. She smelled faintly of flowers and sunlight and something sharper beneath—the way narcissus grows by the lake's edge. Her presence blurred the edges of the moment.
Suddenly, they weren’t in the square. They were barefoot in the shallows, fingertips brushing, the lake lapping at their ankles. Her breath was at his neck, her hand in his, her lips—
“Gravis of Nereid.”
Collin jolted upright. His neck cracked. The vision shattered like dropped glass. Not now. Not here. Get a grip.
A tall, broad-shouldered fellow cut through the crowd and disappeared through the doors.
“I knew that one would do well,” Aries whispered.
Nic leaned close, “Didn’t know they were excepting brick houses.” And then quickly straightened.
“Aries of Chroma,” Sol barked.
Aries glanced at Collin—just long enough for Collin to see that familiar, unshakeable spark—then disappeared in two powerful strides up the meeting hall steps.
Sol didn’t pause.
“Nic of Stargazer Creek.”
“Tell Helen I died looking smug,” Nic whispered, and then he darted for the double doors.
Collin’s stomach twisted. What were they walking into? And how many would follow?
Next was Rhea. Then Sky, the girl with the hips, shuffled forward.
“Lekyi of North Town.”
Lekyi inhaled sharply, knuckles white around the grip of Solus, and rose like a man heading for execution.
Collin watched his friend vanish into the crowd. His vision swam. Run, one part of him urged. Stand tall, said another. He felt suspended between the two—split down the middle.
More names. Clive. His twin. Uriah.
With each name, the weight pressed harder on Collin’s chest.
Then—
“Collin of Chroma.”
A single, echoing beat.
He flinched. Ice swept through him. The sun vanished behind a cold surge of dread.
