Collin stood still a moment longer, the sound of it echoing long after they were out of sight.
A shadow passed through him, soft but sudden—like a cloud slipping in front of the sun, stealing the warmth she’d left behind. Dragonfly and Lekyi had always shared a certain ease, the kind that went back years, woven into their bones. But the way she leaned into him now, the way they laughed—maybe it wasn’t just history between them. Maybe it was something still unfolding.
Aries stepped off the hospital steps. “Come on. It’s already getting hot.”
Still frowning in the direction Dragonfly had gone, Collin asked absently, “How was your night in the hospital? Did you get any sleep?”
“I slept a little, but the bed was hard and squeaky.” Aries smacked his lower back with a grimace. “My spine is officially sixty years old.”
“Well, without your snoring, I finally had a wonderful night’s sleep.”
Aries shot him a wounded look. “Cruel. After everything I’ve done for you.”
Collin let out a laugh, the tension loosening just slightly from his shoulders.
“Now that you’re working too,” Aries said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, “maybe we can finally save up enough to build another bedroom.”
The suggestion tugged Collin’s thoughts away from the image of Dragonfly and Lekyi laughing together. “Not a bad idea. I’ll check with Nic on the cost of lumber.”
“It’ll be cheaper if we build it ourselves. How hard can it be to tack a little room onto the side of the house?”
Collin groaned. “If we’re building it ourselves, we’ll only be able to work afternoons after our shifts. At that rate, it’ll be done by next winter.”
“We’ll figure out the details once we know the price. No need to put our wagon before the horse. More importantly—who’s moving? You or me?”
Collin snorted. “Talk about the horse before the wagon! But I’m not moving. I’m not dragging all my things out of my room. And don’t forget—it was mine first.”
“I have no problem moving out,” Aries said breezily. “Honestly, I’d love to have a private door. Separate from the house.”
Collin rolled his eyes. “If Grandfather hears what you’re planning, he won’t let us build anything.”
“Technically, the house and land were left to you by your parents,” Aries pointed out. “So the building permit goes in your name. Grandfather doesn’t get a say.”
“Maybe so, butIdare you to tell him that.”
“I’m not going to sneak Hadria into my room,” Aries said quickly, hands raised in mock innocence.
Collin shook his head, laughing again despite himself. “You didn’thaveto say that out loud.”
“But—” He hesitated, glancing at Aries. "Is it a good idea for you and Hadria to be so, well, so public?"
“You worry too much.”
“Youdon’t worry enough.”
“And it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know we’re together!” Aries declared. “Besides, I’m not afraid of Montigo. If he killed me, who would make his swords? Other than Grandfather and Titus, I’m the best smith he has. And once Titus retires—and I hear he will, soon enough—I’ll be the only one left.”
Collin didn’t answer right away. Aries’s confidence rang clear, but it didn’t ease the knot forming in his chest.
Once, long ago, Collin’s father had been known across Crimisa for his glasswork—delicate, intricate, coveted by tradesmen from the Blue Isles. People said his pieces caught light the way water caught moon. But none of that brilliance had protected him in the end. Talent hadn’t saved Jiah.
Why would it save Aries?
Aries was just another name in Montigo’s empire, easy to overlook. But that wouldn’t last. The more boldly he loved Hadria, the more attention he drew. And Montigo, Collin knew too well, noticed everything—especially the things that dared to touch what he considered his.
"Hadria is amazing," Aries went on fervently. "I’m not going to give her up for anything less than death.”
As they neared River’s house, unease prickled under Collin’s skin.
