Hayden sat across the room, propped against the wall,quietly watching me. For a long minute neither of us said a word, but the silence felt thick, charged with everything that hadn’t been said in the candlelit cave.
I broke first, voice quiet. “Were you always this surprising?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Only on days that end in ‘y’,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that barely disturbed the quiet. He shifted against the wall, the movement deliberate. “Were you always this direct?”
I pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders, the rough fabric a small comfort. “Where I come from, you don’t have time to be anything else. We didn’t have… employment officers.” I let the title hang in the air, a stand-in for all the bureaucracy and rules he pretended to represent.
“No. I imagine not.” His gaze was steady, and for once, not weighing or judging. Just seeing me. “Sometimes, being unpredictable is the only way to stay alive. You learn to become what the world needs, or what it expects least.”
“And what does this situation require?” The words were out before I could stop them, more personal than I’d intended. “The one with me… and the others?”
Hayden’s mask of composure slipped for a fraction of a second. He looked away for a moment, his gaze finding a crack in the plaster on the far wall. When his eyes met mine again, the guardedness had returned, but it was softer somehow, less like a fortress wall and more like a well-worn shield. “Patience,” he said, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it over Jessie’s soft snores. “And a healthy dose of skepticism.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ve got the skepticism part down. Patience, though… not my strong suit.”
“I’m shocked,” he said, the words laced with a dry humor that made me want to throw a cushion at him.
He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closing for a second. The faint light caught the sharp line of his jaw. “Sometimes you have to let the pieces fall into place,” he continued quietly. “Learn the rhythms. The tides. The way a guard shifts his weight before he turns his head.”
I frowned at the way he spoke of a “guard” as if it were a memory, not a metaphor. “You’ve spent time watching them,” I murmur, more a statement than a question. “Guards?”
His eyes opened again, the blue in them stark against the growing pre-dawn light filtering through the window. “I’ve spent time watching many things, Tani.”
My own memories surfaced unbidden. The way a branch trembled before a predator made its move. The specific hush that fell over the jungle just before a storm broke. “And what you described isn’t patience,” I argued softly. “That’s observation. It’s hunting.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing these past months?”
The question hung between us, somehow heavier than any blanket. He hadn’t just been observing. He’d been hunting. Fairwell itself was the jungle, and he’d been learning its every rustle, every shadow. The thought was both unnerving and intriguing.
“So the uniform, the job… it’s all just a hide,” I said. “A way to blend in, to achieve… whatever you think is even possible in this place. But whatwereyou, Hayden, before all of this?”
He hesitated, casting a glance over at Jessie. Then he looked back at me. “Since neither of us is sleeping, want to go up to the roof? I hear the view’s worth seeing.”
I frowned, feeling weary at the thought of standing, but something drove me to nod, figuring I might get more answers from him if he was more comfortable in a different environment.
He pushed himself off the floor in one fluid motion and led me silently from the room. We advanced down the hallway, the floorboards groaning softly under our weight.At the end of the hall, a small, square hatch was set into the ceiling, a folded metal ladder tucked beside it. It looked like it was meant for maintenance, not casual visits.
Hayden didn’t even bother with the ladder. He simply jumped, knocking aside the bolt and dislodging the hatch in two fluid motions. Then he leaped a second time and caught the lip of the opening with ease. He hauled himself through the hole in a display of raw, contained power that left me momentarily speechless. A second later, his head and shoulders reappeared in the dark square of the hatch.
“Coming?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, almost a challenge.
I eyed the distance. I was athletic, but notthattall. I reached for the ladder but winced at the whining sound it made when I tried to unfold it. It’d probably wake everyone on this level.
I glanced back up at Hayden, then attempted a jump anyhow. My fingers scraped against the plaster a good foot below the edge. I landed with a soft thud, frustration prickling at me.
“Can’t reach,” I muttered.
He lowered a hand. “Jump again. I’ll do the rest.”
Taking a breath, I trusted him. I crouched and pushed off the floor with all my strength, my eyes fixed on his outstretched hand. My fingers brushed his, and then his grip closed around my wrist, strong and absolute. For a dizzying second, I dangled, and then he was pulling. It was effortless. He lifted my entire weight as if I were a child, his bicep flexing under the fabric of his shirt. I scrambled for purchase, my free hand landing on his shoulder as he drew me up through the opening.
My upward momentum brought me flush against him. His other hand went to my waist to steady me, his fingers splayed against my side, sending a jolt of heat through my thin shirt. Fora charged second, we were frozen. I was acutely aware of everything: the small space of the rooftop, the solid wall of his chest against mine, the faint, clean scent of him, and the way his sharp blue eyes searched mine in the dim first light. The world narrowed to the few inches between us.
He released me slowly, fingers trailing a half-second before retreating. He stepped back to give me space, though there was precious little to be had. This service roof was a small, flat square of tar and gravel, barely large enough for two people to stand without touching. Surrounding us, Fairwell was a sprawling tapestry of slumbering light and shadow. The first blush of dawn painted the eastern sky in strokes of violet and rose gold, reflecting off the placid, dark water between the islands. Founders’ Fortress was a jagged silhouette against the growing light, a monument to a world I still didn't understand. We were suspended amongst it all, utterly alone in the quiet intimacy of the morning.
I hugged my arms around myself, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. I turned my head to look at him, to finally get my answer.
He was already watching me, his expression focused, somewhat contemplative. He followed my gaze out to the horizon before speaking, his voice quiet, meant only for me. "I wish I could tell you what I was," he said. "But I can't."
