He doesn’t speak.
The current slips between my fingers, cool and steady, unbothered by my unraveling.
“I don’t know why I knew,” I whisper. “I don’t understand how I could feel that.”
The sun breaks through the trees above us in streaks of gold and white, catching the edges of the water, painting my skin in fractured light. It does nothing to warm me.
Torryn takes a breath. “Maybe you don’t have to understand it yet. We’re still quietly inquiring with all the factions and with those we trust, to see if we can find any answers for you.”
He watches me, unreadable, but his presence is still solid, still steady. My unmovable mountain.
It’s only been days since I saw the other kings, yet a restlessness inside of me stretches wider the longer Igo without seeing them. It’s like life is suddenly quiet without Sylvin’s dramatics, Riven’s heavy presence, and Azyric’s dry remarks. It’s a silence I can’t quite make peace with, and in that silence, my questions have only multiplied.
Are they alright? Would I know if something happened to any of them?
I try not to let that last thought settle too long, because the truth is I don’t know what ties me to them, or why that tether feels like it’s tightening.
A breeze pulls through the trees on either side of the river, carrying the scent of pine and wet grass and rustling the leaves in a soft hush.
I shouldn’t feel like this about them when I hardly know them. I shouldn’t care if they’re safe.
The water shifts around me suddenly, like something disrupts the current deep beneath the ground. The pulse of it beneath my feet moves with quiet certainty, curling up my calves. Soft pricks to the soles of my feet startle me, as if the earth doesn’t agree with me, or is calling me a liar.
Should I care? Are they important to my journey?
The pricks fade, leaving the rush of water flowing unbothered once again.
Warmth returns to my body as the truth settles, and I fight the soft smile teasing the corners of my lips.
Each one of them is tied to something in me I can’t name but feel more with every breath I take.
Maybe I shouldn’t fight that. Maybe this is the earth telling me I need to see them. To understand each of them and their people. To stand in the places they’ve built and are willing to bleed for.
Perhaps that’s why standing still for too long in one spot has built a restlessness within me, as much as I find beauty in the shifters’ way of life.
My throat tightens at the thought of having to admit that to Torryn, but I need to see the others.
I draw in a slow breath, the kind that feels too shallow at first, like my lungs aren’t sure they want to hold anything at all.
My eyes slowly lift to meet his golden ones. He’s given me so much of himself these past few days. Openness and patience. Inviting me into their faction like I’d always belonged here. Challenging himself to give me honest answers, despite them grating against his deep-seated issues with the other factions.
I know I’m about to test all of that as the words form slowly on my lips.
“I think…” My voice is low, the sound of it hesitant. “Would you be willing to send a message to the others?”
His body stills, just slightly.
“To invite them here,” I clarify, unable to keep the slight wince from my face. “For dinner or something like it.”
The pause that follows isn’t hostile, just heavy.
The river moves around us, lazy and slow, as though it has all the time in the world.
“I know you don’t trust them,” I add, carefully. “I’m not asking you to change that. Just to let them in briefly.”
I don’t say the rest. I don’t tell him how much I need to see them with my own eyes. How the ache in my chest won’t let go until I do.
Yet I think he hears the unspoken words anyway.
