His gaze doesn’t waver. The bond hums again, a low, steady presence that brushes against the remnants of that earlier tension and smooths it out without effort. “You were not,” he says.
It isn’t phrased as a question. He already knows.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. “Just… old habits,” I admit.
The words feel heavier than they should, but not wrong.
His expression firms slightly in understanding. He steps closer, closing some of the space between us without crowding it. The warmth of him becomes more tangible, something I can feel without needing to reach for it. “You are safe here,” he says quietly.
The statement takes hold, and for a moment, the instinct pushes back. That old, ingrained part of me that’s learned not to rely on anyone but myself comes to life, testing the edges of that certainty.
But the bond doesn’t falter. It anchors deeper, steady and unwavering, reinforcing something I’m still learning how to accept.
“Yeah,” I say, quieter now, the word carrying more weight than before. “I know.”
The word descends between us, quiet but solid. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air holds, not tense exactly, but full—of everything that’s shifted between us in the past few days, of everything still easing into place.
I glance at him again, taking in how he’s still focused on me, the attention unchanged despite me saying I’m fine.
It sticks.
“Why were you gone this morning?” I ask.
Varek doesn’t look away. “I was required elsewhere,” he says.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “That’s vague.”
“It is accurate.”
I huff a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re going to be one of those, aren’t you?”
“One of what?”
“Technically correct and deeply unhelpful.”
There’s the faintest shift at the corner of his mouth. It’s an almost smile, one I’m beginning to feel far too invested in.
“I did not wish to wake you,” he adds after a moment, voice quieter now. “You required rest.”
I nod once, accepting it for what it is, even if I know there’s more sitting behind it. He seemed unsettled last night.
“Fair,” I say. Then, after a beat, I ask, “Anything from Aelith?”
His expression stills slightly. “No.”
I exhale slowly, glancing out past him towards the city. It’s not at all visible from here, but it’s always present in the back of my mind.
“Right,” I mutter. “Figured as much.”
Silence stretches for a second, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just… thinking space. Then I shift my weight and start walking, angling myself to head along the outer path without really deciding to. Varek falls easily into step beside me, matching my pace without comment.
“I know it’s not safe to go back,” I say after a moment, my gaze fixed ahead. “Not right now. Not after… everything.”
That’s putting it lightly.
Capture, interrogation, and a public exchange that probably has half the Crown’s attention locked onto anything even vaguely suspicious are not exactly ideal conditions for slipping back into the city unnoticed.
“But,” I continue, “there are still people there who need help. Riftborn who rely on the routes, on the supplies, on…” I exhale, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “On me, apparently.”
