“Yeah.”
Aelith shifts uneasily in his seat.
Even forced into the chair by Iris’s insistence and Kael’s unspoken threat to physically put him back there if he so much as twitches, he remains coiled, every line of his body taut with restrained motion. Blood has already begun to seep faintly through the fresh bandaging at his side, but he ignores it with the same stubborn arrogance that carried him through the palace and back here in one piece.
Around him, the room holds steady in that strained, anticipatory way that comes after impact but before the next blow lands. Maps sit abandoned on the table for now, markers left where they were dropped when Aelith spoke of the queen and what she knows. Sonny leans back against the wall, armsfolded, restless energy barely contained. Shanae watches with cool, assessing focus. Kael stands close enough to Aelith to intervene if needed, though whether that’s to support him or stop him remains an open question.
Varek says nothing. He doesn’t need to. The space bends around his silence.
Aelith drags a careful breath into his lungs, as though recalibrating himself around the pain. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but the edge in it hasn’t dulled. “My mother… she is not waiting,” he says. “She is accelerating.”
Shanae’s gaze narrows slightly. “Towards what?”
“Control of the rifts,” Aelith replies. “Not observation. Not containment. Control.”
That word carries differently now.
No one here needs it explained. Everyone in this room has seen what happens when the queen decides something should belong to her.
“She has always sought to control Riftborn,” he continues, his tone constricting just enough to betray how much he hates saying it aloud. “That has not changed. What has changed is her understanding of what they represent.”
Sonny shifts his weight. “Assets,” he mutters.
Aelith’s mouth pulls thin. “Yes. But more than that. Potential.”
The silence pulls taut.
“She understands what bonded pairs become,” he goes on. “The amplification of strength. How abilities evolve when the bond is complete. She has seen enough to recognise the pattern.”
“Course she has,” Sonny says under his breath. “Bloody collector.”
“She wants that power under her control,” Shanae says.
Aelith inclines his head once. “She always has. But now she believes she can direct it.”
A flicker of unease moves through the room because that implies more than just capture. It implies design.
“She’s studying the rifts,” I say, thinking it through as I speak. “Tracking them. Looking for consistency.”
“Yes.”
“And trying to force them?”
Aelith meets my gaze. “Yes.”
That sits wrong in my chest, even though I’m a bit surprised none of us considered she’d want to understand them as much as we do.
Before anyone can respond, a heavy set of footsteps sounds in the corridor, purposeful and fast. Heads turn instinctively as a large figure fills the doorway, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him for a second before he steps inside.
Solan.
He looks like he walked straight out of a fight he enjoyed too much, all solid muscle and hard edges, his red skin marked faintly with the aftermath of old battles. His gaze sweeps the room in one quick pass, assessing, calculating, and then lands squarely on Jack.
“You good?” he asks.
Jack nods once, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. “For now.”
Solan grunts, then shifts his attention to Aelith, eyes narrowing slightly before he looks at Varek. “I did not see signs of anyone’s tracks but Aelith’s close by.”
