“They can’t answer us then either,” she counters coldly.
Information matters more than comfort. More than fear. More than dignity. Systems fail when people prioritize emotion over function. And Vren is emotional.
Jax’s eyes spring open, dragging them around the space to orient herself. Her gaze meets Ronyn’s.
“You just had to go and get caught,” she jabs.
He shakes the haze from his head. “Me? You’re fucking next to me, Jax—yougot caught, too!”
She scoffs loudly.
But Calira has no interest in the insignificant quarrels of others. “Are you done?” she asks, but it’s not a question.
Jax and Ronyn stare at each other for a moment longer, as if they’re deciding if they’re truly done. Their eyes drift slowly to Calira.
“Why are you here?” Calira asks.
Jax tries to sit up taller, but the bindings around her wrists prevent her from doing it efficiently. “We’re here to find out whatyoufucking pricks are doing here—because it’s sure as shit not for weapons!”
Ronyn rolls his eyes, as if this outburst is typical. “Would you fucking stop? Not sure we’re in a position to aggravate the woman with the deadly alchemy,” he whispers, though it hisses through the air with ease.
Calira’s mouth twists in disgust. Their emotions leak into everything they do. Inefficient. Dangerous. Dangerous in the way all unpredictable things were. Thalmyr would call them inefficient. Inefficiencies torefine.
Vren steps forward. “Why are youhere… in Vyrhal?” he tries again, voice measured.
Ronyn pauses, weighing his options, assessing the best approach.
Jax shakes her head, trying desperately to get him to stop whatever is about to come out of his mouth. But he sits up a little straighter, despite his arms being tied behind his back.
He swallows, and then his eyes drift to Calira’s. “We’re here to find the Melders.”
Vren sucks in a sharp breath, then moves in front of them, crouching down so he’s at eye level. “Vren Valári, Elder of the Dravari Melders.”
Shock does not settle on Ronyn’s face. Or Jax’s.Interesting. As if they know with certainty exactly what the Melders are.Whothey are.
But Ronyn’s face turns vacant for one heartbeat. Two.
Then a lop-sided smile breaks free on his face. “Ronyn Holt, first god metal archer of Aevryn, best friend to the Rightful Queen of Dravara, and unwanted vessel for the soul of Tarrakai, Ender of Kingdoms.”
The space stills.
Vren’s composure fractures at the name.
Then, Ronyn adds. “Oh, and Tarrakai would like you to know that you are now second Elder, unimportant, and no longer in charge.”
Vren doesn’t flinch. But his eyebrows pinch together.
“Tarrakai? The most powerful dragon in history?” He asks the questions with skepticism. Suspicion, even.
Ronyn smiles broadly. “The very one. Heart of Ashara. Awaken the dragon. Worthy vessel. All that. I’m the worthy vessel, if you hadn’t caught that already.”
Vren doesn’t move. Only trains his gaze on the archer like he can find the truth there.
Calira’s patience thins to nothing.
“The Melders are not up for discussion. They have obligations to the Crown,” she snaps from behind her helmet.
Ronyn’s facade falters, and he jerks against his restraints. “To the Crown? My best friend is your Rightful Queen, and you have the godsdamned audacity to speak to me of the Crown?” he snarls.
