“Oh,” she finally says. “At least you’re not from Nymeris. Sick of those smug, over-confident assholes,” she snaps, spinning on her heel, and waving them forward without fuss. “Dravara breeds fighters,” she mutters. “Nymeris breeds talkers. Incessant, dribbling talkers. Intelligence comes in many forms—knowing when to shut up is one of them.”
A sound ripples from Kael’s throat—a suppressed laugh—and he drags his hand through his dark hair.
“Yes,” he whispers conspiratorially to Elyssara, “she’s always like this. This is quite mild, actually.”
Elyssara doesn’t try to hide her smile. She lets it stretch across her face freely, and the tether flares with warmth.
She follows Rhaema through a curtain to a small back room with draped fabrics hanging over every available surface, bolts of silk stacked atop one another, and not a single place to stand comfortably.
Rhaema whips her head around faster than Elyssara thought she was capable. “Now, are we going to talk about whateverthisis?” she snaps, wagging her finger between Kael’s eyes.
His ocean-lightning irises are still splintered with onyx.
He shoves her hand out of his face. “Not today. We’re talking about keeping us hidden until the search slows down. Then, we’re talking about breaking into Maireth’s vault.” He keeps his voice steady, measured, but Elyssara doesn’t miss the strain in it.
Rhaema nods, processing the information like a woman who’s done this before. Like a woman well accustomed to a life of secrets.
“So, we’re talking about some light accommodation followed by a little bit of treason? Is that right?” she quips sarcastically.
Kael smirks. “That about sums it up, yeah.”
Rhaema doesn’t speak, only runs her hand down her face, tawny skin weathered by sun and time.
“Frankly,” she says finally, “I’m disappointed. I was hoping forquite a bitof treason today.”
Rhaema moves nonchalantly, shoving aside rolls of fabric from dusty floorboards.
Elyssara’s eyes blow wide, and her face snaps to Kael in shock.
“I’m starting to understand a lot about your bloodline,” Elyssara mutters under her breath.
Kael chuckles, rich and deep, and the sound warms her chest like the first fire of winter.
Rhaema pulls back a door built into the floor, and a hot plume of steam blooms from the opening.
What in the fucking Stars?
“The next Insiders aren’t coming for two days. Then you’ll need to get out,” Rhaema says without pretense. “I’ll have maps and guard rotations for you before you leave. Now, get down, I’ve got a delivery coming soon.”
Kael nods. “Thank you,” he says solemnly.
“Yeah, yeah,” she grouses. “I’m assumingyouare the cause of this search. Any liabilities I need to take care of? Supplies?”
This woman is connected.
Kael swallows thickly, and Elyssara knows memories of the fight at the wall have infiltrated his mind. “We left no witnesses, so Kiva and Laryn will be safe. But our weapons are at the wall,” Kael explains, forcing his voice to steady.
“No one of note ventures to the boundary, anyway. I’ll send someone from the network for the weapons,” Rhaema says gruffly.
She waves her hands toward the hidden door impatiently. “Hurry up, now.”
Kael steps through first, testing the integrity of the steps. He holds his hand out for Elyssara, and she takes it. The tether hums in harmony, hungry for his touch, his connection. Theireyes meet in silent conversation. A thousand words passing between them without ever saying a word.
I’ve got you.
I love you.
I’m here.
