Then she turned and walked off, vanishing into the dark.
Surrender. He didn’t know how. But the word stuck, thorn-deep.
Resh stood there a long time, staring at the tent. At the dim flicker of light inside. At the soft curve of shadow cast by the sleeping girl who called for him in her restless dreams.
Don’t…go yet. Not yet.
Her voice echoed in his memories.
The image of her running to him, her face alight.
Zarrek’s voice. Repeating.
You keep trying to lock her up and she’ll keep turning to the person with the key.
His hands clenched at his sides.
Hours later, the fire burned low in the tent as he sat reading one of the older bestiaries, parchment frayed at the edges, his thumb pressed to a smudge of ink he hadn’t noticed before. The sound of the camp was muffled in mist and distance. Just the flicker of flame, and the soft creak of the canvas.
Auryn was sleeping, tucked into his bed, exhausted after a long day. He’d been journaling, auditing ration records, ensuring they had enough supplies to make it to Stonewake without any further delay.
If the Maradryn wagons departed on schedule, Auryn and I would reach Stonewake just ahead of them.
I’ll take her there. Ensure her safety.Ensure she’s comfortable.
Then, in a year or so, I’ll return to Krystopolis. It will likely be a few years before I see her again, but at least she will be safe. Living a life away from the darkness.
Earlier, he’d penned notes to several contacts in the capital, requesting they make a trip to Stonewake. Offering rare trade and opportunity. A few merchants. Nobility. People that could arrange for purchase of land andproperty. Connections that would guarantee her freedom and independence.
From behind him, he heard movement. Blankets shuffling.
He turned his head.
Auryn.
She was barefoot, wrapped in one of the thicker blankets, hair freshly braided but tousled, eyes drowsy.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, but his voice lacked all force.
She tilted her head.
“I was.”
She padded over and stood behind him. He started to turn—
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Stay.”
“Commanding me again?” he teased.
“If you’ll listen.”
A moment passed.
Then he felt her fingers in his hair. Careful. Intentional. Gentle.
“Thessia taught me. I want to try. I asked her if men wear braids like this. She said there were some warriors who did.”
Resh smiled. “You’re using me as practice, then?”
