He would see it as a danger to her life.
Recklessness.
The one line he could never allow her to cross.
When he woke and learned the truth—there would be no stopping the wound that would rip them both open.
He clutched the Stillheart tighter in his hand. Not to protect her from Resh’s madness. But to steady himself. For the first time in his life, he was about to disobey his Resh’Agar’s command.
If there was a deity somewhere up in the sky, Zarrek hoped that—for once—it was paying attention.
24
Words Unguarded
Resh awoke to silence. Stillness. Not morning, but a new day.
The world around him breathed, and for once, he could breathe with it. No buzzing in his ears. No pain from the runes. No heaviness in his lungs. Like the first time he’d awakened centuries and centuries ago, with only his brother’s words to remind him of who he was.
Yet even then, the peace had never been this overwhelming.
This all-encompassing.
This wonderful.
His eyes focused on the canvas of the tent above him, watching it sway lightly with the wind outside. He hardly remembered closing his eyes the night before. Could recall no dreams. Just calm.
He blinked.
Once, then again.
Something shifted against his chest. His gaze dropped to a world of starlight. Before the thought even registered, his hand was already moving. Stroking through the softness, running it between his fingers like liquid mercury. Brushing aside the shining curtain, he made out a face.
Arching silver brows. Long white lashes. A delicate nose nestled in a constellation of faint freckles on velvet skin. Serene. As though the skies themselves had painted a portrait of their adoration.
Auryn.
His.
She was sprawled across him; one leg hooked over his hip. Limp. Unmoving. Her lips parted as she breathed shallow, halting breaths.
His hand…
Void.
His hand was gripping her thigh.
Cupping it.
Resh’s mind floundered. Memory of the night before was entirely absent. He let go of her. Then, with the same hand, he tipped her chin up so he could see her whole face.
He was still dressed save for his shirt. She was resting against his bare chest. What happened? He tried to retrace his steps, but the memories blurred into fragments: her voice, asking to stay. Her fingers in his hair.
He shifted, trying to extricate himself without waking her. Auryn stirred, her brow creasing in sleep. One hand lifted and moved in the air as though tracing invisible threads. Her fingers moved in cyclical patterns, and the runes along his side flared in response.
Serene—as though her touch had sung to them.Soothedthem.
His heart went cold.
