“No,” the Glider agreed. “But she is waking. And something ancient stirs when she breathes.” His nostrils flared. “She smells of change. Like a foreign wind.”
He stepped out onto the balcony and spread his wings with a powerful gust. It would have knocked a lesser man to the ground, but Kailorien stood unaffected. And then, like smoke on a moonless wind, the Riven vanished.
Kailorien remained, breath sharp, muscles wound like a drawn bow.
Not safe in Maradryn.
Not safe on the Surface.
And now, not even safe from the ones who walked with sky in their bones.
He sank into the chair beside the table, resting his head in his hand. All signs pointed to one thing. Krystopolis was the safest place for her to be. At least there, he could keep watch. Some of the time.
His jaw clenched. His memory betrayed him, conjuring the strange, haunted voice he’d heard just before breaking the seal on the ice that had kept Auryn from his arms.
Please, don’t.
He should have listened. But if he had, he never would have found the lost piece of his soul.
Not for the first time, the thought struck him; she was not made for this world.
But the world had seen her.
And it would never stop wanting her now.
34
Quiet Between
The day after Zarrek threw down his crest and Thessia's encounter with Auryn in the stables, the Bloodletter and Lioness received a formal invitation to the Resh'Agar's quarters for that evening. With Talia following her Commander and Zarrek looking grim, they entered the vast chamber as directed.
Kailorien stood alone at the war table. It was littered with open scrolls, half-drained ink pots, and discarded diagrams scratched with fraying threads of leyline calculations. Candlelight flickered low, casting deep hollows across Kailorien’s face as he leaned forward, arms braced wide on the table’s edge.
“Sit,” he said without preamble. “I have something to share with all of you. War is coming to Stonewake. Fast.”
None of them spoke, and Kailorien took it as consent to proceed. “Hours ago, a Glider envoy delivered a warning,” he said. “The Gliders feel something stirring in the deep Vein. They believe I carry a weapon. Or a power they can’t name.”
Thessia stepped forward as he spoke but allowed him to finish.
“The contact is reliable, and he warned that an attack is coming. Not sure when, but we need to prepare tonight.”
Thessia leaned her weight on the table, arms crossed, voice sharp. “This is sudden. You sure he was an envoy and not a scout?”
“He was no scout,” Kailorien said.
“A threat,” Zarrek muttered. “But no timeline.”
Kailorien nodded. “He said they feel it. The stirrings. The weight of something rising. Something they fear the Flaeme would claim if left unguarded.”
Thessia’s brow tightened. “They think you’ve stashed a relic?”
“They think I carry power.” He glanced toward the partition, careful not to linger. “Something not meant for mortal hands.”
Zarrek stood at his left, arms folded, one boot tapping a slow rhythm against stone. “Don’t see how this concerns me. I’ll be leaving at first light with Auryn.”
From the far wall, the firelight silvered Thessia’s violet eyes. “The Riven Blades will ride with the Bloodletter,” she said. “You know as much. Plans haven’t changed.”
“Mine have,” Kailorien countered. “Auryn isn’t leaving.”
