Thessia smirked when Auryn said nothing for a minute. “So, he hasn’t crossed that line yet.”
Auryn considered the question. “Is there a line to be crossed?”
The Lioness’s grin widened. “Seeking pleasure to take the edge off isn’t the same as letting someone in.”
Auryn wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Did he cross it with you?”
Thessia looked like she was about to laugh again, but when she saw Auryn was completely serious, she stopped herself. “The Shadeslayer doesn’t let anyone in. Not to his bed or to his heart.”
A beat.
“I hear the warriors talk. They say he finds pleasure often with women.”
“And does that trouble you?”
“No.” She sighed. “You asked me once if I was his. I’m not. But sometimes, I…” She trailed off, and Thessia didn’t interrupt. Waiting. “Sometimes, I think I’d like for him to never look away from me.”
Thessia’s violet eyes turned stormy. “You’re very honest,” she admitted. “It’s bizarre.”
“Is it wrong to speak truth?”
“No, just…a lost art form, I think.”
Auryn smiled then reached for one of Thessia’s braids. The one with the violet ribbon. “Will you teach me how to braid like this?”
The Lioness looked away, and Auryn couldn’t miss the slight flush on her cheekbones as she grumbled, “Maybe one day.”
After hours of adjustments, the wards around the camp were functional. Kailorien adjusted the last sigil stone at the threshold, its glyph pulsing in answer to his touch. The tent was warm. Still. For now.
Outside, the camp crackled with movement—shifting formations, Blades murmuring instructions, scouts returning in staggered bursts. The air carried the telltale charge of a battlefield waiting for its Commander’s horn. The weight of it settled in the marrow of his ribs.
He hadn’t seen Auryn since midday, when she’d gone off with Thessia to walk the eastern ridge and, as she put it, “stretch the starlight out of her bones.”
A soft rustle broke the hush.
He turned just as the tent flap lifted.
Thessia stepped through, arms full—not with weapons, but with a dozing bundle of limbs and tousled silver hair.
“She wouldn’t leave the ridge,” Thessia said with a half-smile, careful not to jostle her. “Said she wanted to see the stars blink first. Then fell asleep against my shoulder like a damn hatchling.”
Kailorien crossed the space without a word, his arms sliding around Auryn with practiced ease. She was so small like this—barely a breath against his chest. Her scent, her warmth, the softness of her sigh as she settled into him…it pulled something loose in him.
Auryn stirred, brow twitching, nose scrunching as she adjusted to the shift in warmth and scent. She made a small, unintelligible sound, then her hand emerged from the folds of fabric—fluttering upward, slow and searching.
Thessia blinked. “What is she…?”
Kailorien stilled, heart suddenly thrumming. Without question, he adjusted his hold—lifting her higher in his arms. Her fingers brushed his jaw, then his cheek, finally finding the teardrop emerald hanging from his ear. She wrapped her hand around it. Sighed. Nestled closer.
“You’re—does she do that—?”
“Always,” he said, unable to keep his voice from softening.
“Kailorien,” Auryn whispered.
He tilted his head toward her, voice lowered to a hush.
“I’m here,” he murmured.
