“They’re closing in,” he said. “We’ve got hounds on every side. The men are ready to take a stand. Blades are in position.”
“Me too,” said a voice from behind.
Auryn swung her legs over the side of the bed with a resolve sharper than any blade. Pale. Shaking. Upright.
“I want to help.”
Zarrek tilted his head. “Not sure if you’d be help or hazard. Most of those men wouldn’t even see you under ‘em.”
Auryn lifted her chin. “They will see me. My hair is very bright.”
She glanced at Resh’s blade…then at her hands. “I don’t need a weapon. I will stop the hounds. Their cries hurt. They sing to the sky. I will remind them how to sleep.”
Resh crossed the space in a heartbeat and placed his hands on her shoulders—gentle, grounding. “Auryn,” he said, quiet but firm. “You’ve been unwell. You try to hide it, but I can see it.”
She met his gaze with a frown. “My body is tired. But my magic sings.”
His heart twisted. Her silver eyes burned with purpose, and some part of him wanted to let her. To see what she could do again. To let the world watch her shine. But that wasn’t what she needed. So, Resh knelt—fully armored, the silver threads of his aethersteel mask gleaming in the lantern light.
“If you want to help,” he said, “steady the horses. You like whispering to them, don’t you?”
Auryn’s mouth pulled into a reluctant line. “They like my songs, especially Astenos.”
“I know they do. And I believe you could help us.” He reached up, brushing her hair back from her cheek, just once. “But I will not use your power for something we can do ourselves. Save it. For yourself. For when it’s needed. For when I can’t protect you.”
Their eyes locked. Her breath caught. He waited. No command. Only invitation.
“All right,” she whispered. “I will stay.”
Resh smiled, relief welling in his chest.
“Good girl. Stay within the fence line. We’ll do the rest.”
When Resh and Zarrek reached the fences, his Second tapped him on the shoulder.
“She’ll be fine.”
Resh clenched his jaw. “She’s going to get herself in trouble one day.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to stop her.”
“That’s the problem,” Resh muttered. “She doesn’t stop. She just…listens. Smiles. Says she understands. Then goes and does what she wants anyway.”
Zarrek snorted. “Maybe because she knows she’s right. She stopped a tidal wave, Resh. Alone.”
“She shouldn’t have to.” Resh glanced at his brother in arms. “And I won’t always be there, Zar.”
“So, you’ve taken my advice for once? Gonna let her go?”
Resh shifted his weight between his feet. The grip on his blade grew so tight it dug into his skin through his glove.
“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. “But I must.”
Zarrek looked taken aback for a moment. Then his gaze settled back on the horizon. “Then yeah, I can see the concern.”
Howls filled the air—monstrous bellows mixed with human screams of terror. Voices called and beckoned, but they did not belong to men.
“Help us!”one voice cried.
