Auryn did not wake to tell him he was being soft. Did not chide him for daring to think of the skies when his duty grounded him to the tunnels deep beneath the earth. Instead, she lay so still his heart ached. Gray. Wan. Hardly breathing. The starry freckles on her cheeks and nose were still dimmed. Nearly invisible now.
He referenced his tomes tirelessly. Her condition heavily resembled a mage’s mana depletion. Zarrek agreed, but something didn’t fit. Her unnatural stillness, the way her normally glowing skin was dimmed and quiet. This was no simple backlash. It was more. But, neither he nor Zarrek had the knowledge to explain it.
Ten days into their journey, Auryn finally awakened. It was night, and Resh had just brought in his supper to eat beside her when she stirred. He nearly dropped his tray in his haste to get to her, and just as he settled on the bed, calling her name, she opened her eyes.
Her brow furrowed. Lips parted.
“Water,” she rasped, groggy and disoriented.
Relief melted through him. His hand cupped her cheek without thought, thumb trembling against her skin as his voice broke in a whisper—
“Sweetfire…”
He hadn’t meant to say it. The word tore from him, bare and aching, like a flower unfurling out of season into frost.
“You’re awake.”
Her gaze fluttered—unfocused, dazed—until it found him.
And then—quietly, with a ghost of a smile, “Kailorien.”
Her fingers lifted toward his collar. Weak. Uncertain. Searching.
She found his earring.
Squeezed it.
Squeezed hisheartalong with the stone.
“I heard your voice…in the dark…I tried to find you...”
He caught her hand. Held it to his chest.
“And now you have,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He moved with efficiency, supporting her as he reached for a flask of spring water.
“Careful,” he cautioned. “Drink slowly.”
She sipped, blinking between swallows. Sip by sip, her breath steadied.
“Thank you,” she breathed, leaning into him without a hint of hesitation. He closed his eyes for a moment. Let himself believe she was finally here, finally safe.
Her gaze wandered the dim tent. She blinked again,coming back to herself.
Then her tongue flicked across her lips—and he forgot how to breathe.
In a heartbeat, her silver eyes caught his.
He reeled.
Days had passed, and he’d nearly forgotten the miracle that was her gaze alone. It pulled on his very soul like a gravity well of newborn stars—drawing him into its depths with no hope of salvation. Ethereal. Carrying the clarity and wisdom of the night sky. Even her pupils—like shadows drawn beneath a gossamer shade—glowed with a light that wasn’tmagic—it washer.
Resh swallowed thickly, struggling to take a breath of air.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
Her voice.
