Page 34 of Sokâr

She didn’t answer.

“Auryn, what is this room? This is not fit for the Sokâr. Foryou.”

She smiled, but it was a sad thing—tired and aching and devoid of all her usual defiance.

“I’m a placeholder. A silhouette wearing the name. If I was truly Sokâr, I would have a voice at Council, would be able to weigh in on critical matters of Doctrine.”

The thought tripped him up, and he frowned. “I thought you didn’t want to attend. You said they were a bunch of old, blind fools.”

“They are,” she agreed. “That’s why they need leadership.”

“And you want to give them that?”

She looked up at him. Her eyes—still brimming with pain—burned with clarity.

“If I said I did, would you stop me?”

He considered it. “No. I would only ask you to think through the danger of it. Mistakes in the Council don’t end with a push down a flight of stairs. Their retaliation is worse and much less direct.”

“I’m aware,” she nodded, and the bitterness in her voice made him grimace.

She pointed to the door in the wall, and he took out several journals within. She signaled for him to open them. Leafing through the time-worn pages was a journey through decades of silent rebellion. Auryn had been secretly listening in on Council sessions. Not just now and again, but to every single one. All the records were here, written with Lamari Dross' diligence and notated with her own commentary.

She'd written passages on the Solutus rebellion, Shield compression theory, even proposed solutions to problems that had plagued the Council for years. There were diagrams and notations on magical devices,alternative ward manipulations, and improvements to existing Reskala gear and weaponry.

"How did you…?"

"There is a passage that can be navigated from the southernmost corridor behind the Axis Hall. It is small, but… so am I."

He turned more pages, moving from journal to journal, transfixed. Fascinated. And—incomprehensibly—the ache in his chest that housed his love and adoration for her grew.

"Auryn, this is…"

Words failed him.

All but one.

"Incredible."

Her observations were astute, intuitive, informed. Some had her defiant flare, but her recommendations were sound and innovative. Pride swelled in him. Fierce awe. He looked at her, but words still did not come. Because he was so very proud, but also angry. And afraid. She hadn't told him about any of this. Not the neglect. Not her determination to lead. None of these.

More secrets. More things she’d kept from him. More chances he’d missed to reallyknowher. To understand her life here. To protect her.

His hands flexed once at his sides. He’d had enough of this. Turned to the Attendant who was standing in front of the door to the chamber.

And paused in surprise.

Lu'ma wascasting.Strangely—but casting nonetheless.A ward, from the looks of it. Containment. Delicately bridged, the leys crossing in a way he hadn’t seen before.But no. Hehadseen it.Long, long ago. In the Emerald Moores, when Auryn had been teaching his men how to “sing” to magic, how to cast wards while twining ley lines in ways they’d never been taught.

His throat tightened.Auryn had taught this girl how to cast.Sharp eyes roamed over her now that he was still, and he noticed things he hadn’t earlier. The limp in her leg. The scars on her arm. Born wrong—the Breeders would have said.

She’s mine…

He glanced at Auryn. Her eyes were fierce. Protective.

Lu’ma is mine. Not my Attendant, but my friend. Don’t look at her like that. Not with the same eyes she must face every day of her existence. She is worthy, Kailorien. Of life. Of magic. Of love.

How has she survived?