"I wasn't going to touch it." Her voice is steady now, controlled in a way that suggests she's used to managing her tone under pressure. "I was just... curious."
"Curiosity is a luxury you can't afford here." I lean in slightly, making sure she hears every word. "This isn't like other estates. The creatures down here don't differentiate between laborers and threats. They react on instinct, and instinct doesn't care about your intentions."
"I understand," she repeats, but there's something in her expression—buried beneath the compliance, hidden behind thecareful neutrality—that suggests she's humoring me rather than agreeing with me.
It makes the irritation flare hotter.
"Do you?" I step back, putting distance between us before I say something I'll have to enforce. "Because if I have to explain this again, you won't like the consequences."
Her mouth opens slightly, and for a heartbeat I think she's going to argue. But then she exhales, slow and measured, and inclines her head. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." I gesture toward the supply bucket she abandoned. "Finish your work and get out. I need to check the beasts, and I don't need distractions."
She moves immediately, retrieving her supplies and returning to the section of walkway she was cleaning earlier. But I can feel her attention on me even as she works, quick glances that she thinks I don't notice. I notice everything.
I turn away from her and head toward Azhrael's enclosure, already running through my mental checklist. Barrier integrity, glyph plate stability, temperature regulation in the basin—all routine maintenance that should take my full focus.
Except I'm acutely aware of her presence behind me. The soft scrape of her brush against stone. The quiet rhythm of her breathing. The faint scent of sweat and something else, something warmer that I shouldn't be able to detect from this distance.
I force my attention to Azhrael.
He's still watching her.
I frown, moving closer to the containment barrier and extending my awareness through the rune network. The magic hums beneath my fingertips, stable and responsive, but there's a tension in Azhrael's posture that wasn't there this morning. His massive form shifts slightly, restless in a way that doesn't match the controlled stillness he usually maintains.
"Easy," I murmur, more for myself than for him. He can't hear me through the barriers—at least, he shouldn't be able to—but sometimes I swear he responds to tone more than words.
His attention finally leaves the human and settles on me, those luminous eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that would unnerve most beings. I hold his gaze steadily, letting him read whatever he needs to read in my posture, my breathing, my lack of fear.
After a long moment, he settles slightly. Not fully. Not the way he usually does. But enough.
I move on to the next enclosure, checking containment seals and magical flow, but Azhrael's behavior nags at me. He doesn't usually resist me, but even now, he doesn't look relaxed anymore. Not like he did before I appeared.
Which makes no sense when I am the only one he allows near.
I glance back toward the human. She's nearly finished with her section of walkway, working with the same methodical efficiency she showed before. She doesn't look in my direction, but I can see the slight tension in her shoulders, the awareness of being observed.
The pull in my chest returns, sharper this time.
I don't understand it. Don't want to understand it. She's a laborer. A human. Interchangeable with any other person who could scrub floors and follow basic instructions. There's no logical reason for my attention to keep catching on her, no rational explanation for the irritation crawling beneath my skin.
Except she looked at Azhrael the way someone might look at an old friend.
And Azhrael looked back.
I finish checking the remaining enclosures in silence, my movements more abrupt than necessary. By the time I circle back to the main walkway, the human has gathered her suppliesand is heading toward the exit corridor. She doesn't glance back. Doesn't acknowledge me beyond a brief nod that could mean anything or nothing.
The moment she's gone, Azhrael shifts again. His form ripples with contained power, and a low sound resonates from his enclosure—not quite a growl, not quite a rumble. Just... sound. The kind that carries meaning I'm not equipped to interpret.
I stand there longer than I should, watching him watch the empty corridor where she disappeared.
"What is it about her?" The words slip out before I can stop them, quiet enough that only the stone hears. Only Azhrael.
He doesn't answer. Beasts never do.
But his eyes glow brighter, and the restlessness in his posture doesn't fade.
3
