Page 162

"Thank you," I whisper, because I don’t know how else to say that I see him. That I’ll never leave him behind.

Riven’s voice cuts across the table before Caspian can answer, his tone sharp, all business. "We leave in an hour."

Caspian’s smile sharpens as he leans back, but his gaze stays on me like a tether. "Good," he murmurs. "Time to tear this place apart."

Silas’ voice cuts through the weight pressing on my shoulders like a blade laced in sugar and stupidity.

“If you don’t smile in the next ten seconds, darling, I swear to the Gods and whatever back-alley demons are listening, I’m gonna set something on fire. And don’t think I won’t. I’ve got matches and bad ideas.”

I lift my gaze from the cold remnants of breakfast, catching him leaning half over the table, elbows splayed, chin propped in his palm like he’s lounging at a picnic instead of readying for war. His grin is all teeth, too wide, too bright. Elias slouches beside him, already rolling his eyes and muttering something about pyromaniac idiots under his breath.

But Silas doesn’t blink. He stares at me like he can see straight through the careful quiet I’ve built around myself this morning. Like he knows the black coil of dread winding tighter in my chest has nothing to do with Branwen, and everything to do with the ghosts clawing at the back of my skull.

I arch a brow, fighting the tug of a smile despite myself. “What are you going to light on fire? The tavern?”

“Maybe.” Silas shrugs, unrepentant. “Maybe Ambrose’s coat. Maybe Elias’ dignity, though there’s not much left of it.”

Elias flips him off without looking up, and Silas grins wider, like he’s won something.

My smile flickers at the edges, but the ache in my throat doesn’t ease. I drag a finger around the rim of my cup, circling it over and over. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your ridiculous,” Silas volleys back, voice dipping lower, softer. “And you love me for it.”

He’s right. And he knows it.

The bond between us pulses warm and steady, the only thing in this place that feels solid under my feet. I lean into it, let it wrap around me like armor even as the pit in my stomach churns.

Silas taps his fingers against the wood, voice dropping into a mock whisper. “If you don’t smile by the time we leave, Luna, I will find the prettiest, most obnoxious thing in this godsdamned realm and light it up like a festival.”

He pauses, then leans forward conspiratorially. “And if that doesn’t work… I’ll make Elias sing.”

Elias looks up, deadpan. “I already did last night.”

Silas winks. “Exactly.”

This time, I do smile. A small, reluctant curve of my lips that Silas catches like a prize, victorious and unrelenting.

But beneath it, the weight doesn’t ease. Because I know what’s waiting for us outside these walls. And this might be the last time any of us laugh like this.

Riven

I feel her trying to keep her mind wrapped tight like a goddamned vault. It grates at me, the way she shuts me out when she thinks she’s protecting me. Like I haven’t already drowned in every version of her wreckage and come up gasping for more.

She walks stiff, too quiet, her eyes darting over her shoulder like she's counting shadows. And it's not Branwen that’s got her neck craning. Not the weight of the fight ahead. It’s something else entirely, and I can taste it in the bond—like copper and smoke, like she's holding something sharp between her teeth.

I let myself in slow, careful, a knock on the heavy door she’s slammed between us.

One sec,she answers, her voice inside my head clipped, distracted.

I grind my teeth. That’s not good enough.

Luna,I press harder, pacing just behind her, pretending not to watch every fidget, every false smile she throws at Silas and Elias bickering like fools ahead of us.What the fuck is your deal? Talk to me.

Her mental sigh breezes through me like she’s trying to keep it casual, but it’s threaded with something brittle.It’s nothing. I’m fine.

Bullshit,I growl down the bond, stepping a little closer so I can reach out, fingers grazing the small of her back like Ineed to physically tether her.You're checking the woods like something’s coming for you. You’ve barely said a word all morning. And don’t feed me that fine lie, I’m not Elias—you can’t distract me with a snarky joke and your smile.

She’s quiet long enough I almost think she’ll slam the door shut again. Then, finally, her voice threads through mine, soft and sharp at once.