Page 138 of The Devil May Care

“Kay.”

I flinch.

Caziel’s voice is low, just behind me. I look up. He’s standing in the shadowed arch, not moving forward. His face unreadable, but his gaze burns.

“I didn’t—” I start, unsure what I’m denying, but feeing the need to all the same.

“Why are you hiding?” he asks. Not gentle.

I bristle. “I’m not.”

He steps closer, expression hard. “You didn’t come back to hide. You came back alive. And all I find is you curled up like you failed.”

I stand abruptly, knocking George to the floor. He grumbles but busies himself cleaning his hind leg.

“I just needed a minute,” I snap. “I can’t even look at the others. They’re fine. Laughing. You think I don’t see that? I needed two minutes to get my head on straight. Caziel, is that so much to ask?”

Caziel moves so fast I barely register it. One second away, the next, right in front of me.

“They’re lying,” he says, low and furious. “They might act like they don’t feel because they were trained not to. Because they were taught to dull it, or shield it, or turn their memories into weapons, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still cut.”

I swallow hard. “So, grow up because we all have problems?”

“No,” he says.

I try to look away, but he tilts my chin up, just enough to meet his eyes. “And you’re still here.”

That burns. My throat tightens.

“Then why does it still feel like I’m unraveling?”

Caziel lets his hand fall.

And for a moment, he just looks at me like he’s choosing between five different answers and hates them all.

Then he turns on his heel and says, “Come with me.”

I blink. “Where—?”

“To end this self-pity spiral.”

“Caz—”

“Bring the cat.”

He doesn’t wait.

“You can’t just drag me all over your goddamn castle,” I mutter, but it’s like talking to a wall and I’m already following him down the stone steps like a baby duck imprinted on a wolf.

The Ember Chamber breathes. I can feel it as soon as I cross the threshold—an almost imperceptible shift in the air, like stepping into a room that’s watching me. I’m getting sick of this room. Caziel says nothing as we descend. His steps are steady, his expression unreadable,but there’s a tightness in his shoulders I’ve learned to recognize. Not fear. Not anger.

Reverence.

George pads ahead of us, tail high, ears perked. He should be anxious, the room is alive with heat and energy, the walls webbed with glowing emberstone veins, but he struts forward like he owns the place. He even gives the towering flame a slow blink as he circles it, brushing the edge of his tail through a curl of fire.

The Flame moves. Not violently. Not dangerously. Just enough to lean into the contact. To acknowledge him. Or me. I stop walking. The Flame rises again, just a little higher than before, brightening in a pulse that sets the stones aglow.

“What the hell—” I whisper.