Page 125 of Cycle Keeper’s Shadow

None of them were.

Before the fire burned low—throwing long shadows across the uneasy quiet—Orzen’s whisperstone warmed in his pouch. It took every ounce of his will not to look across the camp toward Wren, sitting on her bedroll.

He drew a long, steady breath. Feelings carry across it, he reminded himself. Don’t get distracted. He closed his fingers around the stone.

What you did was very stupid and very brave. Her message carried a flare of relief that tangled against a frayed edge of lingering fear. You scared me. I’m glad you’re okay.

He let go like it might burn him if he held on any longer. If he wasn’t careful, he’d send something unguarded back.

He couldn’t do that, not when he was about to choose something reckless. Burn it…what could he send that wouldn’t ruin everything? He swallowed and brushed the stone again. You only keep me around because I’m brave and stupid. Don’t forget that.

A snort of laughter drifted across the camp. Wren turned, caught his eye, and gave a tiny nod, like she couldn’t agree more. Then she curled up again, her father’s cloak drawn tight around her shoulders.

Garin traced wards into the dirt, Crumb squeaking sleepily from his collar, and settled against a tree with a weary sigh.

“Only fair that I take first watch,” Silas said smoothly, “since I failed so badly earlier.” He rose, dusting his hands.

“I’ll join you,” Orzen said, meeting Silas’s gaze.

Wren stirred, half rising, her face pinched with concern.

“Safer with two sets of eyes,” he said in answer, forcing his tight shoulders to shrug casually. “Right, Silas?”

Silas’s smile thinned to a blade. “Right.”

The others settled into their bedrolls. Quiet stretched, broken only by the pop of the fire and the rasp of insects in the brush. Silas sat at the camp’s edge, crossbow balanced across his knees, his lip curled into a sneer.

Orzen chose the opposite side. Every muscle tensed. Every breath carried the heat curling inside him. He was close enough to speak low, far enough that he could get a blade up if anything went wrong.

Silas leaned in, voice quiet, edged with mockery. “How many ways have you imagined killing me?”

Bait. A hook with barbs. But he couldn’t ignore it.

“I only need one.”

Silas hummed, amused. “Sure you do.”

Orzen took the dagger and whetstone from his belt and slid it across slowly, focusing on the weight of it and the familiar scraping sound. Doing something routine was almost soothing.

Silas shifted, eyes gliding to Wren in her sleep. “You know, she talks to me. More than you think.”

Orzen’s fingers clenched around the handle of the blade.

Don’t look at her. Don’t give him that.

Silas continued anyway. He smelled tension like blood in the water. “She said you carry your anger like a shield. That you’re always waiting for a fight. Waiting for an excuse to lose control.”

The words sliced under Orzen’s ribs. They were too calculated to have really come from her. Still, his fingers slipped and the blade slid off the edge of the stone. He tucked them back into his belt.

Silas chuckled when he saw it, soft and poisonous.

“You should’ve seen her when she said it. She pities you.” He stretched, slow and controlled. “I know that’s not what you want. Must sting knowing she’ll never choose a man like you.”

Heat pooled in Orzen’s chest, shoving against the walls of his restraint. His jaw flexed, muscles aching. Ignore him, damn it.

“She knows you’re dangerous,” Silas murmured, leaning back with a confidence too calm to be anything but a performance. “She wants to trust you, but she keeps holding back. I wonder why.”

Orzen’s knuckles warmed. Not again. He could control this. He forced a steady breath through his nose, teeth clenched tight.