My breath caught. I almost laughed, bitter and broken. “I had nearly forgotten it.”
“Then I will not let you forget again.” Her voice was soft, but the vow in it struck harder than steel.
And for the first time in a century, I felt real again.
Her hand lingered in mine for a breath too long. When she withdrew, the cold returned. Sharper this time, almost painful. I clenched my fist, holding the ghost of her touch.
I forced myself to retreat half a step, to reclaim the distance I had allowed to collapse between us. “A truce, then,” I said, thewords rougher than I intended.
“For now,” she replied, lifting her chin. Defiance etched every line of her, but beneath it, I saw the faint tremor of her pulse at her throat. She was no less shaken by what had just passed than I.
She moved back a step, composing herself. “If you betray me, I will burn down your forest until nothing remains,” she warned. Her voice was steel again, but the faint tremor in it betrayed the storm beneath.
I inclined my head. “If you betray me, I will drown Solaris in shadow.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then we are both fools.”
“Perhaps,” I admitted. “But at least we are fools who seek the same truth.”
The shadows around us pulsed, unsettled. They did not like this. They wanted blood, dominance, silence. Not compromise. But I ignored them. For the first time in a century, I chose to ignore them.
“Ground rules,” she continued briskly, as if clinging to formality could erase the strangeness that had sprung between us. “If this is to work, there must be boundaries.”
“Very well,” I said, folding my arms. “What boundaries do you propose?”
“You will not approach Solaris,” she said immediately. “Not its walls, not its villages, not its people.”
The demand stung, though I had expected it. “I have not set foot near your city in half a century. Your Paladins see to that.”
“Swear it again,” she pressed, her golden eyes hard.
I exhaled, the sound carrying centuries of weariness. “Very well. I will not approach Solaris while this truce holds. Unless—” I paused. “I am in your presence.”
Her expression softened a fraction, enough to reveal how desperately she wanted to believe. She nodded.
“And you,” I countered, “will not send Paladins into my forest without cause. No raids. No hunts. No holy crusades under cover of night.”
Her jaw tightened. “My Paladins protect our people.”
“From what? Shadows that do not leave the tree line?” My voice sharpened, patience fraying. “Do not mistake aggression for protection. If they set foot here, they come for blood. You know it.”
She did not answer at once. Her silence was answer enough.
Finally she said, “If they are ordered, I cannot stop them.”
I stepped closer, shadows stirring at my heels. “You are High Priestess. If you cannot command them, then your vow means nothing.”
Her nostrils flared. For a moment I thought she would refuse outright, but then her shoulders eased. Only slightly, but enough. “I will hold them back, if I can. That is the most I can promise.”
It was not enough, but it was something. And after a century of nothing but war,somethingwas more than I had dared hope for.
I inclined my head. “Then we are agreed.”
The forest seemed to exhale around us. The tension, though not gone, loosened like a bowstring released.
Still, suspicion coiled in her every movement. She paced a step away, her cloak brushing against the moss, her fingers toying with the hilt of the dagger at her belt.
I did not press further. Seeds need silence to root.
