“Were you?”
“Zyn.”
That made me smile. And I reached for a small leather bag that was adorned with shimmering pearls.
“You like it?” He asked, already turning toward the merchant, murmuring something I didn’t catch. A moment later, the bag was mine.
“You didn’t have to,” I said, like I had at every stall before.
He looked down at me. “You came back from the dead, Daphne. I’d buy you the moons if it made you smile again.”
His words stole my breath. I turned to stare at him, stunned by the quiet sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t teasing. His expression was solemn. In that moment, I believed him. Hewould.Who was this male?
What kind of love endured like that?
I felt a strange, absurd flicker of jealousy… directed at myself. At the version of me he had loved so fiercely. What would it feel like to be loved like that? To be remembered so completely that not even death could loosen the grip?
Toknow,without question or doubt, that someone would walk through fire and war and lifetimes just to find you again?
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or reach for him. Maybe both.
But he turned, breaking the moment like a breath of cold air, and pointed beyond the plaza. “The nictas await us outside. We’ll ride from there.”
“To Bantahar?”
“A three-day journey,” he confirmed. “We’ll stop along the way. It’s not a race.”
I exhaled and followed him through the remainder of the square, my thoughts still tangled in the echo of his words.
The plaza bustled with life, children dashed between carts, vendors shouted in languages I couldn’t place, and a street performer twirled blades in time with a woman singing a haunting melody.
I didn’t know where I fit in this chaos. I didn’t even know where I fit inmyself.
But Mallack… Mallack made space for me. With every step, every glance, he made room. Not just on the road—but in his world.
When we reached the nictas, I hesitated. I had been running on instinct and was still too confused when I fled the shrine to fully register the nature of the beast I’d commandeered. They were massive, intimidating creatures, all muscle and sinew. The nicta stood like a beast carved from ancient myths, part feline, part dragon, and all muscle. It was massive, easily twice the height of a man at the shoulder, its four powerful legs ended in clawed feet that could crush bone with a twitch. Its hide shimmered with faint scales, not quite armor but close, a natural sheen of protective plating that shifted color under the sun like oil on water, greys, silvers, and hints of deep violet.
Three horns crowned its triangular skull, dulled by their handlers, but no less intimidating. They were set above a wide, flat snout lined with heavy teeth. Its nostrils flared with each breath, snorting small clouds of steam like a creature bored of waiting. Four glowing eyes blinked lazily, twin pairs of orange-red orbs that tracked movement with unnerving precision.
The beast’s body was thick and broad, built for war and burden alike, yet its movements held a terrifying grace. Its tail, long and ridged, flicked like a whip when agitated, and its shoulders rippled with strength as it shifted, stomping the ground with a thud that made the earth shiver.
I should have been afraid. Any sane person would be. But instead, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. Like I had once run my fingers along those muscular flanks. Like I had once laughed nervously as it snorted at me, its snout pressing into my palm for a treat.
Maybe I had.
Maybe it remembered me, too. Something in me stirred. Like I’d ridden before, and not just the one wild ride down the mountain from the shrine. Like I belonged in that saddle, the wind at my back and a storm in my bones.
Behind me, Mallack’s voice was quiet. “You used to be terrified of them.”
I turned. He was smiling faintly, his arms folded across his broad chest. “You told me the first time you saw one, you tried to climb a wall to escape. Said it looked like a demon wrapped in armor.”
“That… sounds reasonable.”
“You made me promise I’d never make you ride one.”
“And you did?”
“I lied.”
