“And the Ember Maw?” I ask. “That’s the hellcats?” I think I pulled a muscle in my brain trying to remember what Sarai had said about them the other night.
“Yes.”
He meets my eyes. “They are not folklore.”
I shiver slightly.
“They hunt us? Sorry, you?”
“They hunt anything.” His jaw tightens. “They are unpredictable. Fast. And worst of all—intelligent.”
“And the boogeymen right across the border?”
He nods once.
“But living like that,” I say quietly, “always braced for attack… doesn’t that kind of fear create more danger?”
He closes the book to look at me. His expression is shuttered but I catch the spark of surprise.
“No one’s ever asked that.” He closes the book. “It creates exhaustion. Division. Compliance.”
He exhales. “The Ember Maw are dangerous, yes. But they’re not legion. They’re a nuisance, albeit a deadly one.”
I blink. “Then why all the drills? The weapons? The constant threat level midnight? Captain Iskar says all Daemari are trained in combat?”
“Because the threat has been inflated,” he says, voice low. “By my father. And others. Fear is persuasive. And fear of invasion is the easiest kind to weaponize.”
“You think it’s a manipulation.”
“I think I’m trying to find the truth at the heart of the conflict.” He gestures to the book on his lap. “There were attacks. But there are gaps. Patterns that don’t make sense. Numbers that rise only when elections—or public rituals—approach.”
“Like when contenders start being marked for the Rite?”
“Something exactly like that.”
“Is there a reasonable explanation?”
“Yes,” Caz frowns at the text, turning another page. “But reasonable doesn’t always mean true.”
We fall back into reading, but something’s different now. The air feels looser. Like the tension that’s always wrapped around Caziel’s spine has uncoiled just enough to breathe. He still doesn’t talk much—but when he does, it’s not clipped or corrective. It’s… curious. Engaged.
And when I lean over to show him a passage I don’t understand and our shoulders brush, He doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
“Okay,” I say, breaking the silence, “if we’re going to keep doing this, I think we need to agree this is basically a study date.”
He looks up. Blinks. “A… date?”
I grin. “You know—two people spending time together. Learning things. Pretending it’s not weird they’re staring at each other.”
He tilts his head. “There’s nothing pretend about it.”
I flush, warmth creeping up my neck, and my heart kicks hard in my chest, but He doesn’t elaborate. Just turns another page.
“I’m better like this,” I say after a moment. “Talking. Joking. It’s how I learn. Sitting in a room alone trying to memorize diagrams? Not my strong suit.”
Caziel considers that. “Then we’ll adjust the approach.”
“Really?”
