Sparks and Shadows

The passage filled with boots and shouts. Kael moved like a blade through water. He guided Avery back through the door and up the narrow stair. He did not touch her except with the air of his hand. His eyes found every corner.

In the small room he dropped the bar. The lamp fell to a soft glow. He stood with his ear to the wood. The noise outside rose. It shifted. It faded to a hum.

He turned. His face was set. His voice stayed almost calm.

“No more,” he said. He touched his lips with two fingers and lowered his hand. Quiet. He touched the floor. Stay.

Heat moved through her. Fear moved with it. She stood straight. She kept her voice low.

“I could not breathe,” she said. “I needed air.”

He did not understand the words. He understood the music inside them. He answered with a slow careful line. He pointed to her and to his chest. He spread his hand to take in the room and the walls and the night. He shook his head once.

She pressed her palms to the table. She felt small and trapped and grateful. All at once. It stung her eyes.

He stepped closer. He reached past her for the scarf. His hand brushed her wrist. Heat leaped across her skin.

He felt it. He stilled. His eyes flicked to her face and away.

He set the scarf into her hands and showed a simpler wrap. His voice softened. He lifted his own hands to show the motion.

They stood too close. The scar near his temple caught the light. A small notch marked his ear where a blade had once kissed him. He smelled like smoke and clean steel and rain.

Her fingers fumbled. The scarf slipped. His hand rose to fix it. His thumb grazed the inside of her wrist.

Her breath caught. His jaw tightened. He stepped back at once to give her space.

He spoke without looking at her. The tone carried apology. It carried rule.

She finished the wrap and sat. He turned to the table and studied a map. He moved a small iron weight. He traced a road with his finger. His mind ran on raids and orders and the new decree. It also watched the door.

Avery watched him. The armor was not all iron. Some places let the light in.

A soft knock came. Kael opened the door a hand’s width. A man in a dark cloak slid inside. A hood shadowed his hair. His eyes were keen. He looked at Avery once and then at Kael.

They spoke in low voices. The man had news. The court had asked in the open for the outsider. A priest had promised reward for any report. The city would hunt.

Kael’s mouth thinned. He nodded once. He spoke a name. The hooded man flinched and nodded. He slipped out as quiet as he had come.

The room felt smaller. The air felt heavy. Even the lamp seemed to dim.

Kael looked at Avery. He set his hand on his chest. He set his hand on the table. He spoke one even line.

He would keep her safe as long as he could.

She believed him. She hated that she needed him. Both truths pulled at her.

Morning came like a slow bruise. Gray touched the shutter. Kael brought porridge and thin tea. She ate with shaking hands. He watched the door.

Later he took her to a small inner yard where no one else walked. He showed her how to move. He taught a bow that would not look like a challenge. He showed where to stand in a room. He taught how to speak with her eyes. She learned fast. Fear sharpened her.

They traded words. Door. Water. Fire. Bread. Yes. No. Please. Thank you.

He pointed to himself. “Kael.”

She pointed to herself. “Avery.”

He nodded. A small smile touched his mouth and then left.

She smiled back before she could stop it.

At midday they returned to the room. He set his sword on the table and cleaned the blade. She washed bowl and cup in the basin. The quiet felt almost normal. It was not normal at all.

A footstep paused outside. A shadow slid under the door.

Kael reached for the sword.

The door opened before his hand found the hilt.

A narrow man in a dark coat stepped inside and leaned against the door with easy grace. Pale eyes moved from Kael to Avery and back. He smiled without warmth. She knew him from the doorway in the city.

“Commander,” he said. The word had a soft edge.

Kael did not answer.

The man tilted his head. His gaze rested on Avery. “She speaks in a strange way,” he said as if tasting the shape of each sound.

Cold slid along Avery’s skin.

He turned his face toward the hall and called in a light voice that carried.

“You were right. She is the one.”

Boots thudded outside. More than two. Many.

He lowered his voice for the room.

“The priest will be pleased.”

Avery’s heart hammered.

Kael moved.

The spy smiled.