Then his gaze snapped past her. To me.
“Who is this?” His voice cut sharp as steel.
The warmth drained from him in an instant. His jaw set, his shoulders coiled tight, and the tenderness in his hands hardened into readiness.
Aurelia shifted half in front of him, palm flat to his chest. “Hayat, this is?—”
He pushed her behind him, firm but protective, and dropped into a low stance. The ground answered.
Soil shifted. Roots snapped. Stone cracked beneath his palms. From the churned dirt, two weapons rose—twin blades veined with living green, their edges glimmering like sap caught in moonlight.
Aurelia tried to press forward, palm flattening against his chest again. “Stop, Hayat, this is?—”
But I had already dismounted, already stepped closer, shadows curling at my heels.
His stance was wrong—too loose at first glance, but anchored underneath, a man trained to strike. His coat was finely cut, travel-worn and dyed in deep forest hues. His boots bore scuffs from rocky ground but not the caked mud of months in the wild. A scar crossed his cheek—fresh, jagged, not yet faded to white.
And his eyes—quick, assessing, wary. The eyes of someone calculating.
“Explain.” I said quietly, my voice carrying even over the restless wind. “You match the description of a man asking after Aurelia. In Nyxarra.”
Hayat’s face didn’t crack, but his throat worked, a fast swallow he couldn’t hide. His gaze flicked to her, thenback to me.
“Hayat?” Aurelia asked, her voice tight, confusion cutting across her features.
His gaze swept over her, fierce and aching.
“You asked me to stay with Aeryn,” he said, voice rough. “And I did. But then he pushed me out the door—told me to find you. Said he could handle himself.” He swallowed hard. “I thought it was the safer choice. For him. For you. I thought—gods, I thought you’d be all right. I made it only as far as the outer markets. They wouldn’t let me in.”
Aurelia’s chin lifted, fire sparking in her eyes. “I am alright. Do you not trust me? Did you not train me yourself?” Her voice sharpened. “You knew what I could do. And still you left him. You promised me.”
Hayat flinched, but didn’t back away. “I didn’t trust the woods with you,” he said hoarsely. “I couldn’t stand the thought of them swallowing you whole. It’s been so long, Aurelia.”
Her jaw clenched. “I trusted you,” she snapped. “I trusted you to keep him safe while I was gone. You should have trusted me enough to keep myself.”
The tension between them was palpable. His hand lifted as if to touch her, to bridge the space between them, but he let it fall again—knuckles flexing, jaw hard.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered instead.
The words hit heavy, weighted with years I didn’t know, promises I’d never heard. Their history pressed close between them.
And I stood outside of it, watching, listening, realizing just how much of her had belonged to someone else first.
My shadows stirred at my heels, restless with my temper. I let them.
“Enough,” I said, my voice low, colder than the air around us.
Hayat’s gaze flicked to me again. And for just an instant,something in him was familiar. A tilt of the jaw. A cast to the brow. Not enough to name, but enough to set the old scars in me aching.
“Who are they?” he asked finally, his eyes flicking to Santiago, Lysara, Gabriel.
Before Aurelia could answer, Santiago leaned back against a tree, grinning like this was a tavern introduction. “Hey, I know you?—”
“—Santiago Navarro,” Hayat cut in. His voice was clipped. “Your father’s been looking for you.”
Santiago froze, the grin hardening, then broke into a bark of laughter that rang hollow. “Doubt it. The bastard never looked for anyone but himself.”
The space between them crackled. Lysara’s hand brushed Santiago’s sleeve, subtle but steadying.