“Enough,” Vaedros says.
There’s no edge to it. No command sharpened into control. Just certainty.
I blink, and the visions collapse inward, fragments dissolving too quickly to follow, leaving behind only the pressure and the dull echo of what I almost saw.
The world settles. Slowly.
His other hand lifts, and for a second I think he’s reaching for something else, for a weapon, for movement, but instead his thumb brushes just beneath my nose, catching the blood before it can fall further.
The touch is careful. Too careful for someone like him.
“You’re pushing too far,” he says quietly.
“I was close.”
“You say that every time.”
I let out a slow breath, steadier now, though my head still aches with the remnants of it. “And I’m usually right.”
“Usually isn’t enough when it costs you this.”
His eyes hold mine, sharper now, focused in a way that has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with assessment. Not of the future.
Of me.
I reach up to wipe the blood away, but he catches my hand before I can, holding it briefly in place.
“I’ve got it,” he says.
There’s something in the way he says it that stills the motion before I can argue.
He uses a strip of cloth instead, slower than necessary, more deliberate than efficient, cleaning the trace of blood with a precision that doesn’t match the urgency of the situation.
“You’re wasting time,” I say, though there’s less force behind it now.
“And you’re wasting yourself,” he replies.
I don’t answer.
His hand lingers a moment longer at my jaw than required, before he pulls it back, and the absence of it feels more noticeable than it should.
“Your turn,” I say quietly, shifting the focus before it settles too deeply.
He doesn’t ask what I mean. I move closer, my hand finding the bandage at his side without hesitation. The fabric has shifted slightly when he moved earlier, not enough to reopen the wound, but enough to matter if left.
“You’re bleeding again,” I say.
“Minor.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
There’s the faintest shift in his expression at that, something almost familiar now.
I adjust the bandage carefully, tightening it just enough to hold without restricting him, my fingers careful despite the lingering ache behind my eyes.
His gaze stays on me the entire time. Not guarded. Not distant. Just… there.
“You’re distracted,” he says.