The fire popped. One soft crack. Then the wood shifted and settled.
Lira stayed where she was, legs drawn up, hands wrapped around one wrist. Her eyes weren't on him now. Just the flames. But she was still listening.
Lindarion watched her for a moment longer. The way she didn't fill the silence with something polite. The way she didn't fidget or try to make it easier.
He appreciated that more than he'd say.
He turned his gaze back to the embers.
"They had a reason for it," he said quietly. "Or maybe they told themselves they did."
Lira didn't interrupt.
"I heard them talking. When they thought I was unconscious. Or dead."
His voice didn't shake. Just slowed a little.
"They kept saying it had to be done. That they were testing something. That I was special."
Lira's head tilted slightly. Not surprised. Not confused. Just waiting.
"I still don't know what they wanted," he said.
"You will," she said.
He looked over at her.
Her face was calm. Not gentle. Not soft. Just… steady.
"I've seen that look before," she said. "The one you keep pulling. Like the floor might vanish if you blink."
"I'm not scared of them," Lindarion said. "Not anymore."
"But I am tired of not knowing."
Lira leaned her head back against the wall. "Then find out."
He arched an eyebrow.
"That's your advice?"
"Figure out what they wanted."
Lindarion huffed. Almost a laugh. Not quite.
"I'm not a strategist," she said. "I just like knowing where the knives are pointed."
Then asked, "Why'd you actually leave your court?"
Lira didn't answer right away.
She shifted. Eyes unfocused now, like memory was something hanging from the rafters and she was trying to decide if it was worth pulling down.
"They wanted me to kill someone," she said.
She didn't elaborate.
Then, "Did you like them?"
"I didn't know them."
Lindarion tilted his head.
"That made it worse," Lira said. "Would've been easier if they were cruel. Or arrogant. Or loud."
"Just scared. Same as me."
He watched her hands. They hadn't moved once. Still folded, knuckles pale.
"I never went back after that," she said. "Didn't even pack."
'So she left everything just to not become something she hated.'
"That's not weakness," Lindarion said.
"No," Lira said. "But it's still a scar."
The fire cracked again.
This time, it startled neither of them.
Lindarion's voice came softer.
Lira looked at him. Not with the sharpness from earlier. Not with that watching-stillness. Just clear eyes, and a breath that seemed heavier than the room.
"I miss who I thought I could be there."
Silence stretched again. The good kind.
The kind that said everything real had already been said.
Then Lindarion spoke once more.
"You said I deserve to sit wherever I want."
He glanced at the others, still sleeping. Then back to her.
"Do I deserve to go back?"
Lindarion didn't look away.
The answer had landed heavier than he thought it would.
Not sharp. Not cold. Just… true.
He pulled his knees a little closer. Let the heat from the fire soak in at the edges.
"You mean just by surviving?" he asked.
Her voice was level. Not soft, not cruel. Just steady.
"You're going back every time you think about it. Every time you remember it and don't fall apart."
He frowned a little. Not in disagreement.
'That sounds like something people say when they don't have a real answer.'
She must've read the look on his face, because she went on.
"Going back doesn't always mean physically. Doesn't always mean today. But the moment you stopped running from it and started looking toward it… that's the first step."
He looked down at his hands.
They weren't shaking.
"I don't think I should go alone," he said.
Lira's mouth tilted. "You're right."
"I should bring allies magbe,"
"You're still right."
He glanced over. "You volunteering?"
Lira blinked once. "Are you asking?"
He let out a slow breath through his nose.
"Then I won't answer yet."
The fire crackled again. A softer pop this time, like it had finally decided to settle in with them.
Lira reached over and shifted one of the logs, nudging it into place with a stick. She didn't break eye contact.
"What's your plan when you get back?"
"Find out who ordered the kidnapping," Lindarion said. "Then decide what happens next."
Lira nodded like she'd expected that answer.
"And if they're high up?"
"Then they fall further."
He didn't say it like a threat.
Lira sat back again, arms folding over her chest.
"You'll need more than just skill to pull that off."
That one hit a little harder.
Lindarion looked away. Let his eyes trace the patterns in the stone wall.
'Trust. Right. That old thing.'
"I don't give it easily," he said.
"Good," Lira replied. "Because it's not cheap."
They were quiet again. But it didn't stretch awkwardly. Just sat with them like a third person at the fire.
Lindarion finally turned back to her.
"Why are you still awake?"
Lira raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd let a prince and three half-dead misfits sleep under my roof without keeping one eye open?"
"Technically it's your floor," he said.
She gave the smallest smile. "Exactly."
He mirrored it. Barely.
"I'll be leaving soon," he said after a long moment. "Maybe in a day. Maybe two."
"You'll be welcome back," Lira said.
He looked at her again. Something behind the quiet gaze. Something that didn't need explaining.
"I'll remember that."