Ashwing tilted his head from where he lay coiled at the bed's edge, voice small in Lindarion's mind. 'Do you think they'll let us stay after?'
Lindarion's eyes opened, pale and sharp in the lantern's glow. "No."
'Then what will we do?'
"We will be ready," he said simply. "When they tell us to leave, we will leave stronger than we came. And if the world closes its doors…" His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. "…we will carve them open."
A soft rustle stirred near the door. Shadows shifted faintly, curling along the floor before receding again. Nysha. Watching. She hadn't entered, hadn't spoken, but she lingered.
Lindarion didn't call to her. He let her shadows fade.
The bed creaked faintly as he lay back, exhaling at last. His chest burned still, the ache of battle and strain refusing to leave, but Selene's lingering warmth steadied it. He closed his eyes, though sleep did not claim him quickly.
