Lindarion crossed to the side of the room, leaned against the wall. The chill of the stone seeped through his coat.
"You already know what I'm going to ask?"
Erebus gave a humorless sound. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a grunt.
"I know you," he said.
Lindarion didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
Erebus finally looked up.
His eyes were sharp as ever, like smoke that hadn't chosen which way to drift.
He picked up the smallest blade and turned it slowly in his fingers. "The girl you wanted to, did she talk to you?"
"Not in words."
"Did you…touch her?"
Lindarion's mouth twitched. "Almost."
"That's a yes."
"No," Lindarion said. "It's a survived-no."
Erebus nodded once, as if that made sense.
It did.
In their language.
"I need to call the council," Lindarion said.
"I figured."
"And after that—"
"We move."
"Not yet," Lindarion said. "We need to understand the pattern. The glyphs weren't random. They were placed."
"Traps?"
"Locks."
Erebus raised a brow.
