Bri’s escort kept a respectful pace a few steps ahead, torchlight cupped in his palm like a second moon. Moss softened their footfalls. The air had that Veil-clean smell, cold rock, living water, and something old as story.
Bri touched her throat once, as if to confirm it was still open for breath. Eira stayed near warmth braided to her heartbeat.
You did well, Eira murmured.
I didn’t lead alone, Bri thought back. Soriah listened.
Listening is leadership.
They curved along a ledge where the falls threw white silk into a blue bowl below.
Bri glanced around. “I haven’t seen anyone coming or going,” she said aloud.
The escort didn’t look back. “You won’t,” he said, voice low, almost apologetic. “In the Veil, you rarely see anyone who isn’t yours. They’re there. You just…pass through di
