“Alright, that’s enough,” Harlow commands. 

I glance over at him, feel the green glare of his eyes, and reluctantly comply. The flames hiss as they duck below the surface, but their escape, short-lived as it was, has provided some comfort. At least I’ve stopped trembling now.

The general shakes away her trance, though her smile doesn’t reappear immediately. “Quite the party trick,” she says, the stream stumbling as it crosses turbulent waters.

“It isn’t just that,” Harlow says quietly. “He killed one of my soldiers, Oswin Ley.”

Strangely, those words don’t seem to shock her as much. If anything, they impact me more; I dip my head, paying respect to the name I seem to keep hearing on repeat.

“My theory,” he continues when she doesn’t reply, “is that he proves a certain rumour correct. I trust you know the one I mean?”

She twirls her sword in a circle almost absentmindedly, still watching me. “Ah yes. The Anathe. A charming story.”

I let the word echo, saving the way it slices from her tongue, encased in an oddly high growl. It is unfamiliar, but something about it lifts my flame. A call I did not require, yet welcome all the same.

“The cursed one, who wielded darkness itself,” he adds with a nod, confirming the sensation. “It’s not fully what I expected, but… well, he fits the brief.”

Glancing at him, she jabs her sword in my direction. “I’m all for you bringing me oddities, Harlow, but I have to say, I’m not overly fond of this one. As handsome as you are, I don’t appreciate things that can kill me.”

“He won’t harm you.” He sounds so sure that I can’t help but stare at him, taken aback. He doesn’t look at me. “He killed Oswin by accident, I suppose. Touching him proves deadly.”

“And what’s to say he won’t decide to burn me with that hideous fire of his?”

“He won’t. If he wanted to murder us all, we would be long dead by now.”

I lack the courage to speak, but I nod, reinforcing his words as truth. Or, at least, partial truth. The fire rises within me, a reminder that part of me does wish to burn their souls, for it is what they deserve. It isn’t so much a want as a desperate, hungry need.

And one I won’t listen to. I set my jaw, freezing the flames with ice.

She tosses her sword into the air, then catches it from above. “That still allows for plenty of accidental deaths, and I’m not a fan of losing soldiers outside of battles.”

Folding his arms, Harlow shrugs. “We can be careful.”

“Our soldiers don’t exactly do careful, Harlow.” She casts him a sideways glance, her smile briefly tugging at her lips. “Except you, of course. Always the cautious one. It’s why I like you.”

“They will if you tell them to. General, we can put measures in place. The important thing is getting him back to Neyaibet.”

“But why?” Spinning her sword, she passes it to her right hand, and then back to her left. Her movements with it are incredibly loose, yet she doesn’t seem concerned about stabbing herself. “This is a dead kingdom. Seems fitting to leave him here with it.”

I fail to hide my wince.

Harlow steps forward, close enough to enter the path of her dancing sword. She pulls it back, dangling it at her side, surprise flashing across her features. A spark of challenge has entered his eyes.

“On the contrary, General,” he says, “this kingdom is dying. Not dead, but dying.”

Despite her dismissive wave, I notice the way she looks down at her sword hilt, picking at its cloth covering. Either disinterest or, more likely, a way to avoid his stare. “There is little difference. It’ll be gone soon enough.”

He shakes his head. “Perhaps. Then again, this option offers a chance of revival. Particularly if a second party chooses to aid.”

Frowning, she moves away, throwing up her sword again as she paces towards the covered window. Her steps are silent, smothered by the thick threads of the floor. “You’re talking utter nonsense, Harlow. Akurin took their vow of peace nearly a century ago now, and you know how deeply rooted it is.”

“And the Tarozar?”

She slashes vaguely, blade slicing through nothing. “The Tarozar ally with us. They agreed to stay out of this little skirmish.”

“But they might be persuaded, for the right price.” 

He is moving forward, following her across the room. Hesitantly, I take a few steps, staying close enough to hear. Much of what they speak about I know scraps of thanks to a certain girl, and I’m intrigued, though I cannot deny my confusion. Why do they choose to debate this in my presence?

Spinning around to face him, she scoffs. “Oscensi has nothing to give.” The sword moves to her right hand. “Why are you pursuing this, Harlow? I could argue with you all day, of course, given how dashing you look when you’re passionate about something” -- she ignores his piercing glare -- “but I don’t see what this has to do with your prisoner.”

For a moment, he is silent. I wonder whether this is simply an old argument reawoken, and a coincidence it rears its head now. But then I see the challenge in Harlow’s eyes spark brighter, and the smile that flickers across his lips. He knows what he is doing.

General Velez stills her sword, returning it to her side as she strides towards him. Even the silence is planned, for with it he has gripped her interest. I too examine him, waiting for him to speak, barely noticing the flames that now stretch between my fingertips. The tension presses heavily on my chest.

Clearly growing impatient, she lets out a light huff. “It’s infuriating how well you wear mystery.”

Gradually, Harlow parts his lips. “Perhaps you need to get better at solving them.”