The air was colder now, thinner too.
Kaal was slower today, paler, quieter, his breath a little more ragged.
Lyra noticed, but she didn't say anything. If he wanted to fall over, that was on him.
She studied him again. His eyes were dark, darker than she'd realized.
They hadn't spoken much since the attack.
The mood was... tense. Not hostile, just quiet. Maybe that was better.
The trail narrowed further, winding into rock-hollow paths flanked by roots that pulsed faintly when stepped on.
"I hate this place," Lyra muttered. "Even the trees have heartbeats."
Kaal didn't disagree.
He walked beside her now. His horse had gone lame, and he'd insisted on walking rather than riding double.
Lyra had argued. He'd said nothing, just dismounted.
He did that often, refused help, offered none, walked like a shadow with a spine made of steel. So she had decided to stop offering it.
Still, she noticed how he glanced at her boots when the path turned steep. Just once. Just enough.
She almost teased him.
But didn't.
Around midday, they reached a flat stretch that curved along a cliff. The view was wide, mountains stacked into more mountains, each one sharper and darker than the last. Mist rolled in the valleys, heavy and low.
"Hold up," Lyra said, pausing. She crouched and touched the ground. It felt... strange. Not dangerous exactly. Just not normal.
Kaal stopped beside her. "What's wrong?"
"Not sure," she said. "The ground's warmer than it should be."
He looked down. "Feels fine to me."
"Of course it does," she muttered, standing.
They kept moving.
A few hours later, they found ruins tucked between two ridges. Stone walls, mostly broken down.
Some kind of old outpost, maybe even older than that. The stones were dark and covered in strange markings, spirals and lines that looked like they meant something once.
"We'll camp here," Lyra said. "Out of the wind."
Kaal didn't argue. He looked exhausted.
As Lyra walked the edge of the ruins, checking the area, she glanced at one of the carvings. She didn't know what it was supposed to mean, but something about it made her chest feel tight.
Her side itched where her birthmark was. She didn't touch it.
Kaal built the fire this time. His movements were exact.
Lyra sat beside him, arms wrapped around her knees.
"You ever been outside the palace before this?"
He shook his head. "Not far."
"Figured."
She glanced sideways. "You're strangely calm for someone who keeps almost dying."
"I'm used to the idea."
"That's a terrible reason."
He looked at her. "Then give me a better one."
She opened her mouth. Then shut it.
He returned to the fire, feeding it one stick at a time.
They settled down for night. Kaal sat against one of the leaning walls, hunched over and holding his side.
Lyra tossed him a blanket. "You're not going to be much use if you pass out on me."
"I'm not planning to," he said.
"Good. I'd hate to drag your royal bones through the mud."
He gave her a look.
She sat a few feet away, cross-legged, her back to the wall. The stone still felt strangely warm. She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Kaal again. He looked bad, sweaty, tired, barely keeping his eyes open.
"You're glowing again," she said.
"What?"
"Your veins. Look."
He glanced at his hands, then quickly pulled his sleeves down.
"I'm fine," he said.
Lyra raised a brow. " I've never seen illness that make you glow. You really think you're just sick?"
He didn't answer.
She dropped it.
The rest of the night passed slowly. The wind howled through gaps in the stone.
Lyra stayed awake longer than she needed to, watching shadows that never moved.
Kaal eventually fell asleep, breathing unevenly.
She didn't sleep. Not really.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, her assassin senses tingled
They were being watched.
But she didn't say it out loud.
Because if she was right, there wouldn't be much point.
The person or thing, as the place had shown to contain, was very careful.