The return to the barracks was markedly different from their departure. The Guards on duty didn't just glance at Kaelen; their eyes flickered to Aris with a new, wary respect. Word of what had happened at the Ironworks had traveled fast, carried by the whispers of the city or some unseen communication among the Pyre Guard themselves.
Lysette met them at the door, her arms crossed. Her sharp eyes took in Kaelen's frost-damaged coat and the lingering intensity in Aris's posture.
"Report," she said, her tone neutral.
"Greater Wraith. Neutralized," Kaelen said, his voice back to its usual gravelly monotone. "The Theorist's... hypothesis... proved effective." He didn't elaborate, striding past her towards his private quarters, likely to tend to his injured shoulder.
Lysette's eyebrows rose slightly. She turned her assessing gaze to Aris. "Is that so?"
Aris simply nodded, too exhausted to explain the principles of kinetic energy and resonant frequency. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness and the chilling realization of how close that fight had been.
"Get some food," Lysette said, not unkindly. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or made one."
The main hall was less crowded now, with only a handful of Guards eating a late meal. Aris collected a bowl of thick stew and a hunk of bread from a large pot near the fireplace and found an empty spot at a long trestle table. She ate in silence, the simple, hearty food tasting like a feast. The events of the day replayed in her mind on a loop: the briefing, the map, the forge, the swinging hook, the look in Kaelen's eyes.
She was so lost in thought she didn't notice Rourke, the massive smith, approach until he sat down on the bench opposite her, the wood groaning under his weight. He placed his own tankard on the table and studied her for a long moment.
"Heard you saved the Commander's hide today," he rumbled, his voice not hostile, but deeply curious.
"I... I just provided a distraction," Aris demurred, uncomfortable with the label.
Rourke shook his head. "A distraction that kills a Greater Wraith is called a tactic. We don't get many new tactics around here." He took a long swallow from his tankard. "The Commander... he's a force of nature. Best of us. But he's a hammer. And when all you have is a hammer, every problem starts to look like a nail." He gestured at her with his tankard. "You... you're a different kind of tool. A pry bar, maybe. Or a wrench."
It was a clumsy analogy, but Aris understood his meaning. She offered a small, tired smile. "I just want to understand."
"Aye, well," Rourke said, standing up. "Understanding is the first step to killing. Keep at it, Theorist. That hide of his is worth saving." He gave her a nod and lumbered away.
His words lingered. That hide of his is worth saving. It was the first real acknowledgment from any of them, besides Kaelen's intense scrutiny, that she had value here. That she belonged, in some small, strange way.
Later, as she was heading back to her room, a voice stopped her in the dimly lit corridor.
"Theorist."
She turned. Kaelen was leaning in the doorway of his private study, a room she had never seen inside. He had changed his coat, and the glow from within the room cast him in silhouette. He held out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle.
"Lysette pulled these from the archives," he said. "The geological surveys you asked for."
Aris took the bundle, surprised. She hadn't expected him to remember, let alone act on it so quickly after their near-death experience.
"Thank you," she said.
He didn't respond immediately. He just looked at her, his expression inscrutable in the shadows. "Your method today... it was reckless."
Her heart sank. Was this where he reprimanded her? Told her to stay in her place?
"But it was effective," he continued, his voice low. "Do not mistake my criticism for ingratitude. I do not enjoy being in anyone's debt."
"This isn't about debt," Aris said, finding her voice. "It's about survival. My survival too."
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the crackle of the torches in their sconces. The air felt charged, as it had in the forge.
"Then we have an understanding," he said finally. "Study the maps. Find me a source."
He turned and disappeared back into his study, closing the door and leaving her alone in the corridor, clutching the bundle of surveys to her chest.
The trust was not given, but it was flickering to life, fragile and conditional. He was allowing her to work, to prove herself further. The walls of her prison were still there, but a door had just been cracked open. And on the other side was not just the path to understanding the Wraiths, but a deeper, more dangerous path into the enigma that was Commander Kaelen Vance.