Worn, salt-dried planks creaked with the sway of the ocean, the air tinged with a faint musty scent that clung to every fiber of clothing. The corridor of the ship was wide enough for Aryn and Kaelen to sit against the wall facing one another, his back straight against the bulkhead and knees drawn up elegantly. Aryn leaned to the side, pushing open the door to the sleeping chambers several inches. Inside at the far corner of the room, Radriel was fast asleep in an awkward sitting position, with the knot visibly anchoring his wrists to a cot frame. Anxiety quelled once more, Aryn gently pulled the door shut before settling back into his spot.

Across from him, Kaelen lounged casually against the wall, legs outstretched across the floorboards. She stretched her arms in a wide arc.

"That's the fifth time you've checked on him in about twenty minutes. He's not going anywhere," Kaelen yawned.

Aryn glanced at her calmly. "There is nothing wrong with a little caution."

"Right," She rolled her eyes. "I'd say 'high strung' but let's go with yours instead."

He didn't answer, though he smiled politely as if she were telling a joke rather than ribbing him. Kaelen studied him stealthily when he looked away, regarding the fineness of his features that she hadn't seen on most men she knew. High, prominent cheek bones, angular jaw, and thick white lashes framing even paler eyes that looked like shining liquid mercury. His short, spiked silver hair still somehow never had a strand out of place. Even dressed in a drab grey shirt and slacks, he stood out amongst everything else.

He was staggeringly beautiful and handsome at the same time, yet in spite of his transcendent appearance, there was a sadness that surrounded him. The soft creases of his skin, the way the lids of his eyes lowered - a crushing weight of melancholy.

She supposed she knew why without having to ask.

What she didn't know was why she spoke suddenly.

"Do you think of her much? Your sister?"

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Aryn froze. Grief and the barest anger flickered across his face as he looked at her with pained eyes, and for a moment, she nearly recoiled out of instinct. A flashback of Alistair reaching for her throat - like a strike of lightning against the black sky - quick and ruthless.

But the onslaught never came.

"I think about her everyday," Aryn finally responded in a hushed voice. "I do it so that I can remember her face, her voice, her smile - even though she rarely ever did smile."

He closed his eyes. "I'm still trying to learn to live in a world where she does not."

There was no accusation or venom in his voice, only pure sorrow that punctured Kaelen directly in her gut. She didn't know what she expected from such a loaded, audacious question - yet he answered it with such thoughtfulness that made her sick to her stomach with guilt. When she angered Alistair, she was met with much more than contempt; it was not abnormal for him to beat her into unconsciousness, bruised and tender for days on end.

Kaelen had no idea how to react. She knew Aryn had every reason to hate her, suspect her, resent her - even if she hadn't been the one who dealt the killing blow to Seraphine. In the end, she was Alistair's accomplice through and through.

Even the southern doll had approached her repeatedly with unshakable kindness that left her baffled. Kaelen had chalked it up to naivety and an overly do-good attitude that both irritated and confused her to no end. But with Aryn, she could find no explanation, no benefit, no strategy to his unwarranted compassion.

It unsettled her more than anything.

For her entire life, kindness had always come with a price. It had always been a mask or a ploy used to hide a knife that always, always followed closely behind. She didn't understand how not one, but two people could offer it so freely to someone like her, who deserved nothing.

Kaelen shifted uncomfortably in her spot, fumbling for a response. To her surprise, Aryn asked her a question in return. "How did you know he was going to kill her?"

Because he told me, Kaelen thought. It had always been the plan before he sent me off.

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"Because that's… That's what he does. He enjoys hurting people. Either directly or through someone they care about. There's no other reason for it," She answered in a low voice. Her mouth felt dry, and even though she didn't divulge the entire truth, it wasn't a lie either.

"And why didn't you stop him?"

She was a nobody to me, Kaelen admitted in the privacy of her mind. She was… another body count. I didn't want to and I didn't care to.

"He would've killed me if I tried," She finally said, and that was not a lie either.

Aryn watched her carefully. He considered using his powers, but it wasn't hard to discern without them that the red-haired warrior hid more pain than she let on. He pressed gently, like peeling back the petals of an unbloomed flower. "Why did you leave?"

She swallowed deeply. "I've already told you before-"

He shook his head, silver eyes piercing through her. "I know you did. But I'm asking again - why did you leave?"

There it was again. A tender, exposed vulnerability that Naomi had also reminded her of not long ago. She had been tempted to break then, but something had stopped her. Maybe it had been a fear of embarrassment and shame, or the incessant need to act tough. But this time, in the presence of a man who was the epitome of serenity, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"His approval meant everything," Kaelen said quietly, lowering her eyes. "I did - would do - whatever he asked of me if it pleased him. Stealing. Torture. Sex. After a while, I didn't want to do it anymore. But the second he praised me…"

She looked up towards the ceiling, hoping that the reflecting light of the corridor lanterns would hide the wetness of her eyes. "...It was like being in a maze with no exits, except even then, I didn't want to climb over the hedge. I liked the roses too much even if the thorns made me bleed."

"But now that I've been away from him, from the cycle… It's never been easier to breathe."

Beneath the lantern lights, her hair flared like fire, the half-braid long discarded into a wild field of crimson locks around her shoulders. Her aqua eyes, usually so intense and angry, looked more like broken glass at her admission. The space between them stilled, silence stretching out for what seemed like eternity before he broke the lull.

"Thank you."

She looked back at him, blinking back her tears. "For what?"

"For your honesty. That couldn't have been easy to admit."

Kaelen didn't know how to react, but she couldn't look away either. She didn't know why she confessed, why her stone walls had dropped.

"You know," Aryn said quietly, "Hating you would be easy. Sometimes I want to. Some days, I think I do. But it always felt wrong. And maybe now I know why."

She almost scoffed. "Hard to believe that you of all people could hate someone. Even more unbelievable than Naomi, and that's saying something."

Aryn smiled, impossibly gentle. "I hate Alistair - and sometimes I wish I didn't, because it means I'm wasting energy on someone who doesn't deserve my effort."

"As for Naomi… I know you think you hate her," Aryn looked at her knowingly, like he had figured out something she didn't. "But… Well, I'll just say that this is the first time you've referred to her by name rather than 'doll.'"

Kaelen blinked, lost in thought at his observation.

Did she hate Naomi?

She was the opposite of everything Kaelen was, and everything she wished she could be. She had a magnificent love, one that could be seen even by a blind man from a thousand miles away - something Kaelen wished she could experience even a fraction of.

No, she didn't hate Naomi.

Not that she'd ever admit it out loud. As nauseating as it was to admit, Kaelen had a measure of admiration for the southern belle's tenacity, her optimism, her unrelenting compassion.

Once again, he had dug into her further than she thought possible.

Have I been loyal to the wrong side?

Part of her screamed to confess her deceit so that they wouldn't be condemned to death once they reached the grotto. To, for once in her life, choose someone other than Alistair. But even if she did, the only people that would be inclined to believe her were Naomi and Aryn.

The rest? She'd be lucky if they didn't throw her overboard at her confession.

The other half of her stayed hidden, dark and twisted with an illogical loyalty to a man she desperately loved for reasons she could no longer justify or explain. And despite his sympathetic words, there was a measure of caution and doubt that she had to maintain for her own safety.

But something picked at her from the inside. It was tiny, a long forgotten hope that had almost all but withered away.

Kaelen took a deep breath, and it was a miracle that her voice didn't shake. "Would you blame me if I told you I had no choice but to follow his orders?"

"Everyone has a choice," Aryn answered without skipping a beat. "That sounds like you're looking for absolution, and I won't give that to you."

"If you were on a mountain and came across two paths, but one was blocked by a landslide, do you still consider there to be more than one choice?" Kaelen shot back.

"And did you get to the mountain by yourself in the first place, or did you choose to follow someone there?" He countered quickly. Kaelen opened her mouth to speak, but Aryn held out his hand in a stopping motion. "Let me finish."

"Things are rarely black and white. You have my sympathies for what you've been through - truly. In the end, your actions were your own. No one has an obligation to understand, forgive, or even listen to you - that's all earned. But what you choose to do now from this moment on, that is yours alone to decide."

A raw anger pierced through her at his directness, and for a brief moment, she wanted to snap back. To hurl back an equally sharp insult, to bring up his worst trauma as if it could eclipse her own as a distraction, if even for a minute.

But the words died on her tongue like a snuffed flame. The thought - the very audacity - of striking back at the first person who dared look her in the eye with equal parts honesty and grace, filled her with shame.

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