The candle between them burned low, casting flickering shadows against the walls.
Neither Kael nor Riven had moved.
Their conversation had shifted—from Riven's past to something deeper, something Kael had never spoken of aloud.
Riven leaned back in his chair, watching her with that infuriatingly patient expression, the one that suggested he was waiting for her to say something she wasn't sure she wanted to.
"Your turn," he said finally.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
Riven's smirk was lazy, but his blue-green eyes were sharp. "You've learned plenty about me tonight, sweetheart. Seems only fair I get to hear about you."
Kael exhaled slowly, tapping her fingers against the armrest.
"What do you want to know?"
Riven tilted his head. "Everything."
Kael let out a dry laugh. "That's ambitious."
"I'm a very ambitious man."
Kael shook her head, glancing toward the window. Outside, the city moved on, oblivious to the ghosts sitting in this room.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then—quietly—"I don't remember much."
Riven didn't interrupt.
Kael's voice was steady, but there was something unreadable in her gaze. "I was six when my family was killed. I don't know what happened before that—what led to it, who planned it. I only remember…"
She hesitated.
Riven didn't push.
She inhaled sharply. "I remember my mother's voice. Soft, warm. I remember my father's hands, rough from training, always steady. I remember my brother laughing."
A pause.
Then, quieter—"And I remember the blood."
Riven's smirk had faded.
Kael's violet eyes flickered in the candlelight. "Everything after that was survival."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Riven exhaled, resting his chin against his hand. "You're a terrible storyteller."
Kael blinked. "What?"
Riven grinned. "That was all summary. No details, no descriptions. Tragic, really."
Kael narrowed her eyes. "I didn't realize I was supposed to entertain you."
"You're supposed to give me something interesting to work with."
Kael sighed. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
Riven's smirk softened. "Tell me about them."
Kael frowned slightly. "Them?"
"Your family."
Kael hesitated.
It had been years—more than a decade. Talking about them felt like touching something that no longer belonged to her.
But—
Something in Riven's expression made it easier.
She exhaled, leaning back.
"My mother was gentle," she murmured. "She loved music. I remember her singing to us at night."
Riven said nothing, letting her continue.
"My father was… strong. Disciplined. But he wasn't cold. He never raised his voice at us. Never made us feel small."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"And my brother…" She huffed a quiet laugh. "He was trouble. Always running, always climbing things he shouldn't. He used to steal pastries from the kitchen and blame it on me."
Riven chuckled. "Sounds like a mastermind."
Kael smirked faintly. "He liked to think so."
For a moment, she could almost hear his laughter, see him ducking behind corners, flashing that mischievous grin.
But the memory was fleeting.
And then—it was gone.
Kael's jaw tightened.
She had spent years burying these memories.
She didn't like digging them up.
Riven watched her carefully. "And after that?"
Kael let out a slow breath. "After that, I ran. I don't remember much. Just hunger. Cold. Fear."
She glanced at him. "Until Bast found me."
Riven tilted his head slightly. "How old were you?"
"Seven, maybe."
Riven exhaled. "And he took you in?"
Kael nodded. "He was… different back then. Still sharp, still ruthless, but—softer. He was already living in Ravaryn, already building his network. He gave me food, a place to sleep. And he taught me how to fight."
She tapped a finger against the armrest. "And the others."
Riven raised an eyebrow.
Kael sighed. "Bast didn't just take me in. There were others—orphans, outcasts, people who had nowhere else to go. We weren't a family, but… we protected each other."
Riven watched her, thoughtful. "Sounds familiar."
Kael smirked faintly. "Why? Were you also raised in an underground city by a group of criminals?"
Riven grinned. "No, but I was raised in a viper's nest. Different setting, same rules."
Kael huffed a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."
Silence settled between them.
But this time—it wasn't uncomfortable.
Riven leaned back, studying her. "You're different when you talk about them."
Kael arched an eyebrow. "Different how?"
Riven's smirk was lazy. "Less terrifying."
Kael rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."
"Oh, I plan to."
Kael shook her head. "You're insufferable."
"And you're warming up to me."
Kael snorted. "Delusional."
Riven grinned. "Come on, sweetheart. Admit it—you'd be lost without me."
Kael's lips twitched.
And for the first time—she didn't argue.