"I said forget it." The growl crept back into the words. "Not every thought I let out is meant to be kept."
"Then hold them tighter. I keep only the ones you hand me." His head inclined a fraction. "But as you wish. Consider it buried."
He faced the sealed door again.
The chamber kept their breathing for a few heartbeats, mist rising and dissolving in the cold between them. Moses worked one gauntleted hand open and shut, the plates sliding over knuckles that had cracked more men than most soldiers ever stood beside. He had not clawed his way back into civilization to be lectured by Caelum. He had not spent years past the last honest map, carrying out orders no noble would ever hear whispered, only to thaw in a frozen chamber while a servant reminded him that rank in House Morgain did not always trail behind strength.
That had always been the wound.
