She turned to face him directly, her liquid gold eyes intense in the darkness. "You're not cursed. You're just powerful, and people with power attract attention from those who want to exploit or eliminate that power. It's not mystical destiny—it's simple politics and greed."
"When did you become so practical?" Jorghan asked, a slight smile touching his lips despite the heaviness in his chest.
"When I fell in love with someone who needed practical instead of poetic," she replied, leaning against him. "You have enough drama in your life without me adding flowery philosophy to it."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching stars wheel overhead. The desert night was cold and clear, beautiful in ways that still caught Jorghan off-guard despite weeks of living here.
"Sigora wants to talk to you," Sarhita said eventually. "About Grace. Apparently, there's been a development."
Jorghan felt tension return to his shoulders. "What kind of development?"
