Page 84 of The Ninth Element

He stares at me, his gaze intense, burning into me. The silence stretches, thick and heavy. He doesn’t speak, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes, a flicker of something that makes my stomach clench with a sudden, sharp anxiety.

I’ve said too much. Far too much.

His hand clamps around my arm, not painfully, but with a possessive grip that hauls me to my feet. “How did you find out?”

It is not a question. It is ademand.

“What do you mean?” I stall, but my eyes are betraying my nervousness.

“Arien.” The single word is a warning, a clear signal that he won’t tolerate lies or evasions, as his eyes bore into me.

My mind struggles to find a way out of this. I could lie, but… what’s the point? This is Zanyar Zareen. He’s not some gullible fool I can easily manipulate. And a rebellious voice whispers:Why should I lie?

“I overheard something,” I admit, lifting my chin.

“What did you hear?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t release my arm.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know, and then I’ll tell you what I heard.”

“Arien.”

My name, again…

It’s infuriating, this fake familiarity as if he has some right to use my name and to demand answers from me.

“It’s a give and take, isn’t it?” I retort, injecting a deliberate coolness into my tone. “Zaannyyaarr.” I draw out each letter of his name as a pointed, childish act of rebellion.

His jaw ticks, the only outward sign of his irritation. It’s a fleeting crack in that impenetrable mask he wears, and it sends a pang of satisfaction—and, admittedly, a flicker of apprehension—through me. I expect the usual intimidation tactic, the icy stare meant to freeze me in my tracks. Instead, I see a barely perceptible biting of his inner cheek. Zanyar Zareen, the master of icy control, is nervous.

But his next words wipe the smugness right off my face. “This isn’t a game, Arien.” His voice is low and deadly serious. “This is about the fate of our kind, of theworld. If you know about the Star, then you’re entangled in something far more dangerous than you can imagine.” He pauses, his gaze searching mine. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The sincerity in his voice, the unexpected concern, throws me off balance. “Then tell me. Explain the dangers so I can protect myself.” I demand as a defense against the sudden, unwelcome tremor of fear that snakes through me.

Zanyar closes his eyes for a long moment, and a sound of weary resignation escapes him. When he opens them again, the intensity is gone, replaced by something that looks almost like… defeat. “A deal, then. You tell me what you know, and I’ll answer your questions. Honestly.”

I consider this offer. It’s unfair. I’m laying my cards onthe table while he’s only promising answers, which I’m sure will be carefully chosen. But I’m drowning in questions, and he’s the only lifeline within reach, especially now that Darian has decided I’m not worthy of the truth. This might be the best deal I’ll get.

“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He simply stares at me with a silent, arrogant assertion that his word is his bond. That he isabovelying.Of course.

“All right,” I concede. “I overheard Martysh folks talking about an object, something capable of unimaginable power and changing the foundation of the world, they said. Its pieces are scattered across the continent, and they are named after the elements of creation. It sounds suspiciously like the Star of the Faith, like the story of the nine sisters.”

Zanyar’s face turns to granite, every muscle taut, his eyes hardening into chips of ice. He’s trying to hide his reaction, but the shock is there. “And who else knows about this?”

“That wasn’t part of the deal. I am the one asking questions.”

Zanyar looks at me with obvious annoyance. “You were supposed to tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” I retort, forcing myself to hold his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. I didn’t lie. I just… omitted a few details.

He takes a deep breath, a slow, controlled inhalation, and looks up at the sky as if searching for divine intervention—or maybe just patience.

“What is this Star?” I ask, pressing my advantage, refusing to let him off the hook.

Silence. He ignores the question, his gaze fixed on some distant point as a deliberate tactic to regain control.

“You promised to answer my questions.”

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