Chapter 37: Firelight Promises II
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"The look you used to have when you wanted to smile but refused," Lily said.
Sekhmet stared at her.
"I do not refuse," he said.
Lily’s brows lifted.
"You are refusing right now," she said.
Sekhmet sighed, low and tired.
"Stop watching me like that," he muttered.
Lily leaned forward a little, elbows on her knees.
"Like what," she asked, innocent in tone and guilty in eyes.
Sekhmet held her gaze for a moment too long, then looked away, back at the fire.
"The way you used to," he said quietly.
Lily’s expression softened again, something almost wistful passing through her eyes.
"I used to watch you because you were always leaving," she said.
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened.
"I was a child," he said.
"So was I," Lily replied.
Sekhmet breathed out slowly.
The firelight flickered across his face. The shadows moved like memories.
He did not want to talk about leaving.
Leaving was a wound.
Leaving was what caused people to become strangers.
Yet here she was, not a stranger, sitting across from him as if time had bent for her alone.
Lily’s voice dropped lower.
"When I came back after seven years," she said, "I thought you would still be in Slik. I thought I would walk into the city and you would be there, still... you."
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you were disappointed," he said.
Lily shrugged.
"I was angry," she corrected. "Because you were gone. And nobody told me where you were. Your father would not speak about it. He just... smiled politely and changed the subject."
Sekhmet’s lips pressed together.
"That sounds like him," he admitted.
Lily’s gaze sharpened.
"I asked your uncle," she continued. "He said you were training in purgatory and would return when your time was done."
Sekhmet exhaled.
"And you believed him," he said.
Lily tilted her head.
"I tried," she said honestly. "But after a year, then two, then three... I stopped believing time would bring you back. So I decided I would go find you."
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed again.
"That is stupid," he said bluntly.
Lily smiled.
"Yes," she agreed. "It was."
Sekhmet blinked.
He expected her to argue.
Instead, she admitted it so easily that he did not know how to respond.
Lily leaned back, watching the fire.
"I did not come alone," she said. "My father would never allow it. He argued for days. He threatened to lock me in the manor. He offered me everything —rings, titles, permission to travel anywhere else— just not purgatory."
Sekhmet’s gaze flicked to her, surprised.
"And you still came," he said.
Lily’s smile returned, stubborn.
"I still came," she confirmed.
Sekhmet stared at her for a long moment.
"She has always been like this."
Even when she was twelve, she was stubborn. She chased what she wanted without shame. She fought servants and tutors with words and tears and threats, and somehow she always won.
Now, that stubbornness has grown sharper.
It had survived training.
It had survived years.
It had brought her into purgatory and kept her alive long enough for him to find her.
Sekhmet’s voice came out lower.
"You could have died," he said.
Lily met his gaze.
"I could have," she agreed. "But I did not."
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened again, not with anger now but with the deep, quiet frustration of someone who cared and hated that he cared.
"Do not do it again," he said.
Lily’s brows lifted.
"Do what," she asked.
"Throw yourself into danger for a reason that sounds romantic in your head," Sekhmet replied.
Lily’s cheeks colored again, faint but visible in the firelight.
"I did not come for romance," she said quickly.
Sekhmet’s mouth twitched.
"You came to find something," he said, reminding her.
Lily nodded.
"Yes," she said, calmer now. "And to find you too."
Sekhmet stared at the fire, feeling the warmth on his hands.
He did not know what to do with the second part.
He had never been good with emotions. Even as a child, he treated feelings like messy paint. He preferred clean lines, clean plans, clean survival.
But Lily did not belong to clean lines.
Lily belonged to chaos.
Soft chaos.
The kind that laughed and demanded attention and refused to be forgotten.
Bat Bat crawled off Lily’s lap and waddled over to Sekhmet’s knee, then climbed up his leg like a tiny determined soldier.
"Bat Bat tired," it announced.
Sekhmet stared at it.
"You were sleeping on her lap," he said.
Bat Bat nodded.
"Yes. Now I sleep here."
Sekhmet sighed.
Bat Bat curled up on Sekhmet’s thigh like it was the most comfortable bed in the world.
Within moments, it was snoring softly.
Snrrrk...
Lily watched the bat with a small smile.
"It really trusts you," she said.
Sekhmet’s voice came out quieter.
"It is bound to me," he said carefully, choosing the truth that did not reveal the deeper truth.
Lily nodded, then asked softly, "Do you trust it?"
Sekhmet hesitated. Then he answered honestly. "Yes," he said.
Lily’s gaze softened again. Then she asked the next question gently, like testing the edge of a blade.
"Do you trust me?"
Sekhmet’s eyes lifted to hers.
The guards around the camp were quiet. The fire crackled. The night held its breath.
Sekhmet did not answer quickly.
Trust was a dangerous word. Trust killed people in purgatory. Trust makes you turn your back at the wrong moment. Trust makes you think you could sleep deeper than you should. But Lily was not a stranger. And she had proven something tonight.
She had not demanded answers. She had not pressed him to reveal secrets. She had listened. She had waited. She had survived.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly. "I trust you more than most," he said.
Lily’s smile was small but real. "That is the most romantic thing you have ever said," she teased.
Sekhmet frowned. "That was not romantic," he said.
Lily leaned forward, eyes bright. "It was," she insisted.
Sekhmet sighed. "I am not trying to be romantic," he muttered.
Lily’s smile softened into something gentler. "I know," she said. "That is why it is romantic."
Sekhmet stared at her. He had no defense against that logic. He turned his gaze back to the fire, letting the heat press into his palms.
"This is dangerous."
Not the monsters. Not the ridges. Not the eight-thousand battle power leader he killed earlier.
This. Sitting with someone who knew him. Feeling something that had nothing to do with blood thirst or survival.
That was dangerous. Because it reminded him he was still human. And being human in purgatory was not always an advantage. Especially when he needs to drink blood for living.
Crackle...