After three days, I couldn’t wait anymore. With each new dawn, I’d posted myself at Lia’s bedside, hunched over and praying she would open her eyes. And with each dusk, my prayers went unanswered. The worst part was, even if I wanted to remain at her side longer, I couldn’t—not with my father dispatching Guardians to retrieve me. I was surprised he’d waited this long to send them, but based on what his brief reply stated, there was too much going on in Ellede.

He didn’t elaborate.

But remembering the blood and mud that had once mucked the Medallion, it took little for my mind to conjure scenarios. I clutched it tighter in my hands as I glanced at Lia, still unconscious in a stranger’s bed. After slipping the wrapped Medallion under her pillow, I treaded nervously toward the parlor, and despite myself, my eyes fell to where Lia had lain bleeding only days ago. While the blood had been cleansed, the haunting shadow of it on the wooden floor and table remained as a testament of the ordeal.

Our hosts were nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best. I hadn’t seen much of them these past couple of days, outside of Nik bringing me dinner each evening I’d been camped by Lia’s side. He never stayed long, never offered conversation, but it was his steadfast presence that eased my burden more than any well-thought word could’ve.

A rumble of speech filtered its way to my ears. I turned my gaze toward the side of the kitchen and recognized the voices on the other side of the wall. One voice was abrasive, the other, gentle, but neither owners were on my list of people I wanted to speak to at the moment. I opened the front door, careful not to let it slam shut behind me.

My hand instinctively shot up, shielding my eyes from the brilliant sunrise peeking through the trees. The scenery before me was stunning, with the sun painting the tree trunks in shimmering gold and the tall grass swaying in the soft breeze. In another time, I might’ve marveled at its beauty a while longer, but urgency gripped me now. Time was slipping away, and I had no luxury for admiration. I was due to meet the Guardians shortly after dawn, just outside the village. The last thing I needed was them coming to look for me, drawing attention to whom I was leaving behind.

As I stepped down from the porch, the voices of the men grew louder. Peeking around the corner, I recoiled in an instant, cursing silently and hoping Maqui hadn’t caught sight of me. There they were, Maqui and Nik, at the heart of a blacksmith shop connected to the side of the house. The double doors were wide open, giving the hazy smoke another mouth to exhale from. A familiar, earthy scent hung in the air, reminiscent of festive feasts, offering a strangely comforting embrace despite the tension in my chest.

Seizing the opportunity while the men were engrossed in their conversation, my gaze lingered longer. The walls were adorned with an impressive array of shields, a mix of metal and wood, each one intricately crafted with ornate designs. Though lacking any distinct insignias, they possessed a timeless beauty, blending form and function seamlessly. Alongside them, a display of formidable weapons hung proudly from brackets, including broadswords, battle axes, and pikes, filling the gaps where the shields did not reach. Throughout the shop, racks held unfinished weapons in various stages of completion, hinting at the skilled craftsmanship at work. Charcoal glowed red in the hearth at the far corner.

“Might we talk about, literally, anything else?” Nik pulled a sword from a rack and inspected it. His long hair was tied back, which struck me as a little atypical considering that until now, I’d only ever seen him with his hair hanging loose. Made sense, I supposed. The shop seemed dangerous enough without worrying about hair as an obstacle. He gripped the hilt and turned his wrist from side to side. Muscles flexed with each movement.

Maqui crossed his arms in front of him, a deep crease sinking between his brows. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this shit is quite time-sensitive.” Dark brown hair hung above his shoulders in loose waves. His hand reached up to scratch the scruff on his jaw, and he shifted to face the doorway.

I shrunk back around the corner, my shoulder blades pressed firmly against the bricks.

“A little trust never hurt anyone.”

Maqui clicked his tongue. “Trusting the wrong person will leave you dead. You know that.” A pause. “Here, let me see.”

“It’s still got a little wave at the tip, but I’ll hammer it out later.” Another pause. “Besides, if you can’t trust a priestess, who can you trust? Daluyans are supposed to be honest folk, yeah?”

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of me. I shouldn’t be lurking or eavesdropping, and yet, my feet refused to move. I listened closely for Maqui’s answer, but his response was too low for me to understand. All signs, however, pointed toward it being a chide remark.

I hadn’t had much personal contact with those outside of Ellede. Where I was from, everyone knew of and respected the Daluyan. The community understood the role of my people, and what we were capable of—and what we were not. Those who lived in small villages usually held less reliable standards for the teachings of the gods, and these two men seemed to prove my assumption. Only those who cared to make regular pilgrimages to festivals and temples in the name of the gods were truly educated in the creed.

I rolled my shoulders back, shrugging off their conversation.

Aion was waiting. I hadn’t seen him since we’d arrived, and the guilt of that realization hunched my shoulders once more. The men’s discussion continued, only interrupting when they both chuckled. I slipped around the porch to the opposite side of the house, then found the stable tucked away. Gently, I slid the door open, but it didn’t prevent the wheels from groaning against the track.

The sweet yet dusty scent of hay greeted me as I entered. Dawn filtered through the small windows positioned high on the walls, casting gentle beams that danced across the floor. Although all four stalls were occupied, only one horse here held my attention. Aion nickered at my presence.

“Hello, handsome.” I looked him over. Not a speck of that disastrous night remained on his coat. Even fresh shoes glinted from the bottom of his hooves. I glanced around for his saddle and reins and found them hanging on a nearby stand with the saddle blanket.

They, too, had been cleansed, but it didn’t stop my mind from imagining the blood that had once made the reins too slippery to hold. Didn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling downward as I stared at my hands and still felt—but didn’t see—the red coating my palms.

I took a deep breath and forced my trembling fingers to carry and buckle the saddle into place. It took longer than I would’ve liked, but once the bridle was in position, I leaned in close, letting Aion’s warmth soothe my remaining anxiety.

“I know I pushed you hard the other night,” I said, patting his muzzle, “but I need to ask that of you again.”

“He seems like he enjoys the speed.”

I straightened and whipped my head behind me. Nik was there—again—leaning against the doorway. The morning light haloed the edges of his body. Now that his hair was pulled back, I could clearly see his almond eyes sitting atop high cheekbones. Even the timeworn tunic enveloping the brawn of his torso and arms kept my gaze entranced. I picked my jaw up and stared at the ground, a wave of heat burning my cheeks.

His boots came into my view as he stepped closer, and my eyes drifted upward until they met his. The smell of saffron and leather radiated from him, a scent that’d been thoroughly infused in his bedding.

“Leaving?” The hint of disappointment in his timbre made my skin tingle with discomfort. No, not discomfort. Something…else I couldn’t identify.

I nodded, forgetting my words, finding them again in the soft creases of his eyes. “Just for a little while.”

He uttered a hmm without further context and tilted his head. Loose tendrils of jet-black hair framed his face.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just—” He sucked in air through his teeth. “I had a feeling Maqui’s ugly mug would eventually send you running—”

I gave a slight headshake, frowning. “His…mug?”

“His face.”

“Oh!” My chest tightened. “No, I’m not ru— I mean—” My mouth snapped shut at the sight of the grin spreading across his face. “Oh. You’re teasing?”

“Only somewhat.” His deep brown eyes glinted with mischief. “He’s an acquired taste.”

Acquired was likely an understatement. I blew out a slow breath as I collected my thoughts. “I appreciate your hospitality.” With a nod toward Aion, I added, “Also, for tending to him. I assume it was you?”

Out of the two men, he was the one with enough apparent decency to do such an act of goodwill. Maqui seemed just as likely to chop his hands off to avoid lifting a finger to help.

He chuckled, and for a moment, I worried I’d spoken my comment aloud.

“It was a team effort—Maqui and I. Your horse must’ve thrown a couple shoes that night, so Maqui replaced them.”

“Oh.” Shame iced my spine. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to judge Maqui. Still, caring for a horse’s hooves and showing reluctance in saving a person’s life were two separate matters. I glanced toward the house. “Will you take care of her? While I’m gone?”

With no hesitation, he said, “Of course. Anything you’d like me to tell her if she wakes before you return?”

The first thought that crossed my mind was to express an apology for leaving her in the care of strangers. But as I held the gaze of the almond eyes in front of me, they didn’t seem so unfamiliar. So instead, I said, “Just let her know I’ll return soon.” I bowed my head. “I appreciate it.”

“I thought you might also appreciate this.” He held out a small satchel toward me. “For the road. You didn’t eat much last night.”

It was no surprise he’d noticed. Meanwhile, for me, the last couple of days had been blurred and soupy in my mind.

My fingertips brushed against his as I accepted it. Lifting the leather flap revealed a full canteen, half a loaf of bread, and a bundle of dried meats inside. My mouth watered, and all of the compounded tension in my body melted away.

“Drovska.”

He leaned toward me with eyebrows squished together. “Dro-what?”

“Drove-scuh,” I said, slower. “It means thank you.”

His lips twitched into a relaxed smile. “How do you say you’re welcome?”

“Perakiló. Ped-duh-kee-loh. Stress the last syll—”

“Perakiló.”

My eyes widened, and his posture stooped.

“Sorry, did I say it wrong?”

He could’ve read the largest tome of Vasilyan history to me, and it would’ve been melodic to my ears. Hearing my words on his tongue gave me a new appreciation for the beauty of the Rul’Saeni language. “It was perfect.”

The air between us turned solid as it filled my chest, weighing down my thoughts, my body, my soul. I tried to ignore the lump lodging in my throat. A frigid surge passed through my core as I pushed away the notion of entertaining such an idea—such a preposterous idea.

After slinging the gifted satchel across my body, I maneuvered around him to lead my horse from the stable. Nik’s familiar presence beckoned as he followed us outside. With one foot in the stirrup, I boosted myself upward and settled into the saddle. Aion’s restless hooves stamped eagerly against the ground. Perhaps Nik was right.

“Can I know your name before you go?” He stroked the side of Aion’s neck, but never took his eyes off mine.

Gods… How self-absorbed of me. Even after he’d diligently seen to it that I had somewhere to lay my head and food in my belly, I’d never told him my name.

“Ayven.”

He smiled, and some part of me wanted to hear my name on his lips next. But instead, he said, “I’m Nikolaos—or Nik, if you’d like.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. I would like. Everything in my body screamed that I would like—everything except for my brain.

Duty before self.

That was one commandment the Daluyan needed to abide by, and those three simple words left no room for interpretation. So no matter how much my body argued, I shouldn’t like. I can’t like. I won’t like.

Internally, I cringed at the lie I told myself.