Page 24

24

HARMONY

T he weight of the day settles in my bones as I stack the last of the wooden chairs. My fingers trace the smooth edge, worn from years of use, patrons sliding in and out during meals.

Through the window, I glimpse Marda wiping down counters, her movements unhurried and methodical. These evenings bring a quiet peace—Brooke off with Joss learning to shape clay creatures, the evening breeze carrying the scent of river water and baked goods from Tam's place down the lane.

I heft another chair, balancing it atop two others.

"What a quaint little life you've built yourself."

The voice slices through the twilight like a blade. My hands freeze mid-lift, the hair on my arms rising in primal warning. I don't need to turn to know who stands behind me. The cultured vowels, the knife-edge politeness—I'd recognize it anywhere.

When I do turn, a xaphan stands at the edge of the restaurant's patio, looking absurdly out of place against Saufort's rustic backdrop. His dark wings fold neatly against his back, not a feather out of alignment. His olive skin catches the last of the day's light as he studies me with eyes that reveal nothing.

I recognize him immediately as the manager I always thought treated Adellum wrong. He said Sior kept him on track. I think his manager used him like a fucking work zarryn.

"You're trespassing," I say, proud of how steady my voice remains while my heart pounds against my ribs. "We're closed."

Sior's thin lips curve upward. "And yet, here I stand." He brushes some invisible speck from his immaculate sleeve. "Remarkable how easy it was to find this place. One could almost call it... vulnerable."

My stomach knots. "What do you want?"

He steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. His ink-stained fingers tap against his thigh—the only outward sign of impatience in his otherwise perfect composure.

"What I've always wanted. A return to order. Adellum has responsibilities in New Solas. Contracts. Obligations." He speaks as if explaining simple arithmetic to a child. "Instead, he's playing house in this—" his gaze sweeps dismissively over the village square "—charming backwater."

"That's between you and him."

"Is it?" Sior tilts his head, studying me like a collector might examine a curious but ultimately worthless trinket. "I wonder what these simple folk would think if they knew what he truly is. What he's capable of when provoked. They seem to have accepted him so readily." His words drip with false concern. "It would be a shame to see their hospitality turn to fear."

I set the chair down heavily. "Say what you came to say."

"Very well." Sior steps close enough that I catch the scent of expensive cologne and parchment. "You are a distraction, girl. A temporary infatuation. Did you honestly believe a creature like Adellum would be content with..." he gestures at me, at the restaurant, at the entire village, "this? Forever?"

A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the evening air.

"He has a legacy to build. Art that will outlive empires." Sior's voice softens to something almost paternal. "And what do you offer? A bed above a kitchen and a half-blood child who will never truly belong anywhere."

My hands curl into fists. "Don't you dare speak about my daughter."

"Ah yes, the girl." His expression shifts to something calculating. "Tell me, does she show signs yet? Magic can manifest so... unpredictably in mixed bloodlines. Sometimes violently. I've seen halflings whose powers turned inward, consuming them from within. Others whose abilities lashed out beyond control."

"Stop it," I whisper, images of Brooke's little sparks dancing in my mind.

"Such a fragile world you've built," Sior continues, looking around at the cobblestone square. "So easily shattered. All these kind villagers. That sweet potter boy who watches your daughter like a brother. The old woman with the garden. The smith and his wife." He ticks them off casually, and my blood freezes knowing he's counted them all. "What might happen to them if Adellum's attention remains divided? If he grows... frustrated?"

I step forward, surprising myself with my own boldness. "Is that a threat?"

Sior's smile widens, but his eyes remain cold and flat. "Simply an observation. You have much at stake now, don't you? Far more than just your own heart." He adjusts his sleeve with precision. "Consider what's best for everyone involved. Including your daughter. A child needs stability, not a father consumed by...distraction."

I turn away from him, trying to walk back inside where Marda's presence might provide some safety, some witness. "I have nothing more to say to you."

"Oh, but I'm not finished."

Sior moves with unsettling grace, cutting off my path with a few swift steps. I change direction, only to find him blocking me again, herding me backward until my shoulders bump against the rough stone wall of the restaurant's exterior. The unyielding surface presses cold against my back as he stands before me, close but careful not to touch, his dark wings spreading slightly to create a barrier on either side of me.

I try to sidestep him. "Move."

"You have always been the problem." Sior's composure cracks, revealing something raw beneath his polished exterior. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching along its sharp line. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Adellum was on the verge of greatness—true, lasting greatness. His art was transcendent. And then you—" he makes a dismissive gesture, his hand slicing the air between us "—a kitchen servant with dirt under her nails."

"I never asked him for anything," I say, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my voice.

Sior laughs, a harsh sound with no humor. "You asked for everything simply by existing! You have no concept of what was at stake. The connections I built for him. The patrons. The commissions that would have secured his legacy for centuries."

His wings shudder with rage, feathers rustling like dry leaves. "He wouldn't even consider binding with Lilleth—a match that would have elevated his standing, opened doors that remain forever closed to him now. Because of you. He lashed out over a simple meeting with her all because of you."

The name hits me like a blow. Lilleth. She must have been the woman I saw him with that day, golden-winged and perfect.

But what does he mean Adellum wouldn't consider binding with her? Was it just…sex? Is that worse or better?

"He wouldn't paint," Sior continues, leaning closer, his eyes burning into mine. "When you disappeared, he became obsessed with finding you. Do you know what it's like watching a brilliant mind destroy itself? Watching him tear apart every lead, threaten anyone who might know where you'd gone? He was..." Sior's voice catches, something almost like pain crossing his features, "...unrecognizable. Wasted. All because you ran away like a coward."

"He didn't want me." I shake my head, unable to process this. "He had her?—"

"He rejected her!" Sior's wings flare. "I tried to use her to get him away from you and he fucking lost it."

Realization pours over me like ice water. The memory I've nursed for years—Adellum kissing another woman, planning his future with her while I warmed his bed in secret—begins to warp and fray around the edges.

"You arranged it," I whisper, the truth cutting through years of carefully constructed hatred. "You tried to set him up with someone."

Sior doesn't deny it. Instead, his thin lips curve in grim satisfaction. "I merely accelerated the inevitable. What luck for me that you saw it. Showed you your place in the natural order. Adellum needed to focus on what mattered."

My chest tightens as the full weight of it crashes down. The betrayal I've carried, the bitterness I've nurtured like a poisonous flower—it was built on a lie. Not Adellum's lie, but my own willingness to believe the worst.

"He never wanted her," I say, the words feeling strange in my mouth after years of convincing myself otherwise.

"He pushed her away the moment she touched him." Sior's admission feels like a physical blow. "I couldn't even get him to go to so much as a dinner with another suitor after."

My hands press flat against the rough stone behind me, needing its solidity as my world tilts sideways. All these years wasted on anger and hurt. All the nights I'd lain awake cursing his name, when he had been searching for me, when he had been faithful in all the ways that mattered.

"You ruined everything," Sior snarls, mask finally slipping completely. "And now I find him here, in this nothing village, acting like a common man, besotted with you and a halfling child. Years of work undone because you couldn't accept your proper place."

But I'm not listening. Adellum never hurt me, never wronged me.

He always loved me. Was always true to his word and I ran at the first inkling that he might not be.

What have I done?