Page 11 of Unravelled

All three had agreed. Cleric Perrin, Torvyen and Tharion had insisted that Mira ride in the convoy of carriages, a decision she accepted with visible reluctance.

She’d argued, of course, but none of them had budged.

Riding in a carriage felt stifling compared to the freedom of a horse, where the wind and open air would have been her companions.

But with Tharion stationed on one side of the carriage and Torvyn on the other, they’d made their point clear.

There would be no sneaking off to commandeer a spare steed.

Through the small carriage window, she caught sight of Tharion riding beside her.

He sat tall in the saddle, his dark cloak shifting slightly in the breeze, revealing black leather armor marred with faint scratches, silent testaments to the battles he’d fought out here.

His sword rested against his hip, the hilt worn from years of use.

Once, she might have felt a spark of heat seeing him like this, a steadfast warrior, commanding and unshakable.

But now, she felt only the faint ache of something unspoken, something muted and distant.

Whatever connection they shared was buried deep in their memories.

Her gaze lingered on him as he turned his head, scanning the horizon with sharp eyes that always seemed to search elsewhere.

Once, his unwavering devotion to duty had impressed her.

Now, it felt like a wall shutting her out.

The journey to Anyerit was short, just a few hours, but to Mira, it felt endless.

She sat stiffly, her chin resting on her hand as she gazed out at the changing landscape.

The lush gardens and towering trees near the palace gave way to the township surrounding the palace, then to orderly farmland.

The neat rows of crops stretching across rolling hills.

Sunlight bathed the fields, and for a fleeting moment, Mira allowed herself to believe that the rumors about Anyerit might have been exaggerated.

But as the convoy pressed on, the scenery changed.

The crops grew sparse, their leaves curling and browning.

Vibrant green turned to dull yellow, and yellow gave way to brittle brown.

Mira leaned closer to the window, her brow furrowing as she watched the life drain from the land.

There were no signs of fire or war, no scorched earth or smoldering ruins.

These fields should have been thriving, feeding the people who worked them, but they had simply withered, as if the land itself had been drained of vitality .

The convoy slowed near a small rest point, the drivers pausing to water the horses.

Mira welcomed the stop, stepping down from the carriage as the heavy fabric of her simple gray dress swayed around her legs.

The design was practical for travel, with a fitted bodice and loose sleeves that gathered at her elbows.

Tharion dismounted his horse with practiced ease, his boots crunching on the gravel as he approached her.

His eyes scanned the horizon, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"What happened here?" Mira asked, her voice low as her gaze drifted to the barren fields.

"They poisoned the fields," Tharion said grimly. "It’s a classic Kharadorian tactic from a few hundred years ago. Kill the land, starve the people, weaken the kingdom."

Mira frowned, stepping away from him as her curiosity pulled her toward the field’s edge. She knelt down, brushing her fingers over the dry, cracked soil. Her brow furrowed as she surveyed it.

"No," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "This isn’t poison. It’s salt."

Tharion stepped closer, his tone skeptical. "Salt?"

“It’s like the salt we use in the rituals,” she murmured, rising to her feet and brushing the dry soil from her palms. She held a small pinch of the coarse white substance out toward Tharion, her hand steady.

He took some without hesitation, his glove brushed lightly against her fingers as he did.

“Why would they salt the fields instead of poisoning them?” she asked, turning the granules over carefully in her palm.

“Poison would be faster. Far more effective.” Tharion glanced down at the earth.

From behind her, “Salt can eventually be removed.”

Mira turned as she caught sight of Ren. He wore a dark travelling cape. The high collar framed his sharp jawline, and beneath it, his black tunic clung to the lean muscle of his chest. He always carried his strength so effortlessly.

Her eyes caught Ren’s, and he tilted his head. A glint in his eyes. He’d caught her admiring him. Mira snapped her eyes to the salted filled ground. Mercifully, he said nothing, but she could feel his satisfaction rolling off him.

He continued, his voice calm yet sharp as he adjusted the leather gloves on his hands. "If they wanted to use the land for themselves one day, salting it would make more sense. It ruins it for now, but not forever."

Mira looked at the soil, the weight of Ren's words settling heavily on her chest. The Kharadorians weren’t just mindlessly destroying, they were planning, thinking for the future.

This wasn’t just an attack. It was a calculated move to strip the land of its people and their hope while keeping it primed for their own future use.

Tharion’s jaw tightened, his voice low and hard.

"They’ve condemned these fields to years of suffering. "

A whistle rang out, cutting through the birds. The drivers signaled it was time to move on. Mira hesitated, her gaze lingering on the desolate fields for a moment longer, before turning away. She left Tharion and Ren where they stood and climbed back into the carriage.

A few moments later, the door creaked open. Ren stepped inside, Mira looked up, her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Ren’s lips curled into a smile as he shut the door behind him.

"Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for the next leg," he said lightly, his tone teasing as he removed his cloak and gloves, settling into the seat across from her.

Mira shifted in her seat, trying not to stare as Ren sprawled out comfortably across from her.

The carriage jolted slightly as it began moving again, the rhythmic sound of hooves and wheels filling the silence between them. She forced her gaze out the window, determined to keep the silence, but she should have known better than to expect quiet from him.

"You know," Ren began, his voice laced with playful mischief, "this feels familiar, doesn’t it? You and I, in close quarters." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. Mira spun her head, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t speak. Ren’s grin widened, and his voice dropped lower, making the already-small space between them feel impossibly intimate.

"The way you looked at me. The way we... "

"We did nothing," Mira’s cheeks warmed as heat crept up her neck. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "It was nothing."

Ren let out a soft, knowing laugh, shaking his head as if he found her reaction endlessly amusing. "Nothing?" he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief. "Funny, that's not what I remember. In fact, it seemed like we were…”

"I wasn’t doing anything," Mira snapped. Her body stiffened as she shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of how close he was. How his presence seemed to fill the entire carriage.

Ren chuckled, leaning back with that infuriating ease of his, the glint in his eyes unmistakable. "You can keep pretending all you want, Mira... but I know we both felt it." His gaze lingered on her lips.

"What are you doing here, Ren?" Mira’s voice, sharp and trembling with fury.

"Do you think I’d miss the chance to ride alongside enemy territory with you?

" he drawled. Mira shot him a look sharp enough to cut. Heat prickled at the back of her neck anyway. Ren’s grin only widened, "Tharion needed someone who knows the streets of Anyerit and let’s be honest, I’m prettier than the rest of the underguard. "

Mira snapped back at him, "Do you have no respect, for me, for Tharion, for the bond we share?" Ren didn’t answer. He sat across from her, his elbows on his knees. She shook her head, the heat behind her words softening just enough to let the hurt bleed through.

"We’re friends... but" She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on his. Her voice rose again, more bitter now. "he is more than your friend, he’s practically your brother."

???

The slam of the doors startled Mira so violently she nearly dropped the brush from her hands.

She’d just stepped out from the bathing chamber, steam still clinging to her skin, the warmth of the water a fading comfort.

The silk robe at her waist hung loosely, damp tendrils of hair curling against her collarbone.

She saw the figure standing in the doorway, even though candlelight flickered across the walls.

Ren. His chest was heaving, eyes wild, searching the space as though expecting something, someone.

Raw and unguarded, his presence was a stark contrast to his usual effortless charm.

His gaze landed on her, and for the briefest second, something passed over his face, something so open and full it made her breath catch.

“Mira,” he said, the word ragged, broken. She froze, confusion knitting across her brow. Why was he looking at her like that? Like he was seeing a ghost. As if she were lost. Before he could speak, she tilted her head and called lightly over her shoulder.

“Tharion?” Ren flinched. It was barely a twitch, but Mira saw it. His expression cracked. Something inside him crumpled. Her brows drew together. She took a tentative step forward. “Ren…?”