Page 30

We make it to Delereauh just as the caliginous sky spreads across the horizon. The journey thus far is uneventful, even when we stopped to eat a few hours earlier.

Siorai-willing, it remains that way.

The large city is bustling with travelers, merchants, and every manner of obscenity that you might expect in a place of this size.

The lights flicker across the streets as we find our way to the nearest inn.

However, it isn’t the surroundings that capture my eye, but the woman with strawberry-blonde hair in front of me as she turns her head side to side, looking at all the shops and establishments in wonder.

I watch the lights as they cascade along her waves, adding a soft glow. It makes her look angelic… almost.

Once we reach the inn, I dismount Danté.

I shake out my legs for a moment before turning to Maeva, who is too transfixed on the surroundings to notice when I gently lower her to the ground.

She doesn’t even notice when I call Danté back into my signet—the space now empty from where he stood.

She continues staring at all the passersby, until her eyes land on a particular one and something in her expression changes.

I follow her gaze, which lands on a floral shop.

Compared to The Violet Lily, this one is dark and foreboding with onyx and ruby-red flowers that line the borders of the establishment.

Where Maeva’s shop is silhouetted in brighter colors, this one only highlights the dark.

Truthfully, I haven’t seen flowers as radiant as the blooms adorning The Violet Lily in quite some time.

Even though they were wilting upon our arrival, they still caught my eye; I was enamored by them.

Which is how I find myself glancing between the woman that lost everything and the shop, pondering if I should offer to escort her over.

“First time seeing Delereauh?” Riordan asks, interrupting my thoughts.

Probably for the best.

“To my knowledge, yes,” she replies. “The Cales never left Aurelius. We were too busy within our small village to truly wonder what else surrounds us.”

Yet again, her statements pierce something in my chest. Perhaps it’s only pity I feel for her situation. I feel responsible for her shortcomings and her unhappiness—as well as her village. Because of the king, they couldn’t travel safely.

A part of me wishes I could change the way things are done, but Tiernan no longer listens to me or seeks my counsel.

He only cares for power, and he is perfectly fine seeing citizens of Zulgalros and Malvoria crumble into nothing.

We’re merely his enforcers, and seeing the pain that we’ve caused reflecting in her eyes makes the weight of our sins worse.

Perhaps, in a way, we are all prisoners to Tiernan.

“So, your only memories are truly from Aurelius?” I ask.

She nods. “A part of me hates that I can’t remember, but the other part is glad for it,” she replies.

“Why is that?” Riordan inquires .

“It’s easier not to miss a life that you don’t yearn to return to,” she says sadly.

“I see,” he murmurs.

There is a brief silence, then Riordan claps so loudly Maeva jumps.

“Well, as delightful as this is, I suggest we migrate indoors for ale and food,” he exclaims.

“I second that,” Laisren interjects as he and Virgil join us. “It might be best if we change as well. We don’t need to draw too much attention.”

Maeva snorts.

All four of us swivel our heads in her direction.

“It’s a little too late for unwanted attention,” she says, her eyes roaming over our armor. “It’s impossible not to notice four behemoth Galrosan men traveling through any town, let alone the Cadre. I’ve already noticed at least half a dozen Malvorians gazing in your direction.”

“Which is all the more reason to change and not draw any further attention,” I say stiffly, unhappy that I didn’t notice their glances myself.

“It’s for your safety more than for ours, Miss Cale,” Laisren agrees. “Many have heard what happened in Aurelius. Secondly, the Cadre traveling with a young woman from said village might raise suspicions. Our duty is to keep you safe by not drawing further attention to you.”

“He is right,” Virgil cuts in. “No one should be able to recognize us in casual attire.”

His comment makes her laugh, and I consider cutting out his tongue for a split second.

However, when she continues to laugh, we pass wary glances amongst our group.

“If she is half mad, Tiernan will be pleased,” Riordan loudly whispers.

This comment earns him a shove from Virgil, which he just laughs off.

“Does something amuse you, Rosey?” I ask.

“The Cadre… in,” she snorts, “in casual wear. I-I just cannot imagine it because you are all… well, you .” She widens her stance and looks serious—I’m assuming in an attempt to mimic us .

“Why would that be amusing?” Laisren asks.

“I just cannot imagine it,” she replies, fidgeting slightly. “The harbingers of death… in trousers and tunics.”

“Did you think we always dressed this way?” Riordan smirks.

Reminder: Never leave them alone together.

“Well,” she says, pondering. “Yes. I did… until now.”

“We’re as normal as any other being in Celestae, Miss Cale,” Laisren says. “Even if our job titles are quite?—”

“—evil?” she interjects.

“Complicated,” he finishes.

“Regardless, our priority is your wellbeing, and to bring you to King Tiernan,” I reply. “The longer we stand out here, debating how humorous you find the idea of tunics and trousers, is another moment that someone might figure out who you are. So, I suggest we get inside.”

The lighthearted behavior from moments before dissipates. The light drains from her eyes, and I want to fix it, even though I’m the cause.

I can’t, because it is not my place.

I am the general first and foremost, above all else.

“Lead on, High General,” she replies.

We march into the inn, single-file until we reach the inn-keeper’s desk, where the male clerk is reading material strewn out before him.

“We request a meal and three rooms,” I say.

“Of course, sir,” the clerk replies. His voice is quite odd and off-putting.

He lifts his head and immediately blanches at the sight of us.

As he does a double-take, his gaze doesn’t stay on my cadre.

Instead, they land on Maeva, who’s standing between Laisren and Riordan.

My body tenses, waiting to see what the man will do.

“Maeva?” he asks.

Her head snaps up upon hearing her name.

Her eyes lock with the dark-haired man that can’t pull his gaze from her.

It’s like they’re lost in a moment of their own.

He’s the definition of what some women might refer to as “handsome”…

for a commoner . Yet, something inside me wishes to rearrange his features if he continues ogling her that way .

Maeva sniffles, tears falling down her cheeks. Her voice is so meek when she finally greets the man.

“Hello, Gawain.”