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“I’m sorry?” I inquire as I turn to face him.

He didn’t call me Rosey.

He called me Maeva.

Just Maeva.

I think that’s the first time he’s actually used my name, and he said it with such tenderness. He slowly closes the distance between us, looking down at me.

“I’m not evil, despite what you believe. You carry so many of your own burdens, so I’ll share one of my own with you,” he says. “Not all of us born in the darkness wish to succumb to it. I-I just wanted you to know that.”

Something about his declaration causes his eyes to sparkle brighter in the twilight. I can’t help but wonder if the man that hides beneath the helmet matches the allure of his eyes. He’s the most fickle Galrosan man I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting, yet I want to know him.

Perhaps the softer parts of the Cales’ personalities have rubbed off on me over the years.

I look down at my feet, so I can stop thinking of his shining irises.

His words have bound me to this spot—this moment with him. And for some reason, I feel pity for him and don’t wish to leave him to linger in this thought alone.

Could Saoirse be right about the brash Galrosan within the armor?

Is it truly possible that even Tiernan’s Cadre aren’t given a choice in the atrocities they commit?

But… What if he’s lying and trying to bait me?

Could it be some trick?

Yet, nothing in his confession feels cruel or twisted.

There’s only one way to know for sure, Saoirse says.

How? I ask, intrigued.

Tell him what really happened to the captain, she answers.

I sigh.

My dear, it’s one small truth, Saoirse chides. One that will show you if he’s worthy of the burdens you carry. I won’t force you, but in the days ahead, you’ll need allies, and he needs one of his own.

“Rosey?” he asks.

The shimmer of hope in his eyes feels like the first rays of how I imagine sunlight to feel—warm and inviting.

I take a deep breath. “I appreciate your candor, but I have another burden of my own to share with you, High General,” I say. “You asked me what happened to the captain, and I refused to tell you before.”

“Yes,” Emyr answers.

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Well, the captain in Aurelius was killed by an Eitcham that came to defend me. I know that sounds illogical, but the creature pledged its loyalty to me that day. I’m not sure what that means, but I fear what the king might do if he were to find out how the captain truly died.

I’m already in enough danger being the one to awaken the Na Fíréin, but to be one that creatures pledge themselves to feels like?—”

“Treason,” Emyr finishes.

I nod. “Tiernan can’t know,” I whisper.

Emyr scans my face for any hints of deception. He will find none. I don’t flinch or cower in his presence even though I’ve found vulnerability to be a chore with anyone except the Cales and Virgil. I hope Saoirse is right that he can be trusted.

“Well, High General?” I ask. “Can I trust you?”

“Who else knows of this?” he murmurs.

“Virgil, Gawain, and now you, High General,” I reply.

He nods. “Tiernan won’t hear an inkling of this from me. I’m certain Virgil will promise you the same. I hope to prove myself worthy of the rest of your burdens, but I do have one request to ask of you,” he says.

“Okay?” I say.

“My cadre calls me by my name when we aren’t on missions or at the battlefront. Now that we’re trading truths, I hope to consider you an ally. So, when we’re not in court, you may call me Emyr.”

Is… is this a test of trust on his part?

“Emyr,” I say, testing his name on my tongue. I’m surprised by how sweetly it rolls off. I like the way his name sounds, which makes me blush.

It’s just a name, woman, I scold myself.

“Maeva,” Emyr says in a husky tone.

“I have one more request,” I say.

“Name it,” he replies.

“Don’t stop calling me Rosey. You can still call me Maeva if you so desire, but I’ve grown quite fond of Rosey,” I jest.

He chuckles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Very well, Rosey,” he replies.

He motions toward the others, and this time I do walk away from him.

This encounter feels different from the first in Aurelius .

There isn’t vitriol and anger within our words or actions; it’s most likely just the feeling of relief to have an ally. Perhaps it could be something deeper—something more.

Emyr sees a glimpse of the storms that surround me, and he isn’t cowering from it. He’s embracing it and giving me his word to protect it.

An ally in the chaos…

A friend.

That alone makes me smile.