Celeste

  By the time I finished talking, the tavern was still alive with noise, but it all felt distant, like it belonged to another world. The air was thick with smoke and spilled ale. Lioren hadn’t said much, just listened, the way only someone who’s seen their share of ruin can.

  I told him about Faylen. About the cells, the chains, and the cracks in the stone. About how I escaped, and she didn’t.

  I talked about Art. How he found me in the woods and pulled me out of the hands of my captors. How he promised to help me reach Rodin, somewhere near where Faylen was being kept. How he’d saved me more than once, from bounty hunters, and now from conscription. I told Lioren how I ran after him, chasing every rumor and patrol trail until the truth went cold. I owed him that much, at least.

  At some point, without really planning to, I told him my real name.

  Not Anna.

  Not the lie I’d wrapped around myself these past weeks.

  Just… me.

  It slipped out quiet, like something that had finally grown tired of being held.

  What I didn’t tell him was Art’s real name or that he’s an Aberration.

  Some truths aren’t mine to give away.

  When I finished, the words felt smaller than the silence they left behind. Lioren didn’t try to fill it. He just nodded once, slow and understanding.

  “Saints’ teeth,” he said finally, exhaling a low whistle. “You ever think of taking a break? Maybe a nice, quiet life not runnin’ for your neck?”

  I gave him a look.

  “Didn’t think so,” he said with a half-smile. Then, quieter: “Still, chasing someone like that… it says a lot about you. The good kind.”

  “You make it sound noble,” I said. “It wasn’t. I owed him that much. After what he did… after what it cost him.”

  Lioren studied me for a long moment, then gave a small nod.

  “Can’t say I envy the road you’ve walked,” he said. Then, with a half-grin, “But I can say you’re terrible company for a drink. You’ve barely touched that ale.”

  I glanced at my mug. The foam had gone flat. “Didn’t seem right, talking about it while drinking.”

  “Good thing I’m not the sentimental sort.” He lifted his own mug and took a long pull. “Still, seems unfair I’m carryin’ the whole weight of the tavern myself. You’ll have to keep up if you plan to share a fire with me again.”

  I arched a brow. “You think I can’t?”

  He laughed, quiet but genuine. “I think I’ve seen oxen go down with less in their gut.”

  “Then you haven’t met the right competition,” I said, grabbing the mug and taking a long swallow. The ale was warm, bitter, and far too strong. I didn’t flinch.

  That earned me a look of mock surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  “Hope’s not what I need,” I muttered.

  “Then another round’s as good a place as any to start.”

  He waved to the barkeep. Two more mugs hit the table with a heavy thud. For tonight, I wasn’t looking for peace. Just a way to quiet everything down. To forget for a while.

  By the time the night deepened and the tavern thinned, the weight of my story had dulled to something almost bearable, blurred by laughter, smoke, and the sharp burn of ale.

  ***

  Morning came with the taste of ash and regret. My head throbbed, a steady drum behind my eyes. I’d forgotten how heavy silence feels after a night like that. I muttered a curse under my breath and pressed my palms to my temples. A faint warmth flickered beneath my skin, Healing just enough to chase the pounding away. Art had taught me that trick the last time I drank as much.

  I’d thought only he could outdrink me. The night we played, he’d already downed half the tavern before I joined in, and still nearly beat me.

  Turns out I was wrong. Lioren had held his ground, steady as a rock and twice as smug about it.

  I returned the room key to the barkeep and managed a quick breakfast. Lioren was nowhere in sight, and I didn’t know where he’d stayed the night. When the sun cleared the rooftops, I saddled the gelding and set out on the road.

  The air outside was sharp and clean, and for the first time since the night before, my thoughts were my own again.

  The road stretched quiet ahead of me, a thin pale ribbon through the morning fog. The gelding’s hooves sank deep into the damp earth. My breath came out in small clouds. The tavern’s noise felt a lifetime away now, leaving only the cold and the clatter of saddle straps for company.

  Good.

  Silence was easier.

  I pulled my cloak tighter as a light wind swept through the trees. A few birds called from the branches, sharp against the stillness. The world felt scrubbed clean, like the night before had been scraped away with the rest of my mistakes.

  I was half a league out of the village when the distant thud of hooves broke the quiet behind me.

  I didn’t tense at first, travelers passed through these roads often enough. But the rhythm was familiar, an easy, uneven cadence like his horse had inherited his swagger.

  I didn’t bother looking back. I didn’t need to.

  A moment later, Lioren’s horse pulled up beside mine, the beast snorting hard as Lioren settled into an easy lean in the saddle. He looked far too awake for someone who’d challenged the whole tavern under the table and hadn’t used a shred of Healing to face the morning after.

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  He gave me a wounded look so exaggerated it should’ve been carved on a stage mask.

  “Well, look at you,” he drawled. “Slippin’ out at dawn without so much as a goodbye. Breakin’ my poor heart, that’s what it is.”

  I stared straight ahead. “You were busy.”

  “Aye,” he said, “sleepin’”.

  Then, with a dramatic sigh, “Didn’t think you’d flee the town like a thief just to avoid wishin’ me a good morning.”

  I glanced over at him. He rode like he lived, half slouch, half swagger, like the horse moved only because he allowed it.

  “I wasn’t sure where you ended up sleeping – or with whom,” I said. “And I wasn’t about to go room-hunting just to say goodbye. I didn’t feel like stumbling into something I could never unsee.”

  Lioren barked a laugh, bright and shameless. “You afraid of seein’ me naked? Can’t blame you. Most folk need a moment to prepare themselves for such glory.”

  “Please,” I said, dry as frost. “The only real danger was whatever poor woman you were performing for.”

  “Aye, probably,” he said with a grin. “If you’d walked in, love, it’s your pride that would’ve taken the wound. Maybe mine too, dependin’ on the angle.”

  That pulled a small laugh out of me before I could stop it. His grin widened like he’d been waiting for it.

  “Knew I’d drag a smile out of you before noon.”

  His grin lingered a moment longer before he turned his gaze back to the road, letting the reins loose in his hand. The morning light filtered through the trees in thin ribbons, brushing over the edges of his hair.

  I shook my head, still fighting a smile. “What are you even doing out here? Thought you and Brenn were too busy sampling what the village had to offer.”

  “Oh, Brenn’s fine,” he said lightly. “Probably awake by now, still samplin’ that woman he was with last night. Loud one, she was. Or maybe that was him. Hard to tell.”

  He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Either way, if he’s missin me, he’s hidin’ it well.”

  I huffed, amused. “So you just left him?”

  “He left me first,” Lioren said, shrugging. “Soon as he spotted her across the room. Man has priorities.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re out here.”

  He gave me a sideways look, smile curling. “Maybe I wanted to make sure you weren’t ridin’ off to your doom. Or wanderin’ in circles. Or brooding yourself into a tree.”

  I rolled my eyes, though the warmth in his voice settled something in my chest. “Right. And here I was thinking you’re only upset because I didn’t say goodbye.”

  He gasped, dramatic as ever. “You wound me, love.”

  “You didn’t say goodbye either,” I countered. “Or good morning. Or even good night.”

  He lifted a brow. “I didn’t know where you were sleepin’. Or who you might’ve been sleepin’ with. Didn’t fancy wanderin’ around and seeing somethin’ I couldn’t unsee.”

  I barked a laugh. “Please. The only thing you’d have walked in on was me sleeping fully clothed and snoring.”

  “Aye, well… if you had taken some poor bastard to bed to chase off the hurt for a night, I’d have understood. Saints know loss makes fools of all of us.”

  “He wasn’t my husband,” I said quietly. “You know that now.”

  “Aye,” Lioren murmured, “doesn’t change that you lost him.”

  He shot me a sideways look, half a smirk tugging at his mouth again. “And don’t expect me to believe you two weren’t sharin’ a bed after travelin’ together for–” He gestured loosely at the road ahead. “–for weeks and nights stacked on top of each other like firewood.”

  Heat crept up my neck. I looked ahead quickly, pretending to study the curve on the road.

  “Not for lack of trying,” I muttered.

  Lioren’s head whipped toward me so fast his braids nearly slapped his cheek. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I said far too quickly.

  The grin that spread across his face was slow and wicked, like dawn taking its time over the hills.

  “Oh-ho,” he said, leaning in the saddle. “Now that’s a story I’d pay coin to hear.”

  “It’s not a story,” I snapped, then regretted the sharpness in it.

  His expression softened just enough to show he heard the bruise under my words. “Aye,” he said quietly. “Sometimes the ones we want don’t want us back. Doesn’t make a fool of you.”

  I swallowed, eyes fixed on the road.

  “Still,” he added with a nudge of his elbow, smirk sliding back in place, “I’m absolutely gonna ask you about that again when you least expect it.”

  Despite myself, a breath of laughter escaped.

  We rode in companionable silence for a stretch, the road narrowing as the trees pressed closer on either side. A soft breeze stirred the branches above us, and the quiet settled between us like an old, familiar blanket.

  After a moment, I cleared my throat. “So… how far were you planning to travel with me?”

  He tilted his head, considering me with exaggerated suspicion. “That depends. Where exactly are you headed, again?”

  I hesitated, tracing the reins between my fingers. “There’s an output somewhere near Rodin. That’s where I was being kept and that’s where they’re keeping Faylen.”

  “Ah,” Lioren said, nodding as though he’d expected something far simpler. “Right. That. Just a light stroll then.”

  He clicked his tongue and tightened his reins. “Well then. I suppose that’s where I’m headed.”

  I blinked at him. “Lioren, that’s nearly a week of riding,” I said. “And you do realize what I’m riding into? A Black Veil compound full of slavers and Casters. I’ll be fighting my way through all of it to get her out. What about the Brotherhood? Aren’t you supposed to be with them?”

  The thought of dragging someone else into Rodin twisted uneasily in my stomach.

  He only shrugged. “Black Veil’s bark is worse than their bite. Granted, their bite’ll kill you, but still.” He waved a hand, as if the thought of obligation personally offended him. “Aye, well… I told you already. Brotherhood doesn’t tether themselves together. We’re not a caravan. We’re more like… a handful of cats someone tried to train and then gave up on.”

  He shot me a sideways grin.

  “I just ain’t gettin’ paid when I wander off, if you recall.”

  “So you’re working for free now?” I asked.

  “Oh, saints no,” he said, looking deeply insulted at the idea. “Means you’re payin’ me.”

  I stared at him. “I’m what?”

  “Not now,” he said, lifting a hand magnanimously. “End of the journey’s fine. I’m patient.”

  He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll tally it up. Travel fee, hazard fee, emotional support fee. Quite a sum, really.”

  “Emotional support?” I sputtered.

  “Aye,” he said, completely serious. “I’m practically holdin’ your heart together with spit and charm at this point.”

  I rolled my eyes hard enough I nearly saw the back of my skull, but the laugh that slipped out ruined the effect.

  Lioren looked pleased with himself.

  “See? Billin’ starts there.”

  I let out a breath between a scoff and a laugh. “Well, you’re not getting paid by me. I don’t have two coins to rub together.”

  “That so?” he said, straightening in the saddle like he’d just remembered something important. “Then it’s a good thing we’re marchin’ straight toward opportunity.”

  I blinked. “Opportunity?”

  “Aye,” he said, gesturing grandly down the road. “We’re on an adventure to rescue your friend from a pack of slave traders. And if there’s one thing I know for certain: slave traders are sittin’ on coin they shouldn’t have.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re suggesting we rob them.”

  He shrugged. “Suggestin’? Love, I’m countin’ on it.”

  I was halfway to a retort–

  –but something in the air silenced me first.

  Hoofbeats.

  Faint at first, a muted thud-thud-thud beneath the morning wind. Then stronger.

  I straightened in the saddle. The gelding tossed his head, ears pricking toward the sound.

  The road ahead dipped into a gentle bend, the tree line parting only enough to show a blur of movement before the riders burst into view. Five of them, maybe six. It was hard to count at their speed. They thundered past us in a spray of dust and cold air, not sparing more than a passing glance.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  Lioren didn’t speak, but the way he shifted set every nerve in me on edge. He tracked them as they barreled down the road, jaw clenched, one hand tightening on the reins until the leather creaked.

  A dozen lengths ahead, the riders slowed.

  The rhythm of their hooves fell into an eerie sync, like a heartbeat deciding when to stop.

  One by one, they tugged their horses into a wide arc.

  Turned. Then faced us.

  The man in front leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Something mean sharpened the edges of his expression as he raised a hand – whether in greeting or warning, I couldn’t tell.

  A cold prickle crawled down my spine.

  “Lioren?” I breathed.

  He didn’t look at me.

  Didn’t blink.

  “Ah,” he muttered, voice suddenly low. “That’s not good.”

  The morning wind died around us.