Morning comes, and the final leg of the journey unfolds in gentle calm.

  Vegetation thickens as we near the coast, trees crowding closer together—but the land around the main road remains carefully maintained, packed earth layered with gravel.. We pass other caravans heading inland, quiet greetings exchanged as we go.

  Before long, uneven ground gives way to neatly laid stone.

  A patrol rider falls in beside us without breaking pace, mounted atop a massive coilrunner. The six-legged beast hugs the ground as it moves, its gait smooth and unsettlingly quick. The rider speaks with Ulric and the caravan leader as they ride—purpose, cargo, contract, loss. The body we carry. Notes are taken. Nods exchanged.

  Then the rider urges his mount forward. The coilrunner’s claws click sharply against stone as it glides ahead, disappearing down the road.

  Our formation loosens after that, drifting closer to the center now that Yunhai is within reach.

  “Just a little longer,” Ulric says, relief clear in his voice. “We’ll reach the city just after sundown. Lanterns for the last stretch—the lights’ll guide us in.”

  “I just want a bath,” Cinna mutters. “A very long one.”

  Veil chuckles, stepping closer to her. “What d’you say we all take one together? Yunhai’s got them proper big bathhouses—none o’ those pokey little tubs back in Vellaris.”

  I glance sideways without meaning to.

  Cattleya’s smiling, tail moving in that easy, absent way. She doesn’t say anything.

  I look away again.

  “I’ll take whatever I can get,” I say, trying to sound casual.

  Cinna and Veil laugh softly.

  “Ain’t that sweet,” Ulric mutters, watching us. “Shame is, they’ll be closed by the time we arrive. Tomorrow, after delivery.”

  Cinna groans. I can’t help but chuckle.

  But a bath still sounds heavenly.

  The rest of the walk passes easily—light chatter, idle curiosity, speculation about Yunhai—until the sky deepens and stars spill overhead. I barely notice when we pass through a gate at all. There are no walls—no hard boundary. The city seems to grow naturally out of the land, curving along the bay where the eastern settlers first arrived.

  We stop at an inn just inside the outskirts. The caravan pulls in behind it, and Ulric peels off with the leader to talk terms.

  I notice Kiereth lingering nearby, quieter than he’s been all day. I step closer, peering up into his hood with a playful tilt of my head.

  For once, I catch his eyes—green, tired, distant. He speaks like an elder, though he can’t be much past forty.

  “I take it you and your friends will go your own way from here,” he says gently.

  “And you?” I ask. “Back on the road? Or staying a few days?”

  His gaze lowers, uncertainty flickering briefly across his face.

  “I will offer my services in the city,” he says after a moment. “Earn my next meal. Listen for caravans—until one accepts my presence.”

  He pauses.

  “But my meditation on our earlier concern has yielded nothing. For the goddess, silence so complete is… rare.” His voice drops. “That troubles me.”

  Ulric approaches, and I turn with him.

  “Stay with us at least one night,” Ulric says. “Wouldn’t feel right leaving you on the street while we enjoy proper beds.”

  Kiereth hesitates—then bows his head.

  “I accept your generosity, Captain Ulric.”

  Ulric scoffs. “Come on, then.”

  Inside, the inn couldn’t be more different from Vellaris. No roaring hearth, no clatter of mugs. The space is quiet and warm, built of pale wood and papered walls. Shoes are left at the entrance. Soft lantern light glows low, reflecting off polished floors. It feels… intentional. Calm in a way Vellaris never is.

  Ulric returns from the desk and presses a key ring into my hand.

  “You’re with me, old man,” he says, jerking his head toward Kiereth.

  The group splits down the corridor. Our room is simple—three thin mattresses laid on woven mats, each with a pillow. A single oil lantern sits between them.

  “I was hoping for an actual bed,” I grumble as I set my pack down, peeling off my armor with relief.

  “This is nice and soft, Imo,” Cattleya says, already face-planting onto the middle mattress.

  “It’s… interesting,” Cinna adds, easing herself onto the far one.

  I change into my pajamas, still feeling faintly guilty about not bathing first, then take my book and settle onto the mattress closest to the door.

  It’s only when I open the tome that I notice Cattleya staring at me.

  “…Did you take the middle one because I’m usually there?” I ask.

  She nods shyly, curling in on herself.

  My chest tightens.

  “You know, we finally have our own beds,” I say gently. “Don’t you want to stretch out? Really relax?”

  She glances aside with a soft grumble. Behind her, Cinna giggles.

  I sigh. “...You want to?”

  She nods instantly.

  Resigned, I scoot to the edge. She rolls over happily, latching onto my arm like it’s exactly where she belongs.

  I watch her for a moment, then lift a hand and gently stroke between her ears.

  “We won’t be able to do this back at the tower,” I tease softly. “Still surprised they let you sleep that long on that sofa.”

  “Oh?” Cinna’s voice cuts in, amused. “Veil and Ulric share a room, you know.”

  “I—what?” I blink.

  By the time I look back, Cattleya is already asleep. Completely out.

  I scoff, adjust my pillow closer to her, and settle down.

  “Cinna, can you get the light?”

  More giggles. She hops up and extinguishes the lantern.

  “Good night, you two.”

  “…Night.”

  Sleep takes me easily.

  Yeah.

  This is just how things are now.

  My nose itches. I stir awake.

  I try to lift a hand to scratch it—and can’t move.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I look down.

  Messy white hair. Two ears flopped in absolute peace. A thick, warm tail draped further down.

  I lie there, mind blank, letting the situation register.

  …Cinna isn’t in her bed.

  And apparently, my arm stopped being sufficient sometime during the night.

  I scoff softly, doing nothing but watching her for long, quiet moments. Then I draw a breath and lean in, whispering near her ear.

  “Good morning.”

  The ears twitch instantly. She stirs, blinking through sleep, then finally releases me and sits up like this is all perfectly normal.

  “Mornin’,” she says lazily—to someone behind me.

  A familiar giggle answers.

  “…Morning, Cinna,” I mutter without turning. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough, cove,” Veil replies instead, amusement thick in his voice.

  My cheeks burn. I groan and bury my face in the pillow.

  “…Who else is here?” I ask, defeated.

  “Just us,” Cinna says gently. “I hated to wake you after that sight—but we’ve got a delivery to make. Food comes after.”

  A moment later, a hand closes around my wrist.

  “Come on, Imo,” Cattleya says, already on her feet.

  She pulls me up with effortless strength. I forget, sometimes, how strong she really is—how careful she usually is about it. The thought nearly derails me, heat rushing to my face, and I shake my head hard.

  “Thank you,” I say quickly. “And—maybe tidy up a bit. We’re meeting clients today.”

  “Mm.” She mimics my head tilt, then turns toward her pack.

  In the lobby, everyone’s already waiting.

  “Alright, Chariot,” Ulric says, waving us forward. “Let’s move.”

  We head out into the city.

  Yunhai feels lived-in, but softer than Vellaris—shorter buildings, mostly wood instead of stone, roofs layered and curved. The streets are narrower too, forcing the caravan to crawl along at a frustrating pace.

  I scan the crowds. Mostly Seryth—scaled patches catching sunlight in soft colors, their frames slighter than I’m used to. A sight I rarely see back home.

  “Feels nice being tall for once,” I remark.

  A few chuckles ripple through the group.

  “It has been many years since I last walked Yunhai’s streets,” Kiereth says thoughtfully. “I remember little of how it looked—but the feel of the stone beneath my feet remains.”

  I glance over. As usual, Cattleya’s already watching me, wearing that easy smile.

  “Looking forward to anything in town, Cat?” I ask. “I don’t know much about this place.”

  She hums, scanning the surroundings, eyes bright with curiosity.

  “We’ll hear what the client says first,” Ulric says over his shoulder. “But if all goes well, no harm in staying a day or two. I also need to check in with the caravan we helped—see how their trades went. Might even find another caravan heading back our way.”

  “Aye,” Veil adds. “I’ll need a night out, mind. Few mates o’ mine work round here—been ages since I checked in.”

  “Well,” Cinna says lightly, “a visit to the markets wouldn’t hurt. The patterns here are beautiful.”

  The city slowly opens up as we cross it, until we reach a shoreline estate on the southern edge.

  “Strange,” I murmur. “Walls inside the city, but none around it.”

  Beyond the gates rises a mansion built in layered tiers—wood and stone interwoven, sweeping roofs curling upward at the corners. A central spire rises from its heart like a watchful tower, papered balconies and wooden walkways connecting its wings. It feels less like a fortress and more like a temple shaped into a home.

  The gates open from within, guards bowing as we’re ushered inside.

  The cart and ironback are guided away toward the stables by waiting staff.

  A middle-aged man approaches, robes of deep black embroidered with red and gold thread.

  “Your service is greatly appreciated,” he says, bowing deeply. “You must be Ulric-val, and the Chariot.”

  “I am Teshan, Koryn of the inner court.”

  Ulric straightens and returns the bow. “Captain Ulric. Master Nura sends his regards—and hopes the ceremony proceeds smoothly.”

  “It will,” Teshan replies, pride coloring his tone. “A union meant to strengthen the bond between our people and the fatherland across the sea.”

  He gestures toward the mansion. “Please—remain with us a while. Hospitality is owed.”

  “We’re being compensated fairly,” Ulric says evenly. “No obligation necessary.”

  Teshan smiles. “Nevertheless.”

  We follow him inside.

  The entry hall opens wide and tall, its space uncluttered and deliberate. Polished wooden floors stretch beneath paper-paneled walls painted with subtle landscapes—mountains, water, drifting clouds. Lanterns hang low, casting warm light that softens every edge. The air smells faintly of incense and clean wood.

  “All this,” Veil mutters under his breath, eyes flicking over the floors and walls. “An’ folk still starvin’ elsewhere.”

  Ulric shoots him a look—sharp, warning.

  Veil exhales through his nose, jaw tightening.

  After that, the silence is so complete our footsteps echo.

  “Edgar-val has been our benefactor for several years,” Teshan says as we walk. There is pride in his voice—carefully contained. “We owe much to him. It was through his efforts that our legacy was restored.”

  He inclines his head, just slightly. “As such, all who serve under his employ are to be treated as our most esteemed guests.”

  We enter a vast chamber, its ceiling high and supported by dark wooden beams. At its center stretches an impossibly long table, polished smooth, unoccupied.

  “Would you join us for dawnmeal?” he asks, his gaze moving calmly from face to face.

  We hesitate. I certainly hadn’t expected to be invited to dine inside a mansion—let alone one like this.

  Ulric glances at us, exhaustion still lingering in his expression, then nods once.

  “We would be honored,” he says, stepping forward.

  “And deeply grateful for your hospitality,” Cinna adds, bowing low.

  As we move to take our seats, my eyes drift to Kiereth.

  He looks… hollow. Not tense, not wary—just quietly worn, as though something old is weighing on him. He meets my glance briefly and offers a gentle smile, then lowers his hood again.

  We sit in our familiar order. Kiereth takes the seat beside Cattleya this time, inclining his head to us before settling into stillness.

  Moments later, servants begin to arrive.

  They move with practiced quiet, placing trays before each of us—no shared platters, no crowding. Each setting is its own small arrangement: bowls of steamed rice still faintly fragrant, clear broths dotted with herbs, thin slices of fish glazed and seared just enough to glisten, pickled vegetables in careful balance of color and texture. Small ceramic dishes hold sauces, pastes, and delicacies whose names I don’t know—all arranged with deliberate symmetry.

  Everything is placed gently. No words. No wasted motion.

  Cattleya wastes no time, sampling each dish in turn—broths first, then vegetables, then whatever catches her eye. Her ears flick as she goes, tail swaying with clear approval.

  Beyond her, Kiereth remains still. Thoughtful. He eventually lifts a bowl and drinks, slow and deliberate, as if grounding himself in the warmth.

  I follow suit, starting with the deep-fried vegetables, dipping them into the paired broth.

  “It’s… delicious,” Cinna murmurs beside me, one hand pressed lightly to her cheek in quiet awe—mirroring exactly how I feel.

  “That brings me great joy,” Teshan replies, bowing his head slightly. He remains standing, attentive, watching over us as we eat.

  “We’re grateful for the meal,” Ulric says, wiping a stray drop of sauce from his chin. “But after this, we should take our leave. We’ll pass word to Master Nura—tell him you’ve been a most gracious host.”

  “Ah… that would be—”

  “Teshan?”

  The voice comes from the far end of the hall.

  Teshan turns sharply and bows so low I half-expect him to tip forward.

  “Nodo-Ren,” he says reverently. “Esteemed guests have arrived, bearing gifts from Edgar-val.” He straightens just enough to speak. “Thanks to them, your marriage may now proceed.”

  A paper door slides open.

  A Seryth woman steps into view, delicate as porcelain. Her skin is pale, marked with white and crimson scales that seem to shift in hue as the light touches them. A long, exquisitely made robe trails behind her, draped loosely over her arms, leaving her shoulders bare.

  “I see…” she says softly. “From… him.”

  She approaches, close enough that I can make out the sharp horizontal slits of her pupils beneath dark hair.

  Then—she stops.

  The pressure hits—sudden and suffocating.

  The same weight I felt before—

  With Minnara.

  My throat tightens. I glance away instinctively, heart pounding. Running isn’t an option. Neither is pretending.

  I notice Kiereth staring at her.

  Her gaze drifts to him in turn.

  He feels it too.

  Awe crosses his face—not fear. Not confusion. Reverence—as though he’s stumbled upon something sacred.

  Without another word, she turns and leaves, wooden clogs striking the floor in sharp, echoing beats.

  Teshan faces us once more.

  I realize my hand is clenched tight against the table.

  “Excuse me,” I ask, forcing my voice steady. “When will the ceremony take place?”

  He smiles, untroubled.

  “Festivities begin on the morrow. The groom will undertake the traditional trials, and the ceremony itself shall be held as the sands glow red.”

  Kiereth rises and bows deeply.

  “I would be honored to attend,” he says. “I wish to offer a gift of my own—beyond what my companions have delivered.”

  The request draws startled looks from the Chariot. Ulric’s mouth parts slightly.

  “Then you must remain with us tonight,” Teshan says at once. “For one sent personally by Edgar-val to be present at such a sacred rite—we would be deeply honored.”

  Confusion lingers, thick and palpable.

  Veil huffs softly. “Didn’t hear a question in that.”

  Ulric exhales, then straightens.

  “Thank you,” he says carefully. “We appreciate the hospitality.”

  “We place ourselves in your care,” Cinna adds, visibly delighted.

  I glance at Kiereth.

  Relief softens his features.

  Whoever she is—

  It seems we’ll learn soon enough.