She filled two small tin cups and handed one over. “Maeren,” she said simply. “In case you didn’t catch it the first time.”
Ella hesitated, then accepted.
Maeren grinned and then tipped her cup toward Ella’s with a wink. “Or the second.”
Ella choked on her first sip, coughing against the burn of Fae wine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Maeren’s grin faded. “Jake told me about hiding you. I was furious at first. Doesn’t look good for the future king to be tucking away the castle’s intruder.” She shrugged. “He explained why he didn’t want anyone finding out yet.”
Ella’s eyes widened slightly, heat rising to her cheeks.
“But I’m glad he told us,” Maeren went on, her tone softening. “And I’m glad I got to meet you. Couldn’t resist meeting the woman who bested Savina before she had time to call on her power. Godsdamned impressive.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Ella’s mouth. “I’m not sure I deserve that compliment. I feel bad about hurting her. But desperate times and all that.”
Maeren smiled. “Deadly and humble. I’ll cheers to that.”
They clinked their metal cups. The wine burned, but not unpleasantly, warmth blooming in her chest, unraveling a memory she hadn’t expected.
“My father used to share his Fae wine with me,” she said quietly. “Not often. But on rare nights, he’d pour us each a glass in secret, always in the garden. And I’d beg him to train me.”
Maeren blinked. “To fight?”
“He was a warrior once. Fierce, before he gave it up for politics and peace treaties. I was already learning to fight, but nothing matched the lessons of someone who’d seen actual combat. I think part of him missed the life he’d given up,” she said softly. “But he would only talk about it after a glass or two. He’d say things…that peace doesn’t happen by accident. That someone always pays for it.”
Ella smiled faintly, the ache of missing home tight in her ribs.
“Some of my best sparring happened slightly tipsy. Probably not safe, but it made us laugh.”
Maeren chuckled low. “Sounds like you’d fit right in with this deranged lot.”
“I’m starting to think so,” Ella admitted, her cheeks flushing from honesty…or the wine.
They emptied their cups.
Maeren grabbed a bedroll and tossed it hard to the far side of the camp. “That one’s Savina’s. You’re welcome.” She smirked.
Ella grinned. “Thanks. Make sure it’s far enough. Maybe beyond the trees.”
“I could pitch it outside the kingdom borders,” she said dryly. “And it still wouldn’t be far enough. Sav’s wrath knows no bounds.”
Ella laughed, and for a moment, the tension lifted. “Should we be drinking wine on watch?”
Maeren shrugged. “We’re fine. They’d be back already if they found anything.”
She looked around the camp, at the way firelight danced over the leaves, making them shift, or maybe that was the wine. She was already getting too comfortable with this group. It was hard not to with the way they all teased and laughed at one another.
Their nicknames came easily, spoken with the kind of comfort that only years could build. She’d already heard Maeren say Sav and Jake, and she was certain they had some filthynickname for Thane, maybe even one for Soren. They weren’t just the highest ranked in Dravaryn’s First Guard, they were a close unit.
Ella wondered what it would feel like to belong to something like that.
The thought surprised her with the hope held within it.
She missed her friends in Orchid, especially Nira and Demetrius, and couldn’t help but wonder if they would also have such a tightly knit group if she hadn’t left. She let the moment swallow her before she buried it.
They had unpacked everything, kindled the fire, and there was nothing more to be done. Her gaze drifted around the campsite and snagged on something. She counted the bedrolls again. Wait. There were only four, plus the one Maeren had hurled to the edge of camp.
Ella froze, and at that exact moment, Jakobav stepped from the trees, cloak slung over one shoulder, sword sheathed but ready. He glanced at Maeren and nodded once.
