“Olivin,” Eira whispered. No one else could move as silently as he.
“He didn’t mean it.” Olivin’s voice was as hushed as hers, barely audible even from a few steps away.
“He did. And he was right to.” Eira folded her arms, leaning against the large barn door. Moonlight danced in the breezes that rippled through the crops beyond. “I didn’t make the right decisions then—I wasn’t enough of a leader, enough of a decision-maker. I’m trying to do better now, but…”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t control everything.”
“I wish I could.” Eira’s hands balled into fists. “All I want is to protect those I love.”
“I know that feeling all too well.” In a couple steps, he was next to her. A breath away. “You’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.”
“Yet, it feels like it doesn’t matter because nothing I do now will bring her back.”
“Of course what you’re doing matters.” Olivin shifted to face her, brow furrowed in a way that spoke of his disbelief that she’d think differently. “If you succeed, Eira, you’re setting all of Meru free. Noelle is gone, and I know—I knowthat pain. But what you, whatwehave the chance to do is prevent the pain of countless other Noelles from being suffered across Meru.”
She sighed. It was a beautiful thought, but… “Anything beyond us, our group, my crew, hardly feels real.”Or like it matters, if she was being honest. She wasn’t killing Ulvarth for Meru. She was doing it for herself and the memories of Noelle and Marcus.
“What you’re doing for all of us is a help, too.”
“Risking your lives?” she asked dryly. Doubt was a spiral and farther down she spun.
“Yonlin would’ve been lost, earlier, if not for you.” Olivin squeezed her shoulder gently. “How did you know?”
“After they took me…the darkness was different. Locked doors weren’t the same; they might as well have been prison cells.” Eira reached a hand out into the moonlight. “Sometimes, even hazy moments like this, there’s a blur of reality—and the fabrication they made for me to believe was real. If I let my mind wander, I can begin to doubt I ever escaped that place, as if all of this is somehow still part of their game.”
“It’s not.” As if to emphasize the point, he rested a palm on her hip.
“I know.” Eira shifted to rest her hand over his, holding him to her. “The pain is too sharp.” Sharper than the blade of the dagger she’d entrusted to Crow, waiting to be plunged into Ulvarth’s chest.
“I wish…I could ease your pain.” He leaned toward her, nose brushing her temple before his lips pressed gently against her flesh. “Yours, Yonlin’s… I know you doubt, Eira. I understand that feeling. But you’re doing better than you think. Thank you for being there for him in a way I couldn’t.”
“You’ve nothing to thank me for.”
“My gratitude says otherwise.” He sighed softly into her hair, his forehead pressing against the side of her head. “You’re not the only one, Eira, who looks at the suffering around you and sees all the instances of the good you failed to do. But, I believe there could be a future ahead for us, once and for all. A future you and I can build together.”
Eira shifted to look up at him, meeting his eyes. She’d seen intense expressions on him before. But this…it was nearly overwhelming.
Reaching up, Olivin cupped her cheek.
“You, and me, and all we can achieve will be glorious.” He spoke the words like a vow, sealing them with a kiss.
13
They approached the small city in groups of two before the sun was up, staggering. Eira and Cullen were first. After them would be Alyss and Yonlin. Olivin would be last, Ducot on his shoulder.
Eira’s hand rested in the crook of Cullen’s elbow as they passed underneath the entry that hung over the road at the edge of the town. Just like the hamlet they’d seen on their way to the mines months ago, it was two upright columns, a beam across the top. Unlike the town, this didn’t have anyone strung up and gutted. Hopefully it still didn’t by the time they left.
There were no knights guarding the entry, but Eira knew that didn’t mean there weren’t any already watching. She scanned the rooftops and windows, looking for any signs of someone who was paying a little too close attention. But most of the buildings had been shuttered for the night. Only a few had the flickering of an early riser’s candlelight behind them.
The buildings were constructed from solid slabs of stone, tiny lichen speckling them like age spots on the cheeks of an old man. Weathered carvings at the corners bore witness to everything that happened on the streets beneath. The construction was mildly similar to the buildings in Qwint—magic playing anobvious hand with how some stones were set at angles impossible to achieve through traditional means of construction. But, unlike in Qwint, Eira noticed the copious amounts of runes carved into the walls and doors. Etched like protective talismans…or symbols of death.
Overhead, pennons of red and gold fluttered. Each one bore the symbol of Carsovia upon them: a serpent coiled in on itself, almost like a figure eight, never-ending. Their shining threads glinted in the first traces of a pale dawn, like a thousand eyes winking down at them—watching them.
“It’s…a lot,” Cullen murmured, noting the oppressive atmosphere without having to outright say as much.
“Do you imagine Solaris would feel like this to others?” Eira whispered, shifting closer to him so her words would be as quiet as possible. “We have our share of pennons flying with the Blazing Sun of the Empire.”
Cullen hummed. “Perhaps it would.”
