She glared at him. “You’re a fool.”
“Don’t test me. You know how fast Central moves. We need to stay on top of this.” Andrin stood. “We return to Grae Port on the first windrunner tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”
He stalked out, leaving Calya alone with the paperwork. She finished her cup, but the cozy, happy atmosphere of the Mighty Leaf was too at odds with her mood. She wandered down to the lake, gazing out over the gently lapping waves. The rain had softened, more of a mist than a drizzle as it pattered the lake’s surface.
She felt more than heard Lowe come up behind her.
“Good news?” he asked.
Calya held the drafted announcement out. For a moment, it seemed that he wouldn’t take it. His hand moved slowly, fingers gripping the paper like it was a weapon.
Maybe it was. Her father had traded magic and a workshop for a politician’s sash, wielded words now rather than runes. The promotion was written like an offer, but only one response would be accepted.
Lowe handed the paper back. “When do you leave?”
His tone was carefully neutral, and when she faced him, his expression remained mask-like. No glimmer of his own feelings.
No sentiment.
Calya faced the water again. “A ship leaves tomorrow.”
A series of inhales, the beginnings of words on the cusp of sound, reached her ears, followed by sighs. Sharp puffs of frustration, as if Lowe struggled to speak. Or forced himself to stop.
Finally, hoarsely, he managed, “Will you be on it?”
Anadae spoke often of how she found the lake soothing. A good place to think and find clarity. Perhaps it was a mage thing, because for Calya, it held no answers. Not the ones she sought.
“We’ve never talked about what a future between us would look like. If it’s even possible,” Calya said. “What does the wind tell you?”
“I don’t know. I won’t ask,” he said. Softly, almost like he was afraid she would blow away. He let his fingers graze her arm. “I want to hear it from you.”
“Long distance would never work. It’s not who I am.”
“Graelynd is your home,” he murmured. “I’d never ask you to leave it. I’ll—I would go with you. If you’d have me.”
Calya still considered her father’s words. His promise, his ultimatum. She could have it, her lukewarm promotion and her ranger. It wasn’t everything she’d hoped for, yet, at the same time, it was more of a future than she’d ever known she wanted. It could be hers.
Everything she wanted. Thought she wanted. It wasn’t really everything, after all. What good was a weak promotion that put her under the yoke of her father’s expectations? Continue the legacy our family has built. Continue the company according to Andrin’s vision. Continue to be a puppet, only now with a fancier title. Upgraded to golden strings, and even that was only because he cared more about his image than rewarding her as she deserved. The stipulated three years meant nothing. Could be continued in an endless loop, even after he returned to politics. Which he’d likely only left to avoid more scrutiny when the bungle with Wembly came out.
Helm Naval. She’d wanted it for so long. Seen it as her path. But what good was a company that could never be hers? How did putting her hope in Andrin one day changing his mind enable her to make her mark on the world? To be the best? To matter?
Lowe was still next to her, tense. Waiting for her—not just for a time, but maybe forever if she were to ask it.
But what good was a ranger without a forest? Without mountains. Without, Goddess help her, this rain-sodden Valley.
“No,” she said.
Lowe remained stiff—until she tore the paperwork in half. Into quarters. Ripped it again and again and cast the fragments into the air, letting the lake have them. He stared at her, eyes wide.
“I won’t have that life. Graelynd would make you a shadow of the man I’ve wanted. It would have me wearing a muzzle to appease my father and his archaic vision.” Calya still faced the water, but she gripped his hand, held him close against her arm.
“Are—are you sure?” he asked, voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear. “Helm Naval… it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“My identity. What drove me to be ambitious and reckless and?—”
“No. Do not trust, that was always for me,” Lowe said. “A warning, because I was afraid of change.”
“It’s all you’ve ever known of me, and now that’s gone,” she whispered. She turned to him, palm cupping his cheek. “I don’t know what the wind said, but if you would have me, I will build us something new. Something greater than anyone could ever dream.”
