I heal fast. Faster than anyone should. That grants a measure of safety. One that feels more imperative now more than ever, as larger forces close in.
The fate of our kingdom might rest on what we do next.
But I am not alone. I am in the company of people I trust with my life.
I don’t know if I’m caught in some unbearable paradox, or standing at a rare point of balance between opposing forces. Either way, I must find a way to tip the scales in our favor.
Vale has gone to the study to draft a message. Daerin, resting in the guards’ quarters for the evening, will ride at first light to deliver it to Odrin personally. The only way to ensure it arrived safely—and without interference.
Soria is off tending to matters so we can leave in the coming days, as soon as we feel ready.
Everything moves without asking me. Here and at the High Hold alike. Try as I might to hold some control over my fate, the world shapes itself to its own will. At times I feel like merely a bystander. Nonetheless I seek refuge when and where I can. Often in the simplest ways.
I step outside. Standing on the terrace just beyond the parlor, I let the night wrap around me. It’s quieter out here. Still. Toads croak softly from the pond nearby, and I feel a little less alone.
Without disturbing the peace, Ace joins me at my side.
“Here,” he says, offering a mug. The tendril of steam curls up into the warm night air. “I figured this might help settle some nerves.”
“I’m not nervous,” I reply too quickly.
We both know it isn’t true. I stop myself, accepting the mug, and hold it with both hands.
The staff had been dismissed after dinner. He’d brewed this himself. A small, quiet act of care.
“Thank you.”
He nods, forgiving the earlier deflection with grace. We stand in easy silence, side by side.
“We don’t have to figure it all out right away,” he says eventually. “A plan, I mean.”
He stares into the distance, his voice calm and certain.
“Just the next step. Okay, maybe the next two or three. But that’s all. Gods know if we tried planning more than that, we’d be tempting fate.”
He lets out a quiet laugh and takes a sip.
I swirl the liquid in my mug. It doesn’t hold answers. But it holds warmth—and friendship.
As we stand there together, my thoughts take on a different shape.
“There’s magic around us, even now,” I tell him softly. “What do you see when you look out?”
“Uh… trees,” he replies, wincing at his own blandness.
I grin.
But in true Ace fashion, he rallies, raising a finger to buy himself a moment. Then, with more flourish:
“I see the way the moonlight lines every edge in silver. The distance across the valley feels immense and intimate all at once. The mountain peaks make me feel like I could touch the stars if I stood atop them.”
He clears his throat. Sincerity suits him—even if it isn’t his default setting.
“What do you see, Mira?” he asks.
I lean in slightly, drawn by his earnestness.
“Silver moonlight, yes,” I say, eyes scanning the landscape. “But also… so much more. It’s like the way water bends light into rainbows. Every color is alive, radiant, moving. It’s all… living.” I nudge him playfully, still gazing outward. “I wish you could see it the way I do.”
