Page 84

As they passed a clearing, the steady rhythm of movement drew their attention.

A group of warriors trained in the field—men and women alike—about thirty of them, moving in coordinated drills. Light glanced off blades and wooden staves cracked against one another. Breath steamed in the cold air.

They did not stop training when Blaidd and Sulien passed, but eyes flicked toward them. Kenji was among them, instructing two young boys, and his hostile gaze followed them.

Sulien slowed slightly.

"Do you smell that?" he asked.

Blaidd inhaled once, dismissively. "Smell what? The sweat of thirty people?"

Sulien shook his head faintly, looking around. "No. Jasmine."

Blaidd looked at him as if he had finally lost his mind. "You have suffered too many blows to the head, brother," he said flatly. "It is winter. There is no jasmine."

Sulien did not argue. He merely kept walking, thoughtful.

And Blaidd, though he pretended indifference, found himself inhaling again—deeper this time. Still nothing.

They entered a courtyard framed by a wide wraparound veranda.

It was a low, one-story building, its wooden beams dark with age, its roof sloping low against the winter sky. The courtyard itself was swept clean, gravel raked into careful lines. A single bare tree stood at its centre, branches skeletal against the pale light.

The boy who had led them disappeared beneath the veranda and slipped through one of the sliding wooden doors. Blaidd and Sulien remained where they were, until a few moments later, the boy returned and gestured for them to follow.

They stepped onto the veranda, the wood creaking faintly under their weight. Paper-panelled doors stood partially open, revealing a large interior chamber lit by two oil lamps. The room was austere—no rugs, no cushions beyond what was strictly necessary.

On one wall hung a large painting of a battle scene. Wolves and warriors clashed beneath a red sky, steel and fang indistinguishable in the chaos. It looked less a celebration of victory and more a reminder.

At the far end of the chamber sat three middle-aged figures on low stools—two men and one woman in traditional wear.

They watched them approach and bow without rising or returning the courtesy.

The woman spoke first. "What is your business here, Northerners?"

Blaidd and Sulien exchanged a brief glance.

"I have come in search of my one," he said bluntly. "I won't waste your time because I am sure you must have guessed what must have passed between us for her to leave me. And I know that some of my mistakes are not easily forgiven. But I would like the chance to win her back. Or at least...make peace with her."

Silence followed.

The man seated to the right leaned forward slightly. His eyes were pale brown, sharp and unblinking, like an eagle studying prey from a branch. He regarded Blaidd for a long moment, measuring his words carefully. "Faelynn is a very talented young woman," he said at last. His voice was calm, but there was iron beneath it.

"I owe her a life debt," he continued. "She saved my son. She is under our protection."

The woman beside him did not speak, but her gaze held Blaidd's.

"We do not wish to be at odds with the northern tribes. But understand this: the only reason you are permitted inside this village," the man went on, "is because I believe Fae should be given the choice. And she has not yet said no."

Blaidd held his gaze without flinching.

"You are not to disturb her while she works," the man continued. "Perhaps you would like to occupy your time with our warriors. Fae will soon arrive to begin her duties, and you will not be present to distract her."

It was a quiet warning.

"If she asks you to leave, you leave." The man paused, studying Blaidd's reaction.

"I know how it is with wolves…the instinct," he added. "We foxes can choose, but once we establish the bond, it is the same as with the wolves." His eyes shone fox-bright with threat. "I do not wish for her to suffer."