The rain continued to fall.

  Persistent. Silent. Almost gentle.

  As if the world beyond the room at the Golden Ferry were trying to apologize for everything.

  Droplets danced against the balcony’s wood, slid down the windows like trembling fingers, fogging both glass and time. The magical lantern in the corner flickered softly, casting long shadows across the walls, over damp belongings and blankets slowly drying beside the brazier.

  Jay sat at the table, his bandaged hand holding an iron goblet with the last of some cheap wine. His eyes, gold like ancient blades, were turned toward the storm outside. But it was clear he did not see the rain.

  Layla sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed. Her axe leaned against the wall—within a single leap’s reach. She huffed under her breath, tail fluffed with tension. She did not blink. She did not move.

  Nessa stood by the window.

  Her face was turned toward the fogged glass, as if trying to see beyond the mist—outward, inward, toward a gentler time. Trembling hands held a cup of water. Her fingers tightened around the glass as though gripping her courage.

  And Su Mei?

  The feline-eyed monk sat upon her heels, reclining lightly against the folding screen that divided the room. Her arms were crossed, brows slightly raised with measured composure, and her gaze—always oblique—was now fixed upon Nessa. An invitation. A warning. A verdict yet to be spoken.

  Jay drew in a slow breath.

  “When you’re ready, Nessa…” he said, his voice lower than the distant thunder.

  Nessa closed her eyes. And drank.

  The water ran down her chin like a droplet upon a statue. Then she grasped the teardrop-shaped pendant at her throat, squeezing as if to remember what was still sacred.

  She offered a prayer. Brief. Wordless.

  And then she spoke.

  “My… true name… is Yel’Nessa Vein Derk.”

  Her voice did not tremble. Yet something in the window seemed to.

  Silence.

  The kind that swallows the air and settles on one’s shoulders like a sentence passed.

  “Princess… of Friedhor…” she continued, breath tight in her chest. “Daughter of Lanthis Van Brieghtr. The former mage of the kingdom.”

  Layla’s eyes widened. A mute mewl escaped her, though no sound followed. Her ears flattened back as she instinctively placed herself between Nessa and the rest of the room.

  Jay straightened slightly, his hand resting upon Visingr’s sheath—not in threat, but in readiness.

  Su Mei inclined her head, as if hearing a fine fable confirmed.

  “She was not… affectionate,” Nessa went on, lowering herself slowly to sit upon the rug, knees together like a child preparing to confess the unforgivable. “She was… energetic. Distant. Demanding. She tried to teach me magic. But…”

  Her voice faltered.

  Jay blinked slowly. And at the name—Lanthis—an image flared in his mind. A face carved by eternity. Eyes like a gathering storm.

  “I was never good enough,” Nessa confessed. “Not as a mage… nor as a daughter.”

  Those words crossed the room with more force than any scream.

  “So I was sent to the Temple of Malkut. There… I found peace. I found… purpose. I healed people. I prayed. I studied. For a time, I believed that was where I belonged. That it was… everything.”

  She smiled. A trembling, fractured smile—like someone recalling a spring long gone, now buried in ash.

  “My mother would visit, from time to time. Rarely. She seemed more tired with each visit. Less… herself. And then… one day, she stopped coming.”

  The glass in her hand cracked.

  “When I turned twenty-five, my father… the king… summoned me back.”

  The tone shifted. The air shifted. The light wavered.

  “And then… hell began.”

  Nessa’s eyes filled, but the tears did not fall. Not yet.

  “Every day… he said I carried power. A dormant power. That I was the piece… the key. And… to awaken it… I had to… I had to suffer.”

  Layla moved. Her claws dug into her knees.

  Su Mei closed her eyes. Slowly.

  Jay said nothing. But his breathing changed. Subtly.

  “I… prayed. But Malkut did not hear me.”

  She looked down at her own hands.

  “My mother was… strange. As if she were a copy of herself. Hollow. But that night… that final night…”

  Nessa lifted her gaze. It was steady now. Burning with liquid silver.

  “She took me from my chamber. Ran with me through the corridors. And… she said only, ‘Forgive me.’ And then…”

  She closed her eyes. And saw.

  “Magic circles blossomed… like flowers from the abyss. All across the castle. And she… she shielded me. Made the whole world vanish. Gave me the sword. And stayed behind.”

  Silence returned.

  But this time… it was sacred.

  Jay looked at her. And for a moment, his eyes were empty. Not of emotion. But of time.

  Lanthis… so you are truly gone.

  Nessa inhaled deeply. And at last, the tears fell.

  “I am no one. But I carry that name. And that sword. And now… I carry you as well.”

  She looked at each of them.

  With the eyes of someone who had lost everything.

  And was still willing to fight for one more thing.

  For them.

  …

  Thunder fell like a verdict.

  The window trembled. The light flickered. And none of the four dared to speak for a span that seemed longer than silence itself.

  Jay rose slowly from the chair. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as if mourning the gesture. He approached the window and drew the curtain aside slightly. Outside, the rain persisted—stubborn, dense, a damp veil over the sleeping city.

  Inside, the air was no longer the same.

  Heavier.

  The magical lamp hissed softly and its blue flame wavered, as though even it sensed that something had shifted forever.

  “…Hmph.”

  Su Mei was the first to speak.

  She rose in a smooth, nearly soundless motion. Her kimono slid along her toned legs like living silk. The gaze that usually wandered like a fox through shadows was now fixed upon Nessa. There was no anger. No pity. Only calculation.

  “This one joined you… out of convenience, at first,” she said, her tone still gentle, yet colder now—like cracked porcelain. “Curiosity, perhaps. A desire to walk. To… observe.”

  She paused.

  “But carrying a fugitive princess? Of Friedhor? That is more than a burden. It is a ticking time bomb.”

  Nessa did not reply. She merely stared at the floor, wet eyes gleaming in the trembling light.

  Su Mei walked toward the door, arms crossed beneath her bound chest. She stopped. Sighed long—like one finishing a haiku she did not enjoy.

  “This humble one requires… air.”

  She opened the door. Cold, damp wind entered like a slap.

  “If I return… I shall walk with you.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  …

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Layla huffed loudly.

  Her tail was so puffed it looked like a potion brush. Ears high. Eyes aflame.

  “‘Princess this,’ ‘princess that’!” She sprang to her feet and stomped. “So what, meow!?”

  Nessa looked at her. Surprised.

  Layla pointed, little claws glinting.

  “I don’t care if you came from a throne, a cell, or a goblin’s cauldron! You’re with us, Nessa! We’ve shared bread, laughter, near-death, and even that horrible juice of Jay’s for over a month!”

  She did not stop.

  “You heal us, you care for us, you’re the warm hug on a cold night! And you know what? Layla here admires you a lot, meow! Even if you’re scatterbrained, too short even for me, and cry like a kitten.”

  She marched to Nessa and planted herself between her and the world, as though challenging the gods.

  “If anyone wants to hurt you… they’ll have to step over me first.”

  She turned her head.

  “Right, Jay?”

  Silence.

  Jay still stood at the window. His hand lightly touched the glass. Raindrops ran downward like small, immutable destinies.

  For a single second, his eyes gleamed with an ancient gold that did not belong to this world.

  He did not turn.

  “The presence of a princess changes everything.”

  His voice was low. Hard. Like a rockslide that makes no sound.

  Layla’s ears lowered.

  Jay continued.

  “Bounties. Hunters. Spies. Mercenaries. There are many who would sell their souls for a name like yours, Nessa. And the name you bear… is a beacon on a storm-torn night.”

  He turned, and his golden eyes seemed… sorrowful.

  “Tomorrow, before dawn… we leave.”

  “But, Jay—”

  “That’s enough, Layla,” he cut gently, yet firmly. “I need to think. Every step from here on… may cost a life. And I have lost too many already.”

  Layla lowered her head. Then she went to Nessa and sat beside her on the mattress, pulling her into a rough embrace.

  For a moment, Nessa froze.

  Then she broke.

  They wept together. In silence. Hands clasped.

  Hearts in ruins—rebuilding, brick by brick.

  Layla fell asleep with her head in the cleric’s lap, while Nessa stroked the amazon’s hair, whispering prayers through tears.

  Jay watched them for a while longer.

  Then he whispered:

  “Lanthis…”

  The memory came like a whisper left at the bottom of a wineglass. A time that no longer existed. A night in Lor’this, where the wind smelled of myrrh and old iron.

  He saw himself again upon the balcony of a high bistro, surrounded by hanging gardens and silk curtains dancing beneath the moon. Below, polished stone streets reflected magical lamplight, and a group of bards sang some off-key lament about dead kings.

  And before him—Lanthis.

  The elf wore a scarlet dress, so light the wind seemed enamored of it. The color of wine and blood. The neckline caught candlelight, and her long red hair—almost crimson—fell down her back in luminous waves.

  She turned a goblet between pale fingers, the gesture too precise to be careless. Violet eyes, luminous, gazed at the city below—beautiful, but sorrowful. Beautiful because sorrowful.

  “I see everything, Jay…” she said, voice low, velvet, weary. “Executions, poisons, lies… I see it all.”

  The laugh that followed was not humor; it was the sound of a woman trying to laugh so she would not cry.

  “But I pretend not to. It is part of my role. If I break, the castle breaks with me.”

  She lifted her gaze, lilac light meeting his gold. A dense silence settled between them—a silence heavy with shared understanding of power’s price.

  Lanthis smiled, but the smile was a blade perfumed.

  “And besides…” she raised her glass, wine reflecting candle flames, “…someone must heal the queen. Whatever it is she suffers from.”

  The wind blew, and a strand of hair clung to her face. Jay remembered the temptation to brush it aside—and the irrational fear of being burned alive if he touched her.

  She seemed made of fire and sin, yet spoke like one who had glimpsed hell.

  And he knew he would never forget that moment—nor that gaze that mingled desire and resignation, the gaze of one who loved human life precisely because she knew it always ended.

  Lightning split the sky.

  Jay closed his eyes.

  And smelled ash at the back of memory.

  He did not know whether this journey was ending.

  But he knew… something new was beginning.

  And it would not be easy.

  …

  The rain fell lightly at dawn.

  As if the sky were weeping quietly.

  The room remained gray. Light slipped through the clouded pane, touching the furniture like hesitant fingers.

  Layla stirred first, her nose—still scrunched from the night—tickling Nessa’s thighs. The cleric had been awake for some time.

  The kiteni opened her eyes slowly. Blinked. Yawned.

  “…Meow…?”

  She looked around.

  Empty room.

  The blanket displaced. Warmth at her chest. Nessa’s fingers… in her hair.

  “N-Nessa?”

  The cleric looked at her with tear-bright eyes and a gentle, broken smile.

  “Good morning, Layla…”

  Layla sprang upright. Her tail puffed. Ears shot high.

  “Where is everyone!?”

  “Jay is not here…” Nessa whispered. “Su Mei… has not returned.”

  “KSST! I KNEW IT! We say ‘group,’ we say ‘brothers-in-arms,’ we perform alliance rituals before a fire, and then everyone runs off the next day! It’s always like this, meow!”

  She paced back and forth, kicking imaginary cushions.

  “When I get my hands on that shameless fox—!”

  The door opened.

  Su Mei stood there.

  Her kimono clung damply to her body, hair dripping against her shoulder, eyes colder than the air outside. And yet… she was there.

  “This humble one… has returned. Do not imagine it was out of longing.” She sniffed lightly. “This one simply… dislikes endings without dessert.”

  Layla’s eyes widened.

  Without thinking, she ran and leapt into a tight embrace.

  Su Mei raised a brow.

  “…Is this one under attack?”

  “Don’t talk. Just let it happen… meow…”

  “Hmph.”

  The monk sighed and, with a measured motion, set the kiteni back on her feet.

  Nessa wiped her eyes, laughing softly.

  “Thank you for coming back…”

  “You are welcome. Save your gratitude. This humble one is uncertain she will survive breakfast.”

  She pointed at her stomach.

  “Well… you shall understand shortly. And there is no need to worry about Jay.” Su Mei removed her damp sandals and sat lightly. “This one encountered him downstairs. He went to fetch breakfast for us. He said, ‘The girls deserve something warm today.’”

  Layla and Nessa exchanged glances.

  And before they could react—

  The door opened again.

  Jay entered.

  A slice of bread between his teeth and two large wooden boxes in his arms.

  “…I hope you’re hungry.”

  The scent—

  It was enough to draw sighs even from statues.

  In the first box:

  Slices of rustic bread, browned in butter and sprinkled with fleur de sel and dried herbs; creamy scrambled eggs with goat cheese and freshly ground black pepper; roasted wild boar with confit garlic, tender and succulent, already torn into pieces ready to devour. A jar of dark fruit preserve and another of honey-whipped butter.

  In the second box:

  Glass bottles of warm milk and fresh coffee still steaming; cinnamon rolls and flaky pastries; wild berries soaked in orange syrup with spices; and, tucked into a corner, the last jar of “yellow slime butter,” which Jay carried like a relic of war.

  “…Is this… paradise, meow?” Layla whispered, eyes shining.

  “Sit. Eat. We can discuss what to do about the entire kingdom afterward,” Jay muttered, setting the boxes down.

  Nessa and Layla could not resist. They threw their arms around him.

  “…Idiot!” Layla sniffled. “I thought you’d left us, meow!”

  “I… I was afraid…” Nessa murmured. “I didn’t want to be alone again…”

  Jay smiled. That calm, warm smile that said: I’m here. I always will be.

  And then—

  “This humble one also desires her portion of the embrace.”

  Su Mei pressed herself lightly against him.

  “W-wait, Su Mei—”

  Too late.

  The kimono slipped slightly. The coolness of rain still lingered on her skin.

  Jay exhaled and traced five subtle seals. A faint glow enveloped him.

  Su Mei stepped back and whispered:

  “…Hm. A blessing against worldly temptation? How rude.”

  “Self-defense,” Jay murmured, looking aside to hide the flush on his cheeks.

  Layla and Nessa exchanged confused looks.

  …

  They all sat around the improvised banquet. Laughter began to rise. The shadows of the previous day thinned like smoke before the aroma of coffee.

  Jay spoke between bites.

  “The rain is easing. That’s good. I thought we might take a barge directly to the Islands of Mukandar… more remote, safer. I have a contact there. But…”

  He took a sip of coffee.

  “…our money is short. And reaching the harbor is not the problem. The problem is spending too long aboard a vessel full of people who might… recognize someone.”

  He looked at Nessa. She lowered her gaze.

  “So we take the road. Longer route, fewer risks. Once we are near Mukandar, we’ll hire a smaller, faster boat. Less time at sea. Harder to track.”

  “Perfect!” Layla said, mouth already full. “But I want a soft bed at the next place, meow! I’m spoiled now, heehee.”

  “This humble one demands a steam bath with eastern salts and an infusion of plum petals, since we had no time to enjoy the bathhouse here.”

  “I just want…” Nessa drew a breath. “…to stay with you.”

  Jay smiled.

  “Then eat well.” He reached for more bread. “Because the road… is waiting.”

  And for a moment, between sips of coffee, tender meat, and muffled laughter, it felt as though the world outside had forgotten them.

  But they would never forget one another.

  ?