Meredith changed into her usual attire in a dead-end alley, looking around nervously. Reed had prepared the clothes beforehand so no one would wonder why a noble lady who was visiting an elite establishment would spend the night at an old, mouse-eaten inn.

  While Meredith quietly cursed and breathed heavily as she undid the inconvenient corset hooks, Reed stared stubbornly at the deserted streets. He pretended not to notice that Meredith stood behind him in only her undergarments. He shielded her with his back even though there was no need to. She hid well behind a pile of rotten planks that once were doors.

  No one in the world knew the relief Reed felt when Meredith announced she was ready to move. Without looking, he handed her the hooded cloak and walked toward the main street first. She silently took the cloak and trudged after him, her shoulders slumped.

  "Forgive me," Meredith exhaled as soon as they entered their room. Throwing her cloak hastily onto the floor, she ran to Reed and grabbed his hand. Her fingers were cold but still as soft as ever.

  "For what?" he asked, his eyes widening as he studied her frightened face. He wanted to break free from her tight grip. The image of the regal, inscrutable, and divinely beautiful Meredith still lingered before his eyes, and now it was difficult for him to look at her same as before.

  "For behaving that way with you," she explained while looking bashful. "He thought you were my guard and a servant. I had to pretend until the end. I couldn't even..."

  "Dita," Reed said, cutting off the torrent of explanations. He stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Relax. I know what that was. Very convincing."

  "What he said about you... I don't believe any of it. You know that, right?"

  In response, Reed only nodded as a weak smile flickered on his face. Finally, he was able to step back and the tightness in his chest eased.

  "He was ready to kiss my shoes," she said with a grimace as she relaxed. "He spent the whole evening trying to court me. The old, repulsive..."

  Meredith grimaced with disgust at the memory. Fishing a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket, she began to wipe the white lead and lipstick from her face.

  "Did you manage to find out anything?" Reed asked, moving to the hearth. He started a fire to heat water and pulled a small bundle of dried redflower and amerin leaves from his pocket. He knew Meredith loved that tea, so he had bought it. He sprinkled the leaves into the cups and returned to the fire, making a show of being busy just to avoid looking at her too often.

  "Not much," she groaned in frustration, falling onto the creaky bench near the hearth. "Hector, don't ask me to go there with that Lance again."

  "What’s the matter?" Reed asked with a playful glance over his shoulder. "Didn't like him? He's not much older than me."

  A chuckle escaped his lips as Meredith threw her handkerchief at him.

  "Shut up!" she growled.

  "It is the truth, though," he answered, stifling a laugh. He took the cloth from his shoulder, rinsed it in clean water, and returned it to her, pointing to the traces of white lead still on her cheek.

  "Say that one more time and I'll slap you. You're nothing like him."

  "Thanks to my incredible charisma and divine charm, right?" Reed asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured water over the leaves.

  "And your massive ego," she grumbled.

  "Tell me," he said, his former seriousness returning. Reed took one of the cups and handed it to Meredith. "Everything."

  The story wasn't long or particularly detailed, but Reed forced her to recall the smallest details while ignoring her angry huffing. Meredith suffered through the memory, forced to recount the conversations word for word. Reed listened in silence, occasionally asking leading questions. The cup in his hands warmed his chilled fingers, but the drink itself held no appeal. Meredith finished hers quickly, and he offered her his own cup with a smile.

  "Is that all?" he finally asked.

  "Holy Alaira, yes!"

  "Good." Reed stood up and scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Go get some rest. We leave tomorrow."

  "And you?"

  "I need to think." He grabbed his cloak and belt before heading for the door.

  "You can't think in here?"

  "It’s easier outside."

  "Haven't found enough trouble lately? And when are you going to clean your wound?"

  Reed winced at the tiresome necessity. "Tomorrow."

  "No." Setting her cup aside, she stood up. She frowned and stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. Reed gave her a faint smirk. The information he'd received was throwing him off, and the memory of her steely beauty that night didn't make his task any easier.

  "Sit."

  "Dita," he began imploringly.

  "Sit, I said."

  And Reed gave in. He could not resist her. He could not refuse. If anyone else had tried to speak to him in that tone, he would have turned rude and done exactly the opposite from what he was told. But not with her. Gloomily tossing his cloak back onto the bench, he began to unlace his armor. His fingers were clumsy as he shivered under Meredith's searching gaze. Seeing his temporary helplessness, she stepped in to help. Stopping her with a gesture, he grumbled, "Don't."

  Finally, the leather armor hit the floor, and Reed pulled off his shirt with a soft groan, feeling the pain echo in his injured back. Meredith, without saying a word, pointed to a chair and pulled out clean cloth and some foul-smelling ointment.

  "Is it always gonna reek like that?" Turning around, he made a face of pure suffering.

  "Since when did you become so delicate? You'll survive."

  Contrary to her words, thinking was impossible. Her warm hands, the light breath tickling his bare back, and the soft, careful touches distracted him and clouded his mind, forcing him to think of anything but his plans. Meredith’s fingers still trembled nervously, and Reed watched. What would she say if he tried to steady that trembling? Would she laugh or push him away? Or perhaps she would pretend nothing had happened?

  She picked up the bandaging cloth and sat to his right. Reed studied her face, searching for disgust or a desire to finish as soon as possible and pull away, but he found none. Meredith flushed and bit her lips, occasionally smiling awkwardly when she had to lean closer. Her loose hair tickled his shoulder and arm, but Reed didn't flinch. He only tried to understand what her hair actually smelled like. The scent was light and almost elusive, slipping away every time she pulled back. He wanted to feel that scent on his skin, to bury his face in the thick strands, and run his fingers through them.

  Reed brushed aside the wild fantasies but was ultimately forced to admit the futility of his efforts. To justify himself, he decided it was merely the result of long-term loneliness, for it had been a long time since he had a woman in his bed. Yet that was true only partially. Some secret part of his being knew this was self-deception.

  When Meredith finished, Reed breathed a sigh of relief, pulling on his shirt. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't notice Meredith’s gaze sweeping over his ribs and stomach with interest and a touch of awe before his clothes hid his body. He only heard a soft sigh and the creak of the bed as she sat down.

  "I’ll be back in the morning. Lock the door."

  "But Hector..."

  She likely wanted to stop him, but Reed gave her no chance. He pulled his clothes on haphazardly and bolted outside. Finally, the cool currents of night air enveloped his flushed face, and he allowed himself to relax. Reed covered his eyes with his palm as leaned his back against the dirty wall and sank down. Only one question spun in his head: what was wrong with him?

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  ***

  Meredith pouted the whole morning. She didn't speak when Reed returned, and didn't grant him a single word while preparing. She remained majestically silent most of the way, as Reed struggled to decide what was worse: when she was too close or when she was too far. Lacking the courage to speak first, he just followed her. Meredith finally melted as evening approached. They stopped for a short rest, and she even looked at Reed without any lingering anger. He returned a weak smile and exhaled with relief upon seeing her reaction.

  "So, what did you decide?"

  "I don't know yet. I have an idea, but it seems difficult."

  "Will you share?" she asked with genuine interest, handing him a tin cup of tea.

  Reed shrugged as he took a sip.

  "You mentioned the tournament," he began cautiously, watching a horse graze in the distance. "I think we can use it to get into the castle. What you found out confirmed my suspicions. The castle is a fortress with too many guards and too many eyes. This advisor of yours, Salvat, never leaves the castle alone. If he does, it’s with an escort that looks more like an army. I can't slip into the castle as a spy, and I can't get close on the street. Even if I kill him, it will be a death sentence because I won't be able to escape."

  "And if you pass the tournament trials, they’ll take you into the guard," Meredith summarized, studying Reed intently. Biting her lip, she continued, "But there is a problem. You’ll only be allowed to participate if you have already served a lord or been a city guard."

  "I thought about Bradenmain," he said, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "The papers could be stolen."

  "That’s not an option. They will check them."

  "Why? I don’t need much time. I’ll make it."

  "And if you don't? What if they catch you anyway? You said yourself the castle is full of guards and servants. Are you sure you'll have any time at all? Do you even know how the tournament selection works?"

  "Then I have no options," Reed grumbled angrily, draining his tea in one gulp. Standing up, he called for the horse.

  "It’s still an option," Meredith said soothingly. She stepped closer and placed her hand on his forearm, forcing him to turn around. Reed flinched but didn't pull away.

  "All the Forfield aristocrats and captains of the watch are just rushing to give me real papers. Don't talk nonsense."

  "Maró might be able to help. He’s from a wealthy family himself, so surely there’s someone..."

  "Then we’ll talk about it later. Let’s go."

  "Hector?"

  Reed muttered something incoherent, adjusting the bags.

  "Turn around."

  Reluctantly, he turned to meet Meredith's searching gaze.

  "What is wrong with you?"

  "I'm fine," he said, trying to smile. By habit, he tried to hide behind a mask, but failed. With Meredith, all his skills in hypocrisy lost their power, and he couldn't joke when she looked at him like that. Especially when he himself already looked at her differently. After all, he had been right to believe they should never have seen each other again. This was what came of it.

  "Don't lie to me. Are you angry?"

  "Not at you."

  Meredith arched an eyebrow, and Reed gave in.

  "At myself, Dita. I'm angry at myself."

  "For what?" Stepping even closer, she grabbed his hands and pulled him toward her. "You haven't done anything wrong."

  "You have no idea what I've done," Reed said, breathing heavily as he freed his hands.

  "And that's in the past now."

  "My past isn't much different from my present. And that's not the point anyway." He waved his hand and looked away, and that was that.

  "I don't understand you, Hector. Is there really something so complex or terrible that I have no right to know about you?"

  "No. I just have no right to say it," Reed snapped, mounting his horse. "Let's go. It’s gonna get dark soon."

  Meredith stepped back and awkwardly pressed her lips together as she watched him. Her fingers fumbled with her dress sleeves once more, while Reed cursed himself for being so rude. Why had she even asked? He was certain his obsession would pass soon, and it wasn't worth a scene like this. Now he would have to apologize. She was just worried about him. Reed felt sharp pang in his chest. He felt like an utter villain.

  Meredith gave him one last worried look at him and mounted her horse. They continued their journey in silence.

  ***

  They arrived in the dead of night. Both were silent, and their painful, tense quiet was broken only by the rustle of leaves and the chirping of cicadas. For the first time in his life, Reed experienced such vague, confusing feelings. It was so unfamiliar that at times it even frightened him. Figuring it out was almost as difficult as crossing the Rattlesnake River.

  Meredith rode ahead, frustrated. Even though her face was hidden by the darkness, Reed knew it and feared he had been too harsh. He had already prepared several phrases for an apology, but they refused to leave his lips. So, he simply stayed in silent self-reproach, waiting for a perfect moment that never came.

  Upon meeting the sentry, Meredith waved and threw back her hood, while Reed didn't even look the man's way. His gaze was entirely fixed on Meredith’s proudly straightened back.

  Maró was waiting for them outside, hidden in the shadows. He stepped out too abruptly, and Reed barely restrained himself from breaking the heavy silence with a few not so nice words. He checked himself in time, dismounted, and approached Meredith to offer his hand. Meredith ignored him and climbed down from the horse herself and, maintaining a majestic silence, vanished into the gloom.

  "I see the journey went well," Maró said with a hint of a smile in his voice.

  "Yeah," Reed grumbled.

  "Should I be concerned?"

  "I didn't do anything to her," Reed replied, casting an incinerating look at Maró before turning away. The mage didn't answer, but continued to press with an eloquent gaze that pierced Reed’s back like a dagger. Reed flared up. He couldn't stand the exhausting silence and spun around sharply. "Go ask her yourself if you don't believe me."

  "Do you think she would tell the truth? She could be scared to speak."

  "Does she look like she’s afraid of me?" Reed gave a short laugh. "More like she despises me.

  "And is there a reason to?"

  "As if it isn't obvious. Let’s go, we need to talk." Reed urged Maró along because the conversation was unimaginably irritating and insulting to him. He might not have been the most well-mannered mercenary in all of Forfield, but the mere suspicion that he could harm Meredith threw him into a righteous fury.

  "We had an argument on the way," Reed muttered as Maró led him through the gloomy corridors of the lair. Maró only hummed without turning back.

  "Iris!" the mage shouted as they entered a large common room scattered with points of candlelight.

  "Master?" Iris emerged from around a corner, making Reed wince. It was a very inconvenient place if people could jump out so suddenly. Gripping the hilt of his dagger tighter, Reed frowned.

  "Check his wounds."

  "I’m fine."

  "Are you?" Maró gave Reed a mocking look. "Weren't you wounded just a few days ago?"

  Reed gritted his teeth and grimaced.

  "I thought so. When you're done," this was addressed to Iris, "bring him to me."

  Iris nodded and then quickly approached Reed, pulling at the edge of his cloak.

  Iris’s room was cramped. Apparently, she had a penchant for hoarding junk, which now lay in literally every free corner. She seated Reed on the bed and gestured to remove his armor. He obeyed in silence while observing her cluttered sanctuary.

  "How do you know Meredith?" Iris asked suddenly as she cut his bandages. Her hands were soft and light, but they were not like Meredith’s. They were foreign. He shuddered involuntarily and turned slightly to meet Iris’s round, sweet face.

  "Why you ask?"

  "I’m curious," she smiled. "So, how?"

  "I knew her father," Reed said, feeling a wave of shame wash over him at the sacrilegious lie.

  "Didn't her parents die?"

  "And did I say it was yesterday? She was still a child, and I worked for her father."

  "But... how?"

  "How what?" Reed snapped nervously. "The same way I work for Maró, just lower price."

  Iris fell into a puzzled silence and tossed the used bandage into a trash bin. When a cold, damp cloth touched his skin, Reed flinched. He probably shouldn't have spoken to her that way, since she wasn't to blame for his restless thoughts.

  "I’m sorry," he said, the word coming with such difficulty that he had to clench his fists.

  "It’s fine," she replied softly, applying the ointment.

  "I’m serious, Iris." He turned again to look at her, and she offered him a gentle smile.

  "Last time you threatened to kill me, so this isn't the worst I’ve heard. Others have heard worse. Tallis can't stand you at all."

  "Really?" Reed perked up, trying to hide a smug, malicious smile.

  "You sent her to pay her respects to Vesifer. She’s very sensitive." Iris giggled, and Reed laughed out loud. "She was absolutely fuming. You should have heard her."

  "Oh, I would have loved to," he said with satisfaction. "By the way, what are you doing here? Are you a mage too?"

  "Maró is my father," Iris said, a trace of sadness flicked in her voice as she looked away.

  "Really?"

  "He doesn't like to talk about it. Earning his love and recognition is harder for me than performing a miracle I have no talent for. My father’s heart is too cruel toward those who don't meet his expectations."

  "And you’re still here? Why?" Iris finally pulled back, walking away to wipe her hands. Reed moved his shoulders against the chill while keeping his eyes on the girl.

  "And why are you?" she countered, tossing her head proudly.

  "I get paid."

  "You refused the moment you heard my father’s offer."

  "I have my own reasons," Reed said, evading the answer as he stood to pick up his shirt.

  "And so do I." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Are you here because of her?"

  Reed’s eyes widened. He hadn't expected such a blunt question and quickly felt self-conscious, biting his lip. The thought of Meredith stung painfully again, and Reed began to boil.

  "I’m here because I’m paid. Nothing more, nothing less."

  While Reed dressed, Iris stood motionless. Her fingers nervously fumbled with the cloth she had used to wipe her hands. Reed fastened the last strap of his armor and looked her over. Iris stared at the floor with a blank gaze, pursing her lips as if on the verge of tears.

  "Iris?" he called. Reed almost touched her shoulder but pulled back in time. She jerked at the sound of her name and immediately put on her usual smile. Seeing the dimples in her round cheeks, Reed smiled and said softly, "Thank you."

  A shadow of embarrassment crossed her face, quickly replaced by joy.

  "It’s nothing."

  Reed already had his hand on the door when he turned back to her. "Don't think you're worse than others just because you're not what your father needs. Don't let him deceive you."

  Reed didn't know how to comfort others, but he knew exactly what it was like to feel like a nobody, being invisible to others. Iris was somewhat like him. Except she has never been imprisoned by kreyghars but only by the cruelty and coldness of her own father. She didn't look like the daughter of a fearless, powerful leader. Instead, she looked more like a frightened mouse.

  "Thank you, Reed." Her lips trembled, but she kept the smile on her face. Pursing his lips awkwardly, he left, leaving Iris alone. She needed to compose herself, and he would find Maró on his own.