But I didn’t get this far by being careless, and I walk Mo and Valar a little deeper into the woods. If Nik’s already caught up to me on the road, we’ll have to take the cross-country route. So long as it stays dry, and I scatter the horses’ dung as they leave it, I doubt he’ll be able to track us down.
It’s some time before I find ground that’s level enough to camp on, and I’ve already stubbed my toe three too many times on unseen rocks. I can’t risk a light, and as I get settled against a rocky outcropping, a cold breeze rustles through my cloak. I can’t risk a fire either, and I get annoyed all over again that Nik’s chased me out of a good, warm bed with Vanya in it.
Cockblocking asshole.
I get the horses taken care of only to realize I’ve lost one whole saddle bag of supplies and the saddle it belonged to. I wonder how much that tack is worth. I’ll save some coin to pay the Crux back, but with luck, hopefully Jessic will think to grab my abandoned supplies. No use in it all going to waste. But as I dig deeper into my supplies, my stomach sinks when I realize my tent was in that damn pack.
As the wind kicks up, I wonder if it wouldn’t be worth it to circle back to the inn for the night. Maybe Nik left to try and catch me on the road. I war with myself for a long moment before I decide it’s too risky.
Instead, I get a sorry excuse for a camp set up, cursing Nik the whole godsdamned time.
Swearing In
No one tells you how to conduct yourself among the rest of the Crux. You can listen to your predecessor, read previous accounts, but at the end of the day, you have to decide how you will fill all the many roles that are required of a Grandmaster of the Crux.
From the journal of Grandmaster Fawn Maitre, previous Grandmaster of the Crux.
Please note that this chapter includes group play, a human serving tray, and free use.
“Hello? Anyone home in there?”
I jerk upright from my scribbled notes, wincing as something in my neck twinges. Cancassi raises an eyebrow from where they’re leaned against the frame to Arlon’s office.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know that you’re doing thatthingyou do,” Cancassi says as they step into the room. They must have just come from a ride, their high boots coated with a fine layer of dust.
“What thing?” I ask as my eyes turn back to my notes. It’s a mess right now. Too many disparate ideas, though not enough to form a solid plan off of.
“That thing where you throw yourself at something until either you crack it or break yourself.” Their cane taps across the floor before they take a seat in front of the desk. “I see it took a whole day for you to fall into the same bad habits you say Arlon has.”
I sigh, rubbing my aching eyes. Now is not the time. “Cass, I have to finish this. Did you need something?”
“No, no,” they say with an air of forced casualness. “Just looking for the company of a friend, but I see you’re too busy for that.”
That snaps through my focus, and I feel like an ass. I’m not the only person who watched the delegation leave yesterday.
“Shit.” I set my pen down and give them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
Something in their posture relaxes. “Me too. I just...” They sigh before saying, “Is it foolish to miss someone who just left?”
“If it is, then we’re both fools,” I say and glance down at my mess of notes. I don’t know how Arlon would feel about the path I’m moving down, but I miss his insight.
“Olbric once told me that he wasn’t made for pining. I thought he was being a little dramatic but,” they click their teeth, “I think I’m starting to understand.”
Hearing that makes my heart ache. Cancassi and Olbric have always been close, but something between them seems to have shifted while I was traveling out east.
“‘A’lynn’ means beloved, right?” I ask, pulling from years of lessons. The history between Kenitka and the Maeve is... storied, so I was encouraged from a young age to learn the basics of the language.
Cancassi’s smile gains a wistful edge. “That’s a simple translation, but in essence, yes.”
“What’s the complicated translation?”
“Its direct translation is ‘the light of my stars,’” they say as they pull their cane to rest over their lap. “It’s meant for someone who brings joy and light to your life. Someone that you would feel... incomplete without.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment for a lover.”
“Not quite,” they say with a grin. “A’marrais the more fitting word for a lover.”
