A man rounds the corner and stops when he sees them. He is middle-aged and neatly dressed, with an efficient bearing that says his entire purpose in life is keeping other people on schedule. His eyes move from the twins to Evran and back again.
"There you are," he says, his exasperation so carefully modulated it has clearly been refined over years of saying these exact words. "You're needed at the Keep. Both of you. Your mother has been asking."
Tria groans. Arin looks guilty. The handler, and he is clearly a handler, a steady, unflappable person assigned to the children of important people, turns to Evran.
"Sir, do you need an escort back to the eastern wing?"
Evran shakes his head. "I'm fine. I can find my way back."
"Are you sure?" Tria asks, already being herded away by the handler's pointed look. "The corridors can be confusing, especially near the kitchens, there's this one hallway that loops back on itself."
"Tria. Now."
"I'm coming, I'm coming."
"It was good to meet you, Evran," Arin says, and offers a small, genuine smile before his sister grabs his arm and pulls him along.
Evran watches them go and feels the quiet settle around him. The courtyard is emptying as the evening pulls people indoors, and for the first time since they arrived this morning, he is alone.
He walks to the fountain.
It sits in the center of the inner courtyard, a broad stone basin with water trickling from a carved figure at its center, a woman holding a sheaf of grain, her face worn smooth by years of weather. The stone bench beside it is cold when Evran sits, but he does not mind. He tips his head back, closes his eyes, and breathes.
The air is different here than in the Drakkari highlands, thicker, carrying the green smell of the valley and the distant sweetness of orchard blossom. The water in the fountain murmurs its steady, thoughtless song. Somewhere a door closes. Somewhere someone laughs. Evran feels the tension of three days on horseback and an afternoon of names and faces drain out of him, slow and welcome, and for a long, quiet moment he simply exists in the gathering dark and lets the day release him.
His fingers find the braid at his temple. The beads are warm from lying against his skin all day. He traces them, one by one, and thinks of Vaike's hands in his hair by firelight, and the wordhusbandblooms in his chest and stays there, steady and belonging to him.
He does not know how long he sits there. Long enough for the light to thicken into true dusk. Long enough for the courtyard to go fully quiet.
He faintly registers someone sitting beside him.
The bench shifts. A presence, close but not touching, settling into the space beside him with an ease that suggests it belongs there. Evran assumes it is another delegate, or perhaps a retainer coming to check on him, and for a moment he does not open his eyes.
Then he does.
There is a man beside him.
He is clearly from outside the Rendari delegation. The clothing is wrong, lighter, cut differently, in shades of grey and pale blue that do not match any delegation Evran has seen today. His hair is short and blond, catching the last of the evening light, and there is the hint of a beard along his jaw, neatly kept. He is muscular but not broad, built more for riding than brawling, and his face is handsome in a way that is almost too easy, symmetrical and open, a face that invites trust before it has been earned.
He is smiling at Evran.
"Are you with the Drakkari clan?" he asks.
The voice is pleasant, the accent carrying a lilt that Evran does not recognize, eastern perhaps, something from beyond the mountains he knows.
Evran straightens up on the bench and returns the smile, because he is a guest in this place and politeness costs nothing. "Yes. We came in this morning."
"I thought so. I saw you ride in." The man extends his hand. "Torsten. Windfar clan."
Evran takes it. The grip is firm but not aggressive, the hand dry and sure. "Evran."
"Evran," Torsten repeats, as though tasting the name, holding it on his tongue a moment longer than necessary before releasing it. He lets go of Evran's hand and settles back on the bench, crossing one ankle over his knee, comfortable. "How was the journey across the mountains? I've heard the northern pass is beautiful this time of year, but I've never taken it myself. We came up from the east."
"It was beautiful," Evran says. "The wildflowers are just starting to bloom in the high passes. I've never seen anything like it."
"First time?"
"First time through the mountains, yes. First time at a Gathering."
