Quickly, Kaelen stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you for inviting us to your fire. I’m Kai, and this is my brother, Lark.”
When he straightened, he didn’t miss the amused curve on the princess’s lips.
“They’re the friends I mentioned,” she said to the family. “This is Xian Jun, his mother Ru Rong, and his wife Su Lian. I believe Mei Mei already made introductions.”
Xian Jun inclined his head, his gaze steady, weighing them with the quiet scrutiny of a man who’d seen enough of the world to tread carefully.
Still, his voice was cordial as he said, “Welcome. Any friends of Yara are welcome at our fire.”
Ru Rong’s smile was warmer, her eyes crinkling with the easy light of someone who hadn’t let the years dull her spirit.
“Come,anh. Sit,” she said, beckoning them closer. “It’s not every evening we host guests who bring flowers.”
She winked, and Kaelen grinned, pulling out the small bouquets he’d gathered earlier.
“For the lovely ladies of the Xian family,” he said, and was rewarded with soft laughter and beaming smiles as they accepted the offering.
He looked around the fire. The signs weren’t loud, but they were there if one knew how to look. The old Talharen patterns stitched intotheir tunics, the careful knots at their belts—small markers, worn like second skins. Even the wagon bore faded Talharen patterns, the kind painted by families who’d traded city walls for open sky.
The people who knew how to pack up a life and carry it on their backs, road after road.
He caught it in their faces, too—the gentle tilt of their eyes, the light tint of their skin, the melodic lilt in their vowels when they spoke. Xûen blood, worn easy now, mixed into the dust and leagues like everything else.
If Yara had found her way to them, perhaps it wasn’t just luck.
Perhaps a part of her had always belonged to the road.
“Our fire is yours,” Su Lian added warmly, setting a broad griddle over the flames. “You must be hungry.”
A thick pat of butter hit the iron with a sharp hiss, the air filling with the rich scent of goat’s milk and smoke.
She turned to Reiya with an easy smile. “Yara, would you mind making the griddle cakes? I’ll fetch something to drink for our guests.”
The request didn’t sound like a favour. It sounded like trust—like the kind that built itself over small, quiet days together.
Kaelen and Alarik settled by the fire, watching as Reiya stepped forward without hesitation. There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved—folding the batter onto the griddle with a sure hand, the firelight catching in the strands of her hair.
She didn’t look like a princess now, nor a runaway.
Just a woman who knew how to tend the flame.
With a flick of her wrist, she flipped the cakes, their golden surfaces gleaming as she scattered preserved vegetables and thin curls of cured meat across the griddle. The smell rose up, warm and mouthwatering, and Kaelen’s stomach answered with a low, traitorous growl.
The princess handed him the platter of food. He murmured his thanks, but the moment his fingers brushed hers, nostalgia struck, pulling him back to the tournament—the moment she crowned him with the victor’s garland.
The memory unfurled as vividly as if it had happened yesterday—the warmth of her wrist, the silken glide of her skin as he kissed it in quiet homage, her erratic pulse beneath his lips.
Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition passing between them.
His mouth watered—no longer for the food, but forher.
She turned away first, breaking the gaze, but Kaelen caught the faint colour blooming in her cheeks.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one holding on to the memory.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows as they settled into their meal. The warmth of it, coupled with the gentle hum of voices, wrapped around him. Mei Mei’s bright chatter filled the space, her small hands waving animatedly as she described the winding paths her family had travelled. Her excitement was infectious, drawing quiet smiles even from Alarik.
Xian Jun continued, weaving stories of desert traders and hidden markets along the Great Salt Road—glimpses of a life Kaelen had once only imagined from behind palace walls, listening to councillors drone on about tariffs and treaties.
