"I have a council review in Denvara by midday." He buckles his belt. "If I leave now I make it without riding hard."
I watch him move through the tent — efficient, practiced. He’s gone through this routine hundreds of times. He checks his saddlebag, rolls his spare map, sets two things aside for Cyran.
He pauses at the tent entrance and looks back at me.
"I'll return in four days," he says. "Five at most."
I nod. "I'll be at the forge."
He almost smiles. He goes.
I lie there in the grey pre-dawn light, listening to the camp come awake outside, and I press my palm flat against the blanket where he was lying an hour ago.
The warmth is mostly gone.
I stare at the tent ceiling and let the thought I've been circling settle into something I can actually name.
I'm in love with him.
I’m not sure where to put that. But I know it's true, and I know it's been true for longer than I've been willing to admit, and there's no math in the world that makes it simpler.
I get up, dress, and walk back to the village in the cold morning light.
20
NYRIUS
I'm still pulling off my riding gloves when Thalen walks through my front door.
He doesn't knock. That's a reminder that he considers himself equal in standing, which means he's here to press something he thinks will land better on home ground than in council chambers.
"You look tired," he says, settling into the chair nearest my fire without being invited.
"I've been riding since before dawn." I set my gloves on the table and stay standing. "What do you want, Thalen?"
"A conversation." He crosses one leg over the other. "About your territorial priorities."
"My priorities are documented and submitted quarterly."
"Your documented priorities don't mention reducing labor quotas across six border settlements." He produces a folded paper — my draft reform proposal, which means he has someone in my administrative office. I file that away. "They also don't mention renegotiating merchant guild contracts, establishing village medical aid funds, or—" He looks up. "My personalfavorite — a review board for tax collection disputes staffed by human representatives."
"Human residents of those territories have a functional interest in accurate collection." I go to the sideboard and pour water. I need something in my hands that isn't his collar. "They also have direct knowledge of local conditions that my administrators consistently lack."
"They are laborers and tradespeople." Thalen sets the paper down. "Not governance partners."
"They're the people the governance is supposed to serve." I turn to face him. "If the system isn't working for them, the system isn't working."
"This is the blacksmith talking." He says it plainly. "You've been spending time with a human woman who resents elf authority and it's rewritten your priorities."
"My priorities are based on weeks of direct observation and years of reports that were apparently being manipulated by the magistrate I trusted to prepare them." I set my cup down. "One person's perspective confirmed what the evidence already showed. That's not sentiment. That's information."
"It looks like sentiment from where the council sits."
"Then the council should come look at border village records instead of sitting." I walk to the door and open it. "We're done, Thalen. Save the rhetoric for the formal session — I'll have responses ready."
He stands slowly, in no hurry to suggest I've moved him. He takes his paper back from the table and tucks it inside his coat.
"You're building enemies," he says at the door.
