Pulling myself away, I moved on to the last lord. Once he had his drink, I'd have no more excuse to loiter.
And eavesdrop.
The sum of my knowledge about the outside world came from what little I could glean in meetings such as this. I treasured every word.
"What if they're not?" Finan pressed. "What if Killian's right, and this time, they're not enough?"
Southern walls that fought off darkness were faraway thoughts for a girl who'd never left home. Would monsters spill through the lands and claim us all?
Sermons spoke of the great black tide that would one day come.
I set down the final glass and tucked my empty tray under my arm. Yuudai shot me a pointed glare—instructing me to leave. Bowing my head, I turned and nearly tripped on my ridiculously long skirt.
I caught one last statement on my way out.
"We would be fools to dismiss a Paragon's warning outright," Yuudai said. "What, exactly, did he ask of us?"
Father still sounded doubtful. He would probably deny Aenir's request.
Hiking up my gown, I marched down the hall, back into the kitchen. Mother flitted about with a pair of servants, preparing dinner. Slabs of smoked fish lay on the counter, generously salted. Fresh bread piled high in a bowl, beside a chutney made from iceberries. My stomach growled, but my mother and I ate after the guests departed.
Hoping to avoid conversation, I tossed the tray onto an empty counter and hurried for the other door. Smoke drifted from the fire burning beneath the bubbling cook-pot and wafted across my nose. Stumbling, I pressed my fingers to my burning eyes, remembering fire from a long-ago night.
Screams echoed around me. The sound of steel cutting flesh. A strong hand grabbed mine to guide me to safety.
Akemi led me through flaming halls, sword held aloft. A shadow stepped from the smoke, a radiant blade gleaming by his side.
Blood sprayed across my face as it tore through Akemi's chest. All I could do was scream.
“Diar?” Mother called. “Are you alright?”
Breathing deeply, I pressed a hand to the wall, steadying myself. The visions had only been memories.
Memories that returned every time I smelled smoke.
Mother watched me with a furrowed brow, but didn't say anything. She wasn't very old, yet her face was lined and worn. Thin, pale hands adjusted her taut bun.
She waited until I rose to speak. "You should change into something a bit nicer."
"Why?" I asked, hanging up the apron.
"Lord Ishida wanted to see you tonight."
Gods, no. My head plunked against the door. "Why?"
"So you can give him an answer."
Why did we play these charades? Everyone knew I couldn't say no. Father had already decided upon our marriage; the rest was pointless tradition.
I exhaled. "Alright." Grabbing the knob, I yanked the door open.
My mother's voice chased me into the hall. "Let me know if you need any help."
The manor was cold as the snow outside. Here in southern Muirashi, decorative flair was considered vain and performative. Simple dark walls and wooden floors had wrapped me in their embrace for years.
I liked our plain aesthetic well enough, but I longed to see somethingdifferent.
Only the echo of my footsteps accompanied me through the silent halls to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I leanedagainst it and stared at my unmade bed. A long white skirt hung from the frame and pooled across the ground.
