"That's alright.” Quinn smiled at her. "I just need to examine the weapon. Routine paperwork."
"I must insist, my lord. He'd be appalled if a Solheart arrived and I didn't tell him." Bowing, she hurried deeper into the lavish manor.
Ishida had traveled to Lavaire a few years ago and fallen for their aesthetic. Despite the Tsuyan people appreciating austere homes that did not flaunt wealth and material gains, Ishida covered his walls in paintings of home and afar. The Lavairian people, he said, left no wall uncovered, no table unset. Their food burst with flavors too intense to be imagined. Akemi had longed to see it, but never had the chance.
I stared at a painting of Terishal hanging on the right wall. Far, far to the northeast lay the land of mountains and barrenplains. They built homes covered in beautiful murals, bright tarps stretched above.
Akemi had journeyed there once for a training exercise and adored it. So had my mother. She'd given me a Terishalese name.
I touched the cord around my neck—Akemi's Shatterblade necklace. Father hadn't taken it from me—he hadn't realized I had it.
What would Akemi have decorated this little necklace with?
My least favorite person trotted down the foyer's grand stairwell, one hand smoothing back his oiled hair while the other straightened his Shatterblade robes.
Lord Ishida glanced between us, mouth curling beneath his sharp nose.
He dropped into a low bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Seradh?"
Quinn waved a hand idly. "I need to examine the bow. It's nothing to worry about."
"Of course.” Ishida rose and motioned for the maid to hand Quinn a set of keys. "And, you've brought Diar with you?"
"She's my charge. I thought she could use some fresh air."
"Let me take her off your hands," Ishida offered. "I know how she can be a handful."
Seas, I hated him.
"That's alright, I like her." Quinn motioned for me to follow and turned down the left hall.
Staring at Quinn's back, I pointedly avoided looking at my fiancé until we were a few paces away. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I saw his jaw tighten in annoyance.
But he would not dare rebuke a Solheart.
Quinn leaned in, spinning the keys around his finger. "Do you still want to kill me?"
"Less than I did before," I admitted.
Smirking, Quinn stopped before a heavy wooden door and fitted his key into its lock. It swung open with a weighty creak. When I hesitated outside the room, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in.
The room before me was nearly empty. A heavy thud echoed through the space when the door closed behind us—sealing us inside the vault storing Siotha.
Paragon Ishii's famous bow sat on a display table at the center of the small room. I'd seen it a few times before, but its beauty always took my breath away.
A curving handle of pale blue ended in delicate tips of ice. Intricate designs were carved along the bow, mimicking the complicated patterns of snowflakes.
When drawn, spectral arrows of frost appeared in the wielder's hand. Ishii had demonstrated for us, one spring long ago, after Akemi and I had begged and begged.
The old Paragon had a soft spot for children.
A heavy weight pulled my shoulders down. How could a man who had lived for so long be gone?
Quinn took a step closer to the bow and reached out. He retracted his hand and turned to me. "Do you want to see it?"
"I thought you were here for paperwork," I said.
"I am. You can still touch it, if you want."
