He’s doing what he always does—brings joy into every room. Allows people to remember what came before all this. What might exist after it.
“Aren’t you due back in Nymeris already, Rubes?” he teases, biting his tongue between his teeth.
Another laugh escapes her. “And miss all this? Never.” She takes another long pull on her flask.
The room fills with laughter, but laughter soon settles into silence.
Teddy clears his throat.
“Are you going to claim your Taaruvi mare, El?” he asks sternly. Like he’s coming to terms with a myth made flesh.
She turns her gaze to the window again, following the sound of the hooves that call to her. Her hands lift, pressing into the frame of the window, as if she can reach out to the sound.
“It can wait. Dravara is all that matters right now. It might be a call from fate, but fate doesn’t determine what I do… what I become—I do.” Her voice is certain, clear.
As if denying it might make it lose its hold on her.
But Kael knows the inside of war—what it takes, what it costs, what it makes a person—and he knows she’ll need every advantage she can get.
“These horses, my love, they are said to help you, protect you, serve your will. They are devoted to your Great Calling in the same way you are,” Kael explains, softening his voice.
She keeps her gaze fixed into the distance, eyes unfocused. “I refused to let fate decide my future at the start of all of this, Kael. I’ll refuse it until my will is stronger than any story the Stars write for me.”
His voice softens further, overriding the sinister darkness that seeks to leash him, “Then it’s settled: we go when you’re ready, my love.”
She nods, but Kael feels Teddy’s eyes on him like a brand.
He looks to his General, and understanding passes between them. Not words—a knowing. A recognition that all is not well. That Kael is carrying something he refuses to name.
Teddy takes a step forward, closing the gap between them.
“Brother—”
But Kael cuts him off.
“One more thing before we depart,” Kael announces.
All eyes turn to him, settling there like a weight he can barely hold.
He clenches his jaw, molars grinding together with a force that might crack them.
He drags his gaze across the room—at all the people who gave so much, lost so much, risked so much to save Zerynthia, his throne, his sister—and resolve takes root in his bones.
“Nalya is gone.”
Time pauses.
Breaths snag in throats.
Teddy’s head drops back, eyes closed against the news.
But the world does not tremble.
It simply continues.
“She returned herself to the Stars to claim the peace life never gave her.” His voice breaks, thick and raw and hollow all at the same time.
Silence fills the room.
