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When I focused on her, she said, “Easily repaired. Don’t stress.”
It went against every defense mechanism and broken expectation in me, but I tried to relax about the small damage to the clothing. Instead, I focused on Heath where he rode behind me, his chest covered in that plate armor and his eyes keen on the rolling acreage on either side of the wide road.
“Varím?” I asked.
The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before. Not that it would matter in another few days. Even still, that slow-bubbling curiosity had gotten harder to ignore since leaving Wolfrest.
Heath nodded, but it was Vincent who spoke.
“One of the two kingdoms that ensconce the southern continent of Ferias. The other is Sepra. It is a kingdom like ours, ruled by a king who has sat on the throne for nearly a century.”
Heath snorted. “A king in name only. Everyone knows that Enoch is the one ruling, no matter his father is still technically alive. He all but relinquished power nearly twenty years ago when his wife died.”
Enoch.
The memory of the fight on Magefall slammed into me, blurry only around the edges. It was so visceral, my leg hurt with a phantom pain. My heart raced in my ears as I whipped my gaze to Callum.
“Enoch,” I said shakily. It came out a statement rather than a question. “The man on Magefall?”
Callum nodded, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Yes,” he said, though he didn’t elaborate on the fight they’d had. Was that something secret, like me not participating legally? “He is the Crown Prince, though Heath speaks true—or mostly true, at any rate. He holds significant influence over the kingdom’s court and armies.”
Heath scoffed. “You have significant influence over armies. Enoch treats the soldiers under his tutelage as a mercenary group for his own personal gains.”
Callum raised an eyebrow but didn’t contradict Heath.
“Wait. You encountered Enoch on Magefall?” Reuben twisted in his saddle, wading into the conversation again.
It was Callum who answered, his tone brooking no argument without turning harsh. “Yes. He participated this year. I do not know if he ended up selecting an omega.”
Reuben raised an eyebrow, his expression silent censure. Callum’s lips tightened in response, and Reuben nodded. He turned back toward the road, adjusting easily in his saddle. A moment later, Callum offered a second limello that I turned down. Elyssian swerved closer to his horse, though, even as I shook my head, and Callum gave an exasperated sigh as he corrected her course. The rope connecting the two horses drew nearly taut.
The group dropped into a quiet that felt only moderately comfortable. As the horses continued on, their pace quick and unfaltering—though not the harried flight when we’d fled the urgul—I played with the finger bracelet. The small chains of silver were thin enough to be considered delicate, each point of connection moving nearly as fluid as water itself. I traced one of the dark blue lapis stones that studded the main bracelet circling my wrist.
The same rush of confusing, uncomfortable emotions as when Callum had quietly purchased the jewelry for me in Wolfrest swelled under my sternum until it was nearly impossible to breathe and my chest ached in that desperate, horrid way that had become foreign since aging out of the foster system.
The group that had walked the small town had ended up slightly larger than I’d expected. Only the guard and Reuben stayed behind and a few of the servants opting for the warmth of the inn. Even Emma and James joined, their heads close together as they chatted most of the time.
When they’d opted to peruse the first shop, I’d kept intentionally back. It’s not like I had any money to purchase something, and I didn’t want to give the shop owner any kind of false hope like a small business at a farmer’s market in the height of the summer heat. Callum had stayed near me though never touching, his attention a muted, warm thing toward everyone in the group. It had been Joseph who had encouraged me closer, had looped his arm with mine like Sloane always did and walked with me through some of the shop’s displays.
“Tabitha, this is from Tousir, right?” he’d asked, gesturing to a pair of winged ear cuffs perched delicately on a display stand covered in white velvet. The gold metal caught in the warm light spreading from a lantern lit nearby, adding to the watery light let in by the windows toward the front of the shop. Two finger bracelets were with them, deep red stones circling both the larger loop designed for the wrist and the ring itself.
Tabitha had nodded. Her own black wings seemed to eat the lantern light as she adjusted them every few seconds, the same way I kept messing with the dress’s collar.
“It looks like the type of set worn during the council gatherings,” she’d said. “They wear those and the small finger bracelets as part of the formal dress. Though many wear the bracelets even outside the formal Convergences.”
A second set had sat perched beside the golden wings and matching bracelets, the silver and blue stones a stark contrast. The wings were longer, the metal even more delicate. But it had been the bracelets that had caught my attention. Though I’d done my best to stay unresponsive, Callum had noticed. So had the shopkeeper.
“The blue goes well with your skin,” she’d said with a small smile. Her gaze had flicked to Callum, and she’d grown a bit more nervous. She’d bowed her head. “Having the prince visit is a grand honor.”
I’d tried to give a bland smile back, something that conveyed my appreciation of the compliment without promising any kind of true interest in paying.
Instead, Callum had asked, “Would you like it?”
I’d frowned and stepped away from the display. I didn’t need a pity gift, something to take the sting out of what was inevitably going to happen. I’d had a couple of those over the years, especially when I was younger and Sloane and I were inevitably shuffled to another home.
Callum only asked me a second time. When I’d hesitated, he quietly said something to the shopkeeper in the language that didn’t translate. She’d nodded, and he’d turned to where James stood toward the front of the shop. He’d offered a small, nondescript bag. With a practiced ease, Callum had counted several golden coins and offered them to the shopkeeper. Her cheeks had flushed, but her hands hadn’t shaken as she pulled the finger bracelet from the display and held it out for me.
