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“Hello, Razvan,’ I greet the young man as I approach.
He grins the widest smile and has the brightest twinkle in his eyes as he sees me, reminding me he’s only eight. “Hi, Dreyden. We’re almost ready. Dad says that maybe I can go with you next month. Can you believe it?”
I look up, briefly making somewhat amused eye contact with Alaric. He’s smiling with his eyes… always so proud of his son. We both know Razvan won’t be joining us any time soon. It’s too dangerous. The only reason Alaric has made it this long is because I’m here with him while we make the drop-offs. Without my protection, he would have been killed by now, likely murdered by looters or one of the escapees from the Wychwood Forest.
I play along with Alaric anyway, happy that Razvan continuously has something to look forward to while living in such dark times. “Really?” I ask as I stroll forward. “Do you think you’re up for the job?”
The light in Razvan’s eyes dims as his voice turns serious, “I’m definitely ready. I’ve been practicing my fighting skills against the bags of rice in the cellar.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, letting out the lightest chuckle. “I’m sure you’re showing those bags of rice who’s boss, am I right?”
Alaric snorts so quietly that I almost didn’t catch it, and Razvan didn’t catch it while he was busy staring at my gold wings shining in the morning sunlight. “I thought I walked in on a bag of rice falling on top of you while you struggled to stay upright, but I could have been seeing things.”
Razvan stared blankly at his father, at a complete loss for words.
“I’m sure you were seeing things,” I say, shooting Razvan a reassuring look.
The young man-boy’s light returns to his eyes. “Yeah, that’s definitely it.” A sly, mischievous smile spreads across his young face.
Snapping my fingers, the pocket portal carrying my supplies opens beside me, widening Razvan’s eyes so much they look like they’ll pop out of his little head. He does this every time. “I brought more blankets, beans, and seasonings.”
Seasonings are an extremely rare luxury in Tartarus during this time, and they may not be needed, but I know they provide a sense of home when they’re used. The people of Tartarus are fighting for their lives, eating what they can, when they can, and most of the time that doesn’t include any type of seasoning in their food. Plain old rice and beans. Spices remind them of simpler times when food wasn’t so scarce or difficult to hold onto once they had it.
“What kind of seasonings?” Ellia says as she exits the house.
Her long brown hair is braided behind her back, resting over her floral dress. Dark circles dim her blue eyes, and I can feel her exhaustion from across the yard.
“Hello, Ellia,” I say with a quick wave and a nod. “There’s a mixture of spices in the bag today. Revna found what she could in the market and brought it back for us. I saw cinnamon, clove, and pepper. I’m not sure what else is in there, but you’re welcome to look through it.”
“I think I will,” she beams as she pulls the bag from the portal. “I’ve had a craving for cinnamon toast.”
Ellia’s stomach is round and swollen with a growing child inside. It doesn’t look like it’ll be much longer before the baby arrives. This child is a blessing from the gods, but I’m scared for her. I’m scared for all of them. Childbirth in Tartarus with no clinics or healers will be scary. I’ve offered to let them stay in Fire Court when the time comes, but they declined. Their mission here is their top priority, and they know there’s no one to take their place supplying the drop-off locations. I could do it myself, but it would take even more time and I don’t have the connections to spread the word like Alaric does. His network spreads far beyond my knowledge of the area.
A toddler, barely able to walk, emerges from the doorway. Platinum blonde curls top her head, bouncing as she toddles her way into the yard. “Mmm… ma-ma,” she says in the tiniest little voice.
“Come here, Braylee,” Ellia calls to her as she shuffles through the bag of spices, eventually finding a small container of cinnamon.
Braylee giggles at her mother’s voice. Razvan meets her halfway, grabbing her hand as he gently leads her toward Ellia.
Alaric rises from his squatting position, throwing a heavy bag over his back, then raises two more from the ground.
I empty my pocket portal one bag at a time, filling the cart we use to transport supplies. Keeping the supplies in my pocket portal would be ideal, but I don’t have enough power reserves to hold everything while I’m here and portal back to Fire Court at the end of the day. It’s too risky, especially when I must fight feral creatures and looters nearly every day.
Traveling with supplies in the open like this draws attention, but it’s what we must do if we want to continue making large drop-offs at several locations.
“Ready to head out?” Alaric asks when I’ve finished loading the cart.
“Yes, are you?”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he sighs, knowing the day ahead will be long. It’s already brutally hot outside, and it’s only going to get worse.
Ellia scoops Braylee out of the grass, carrying her on her hip as she walks toward Alaric. “Be safe out there. It’s getting worse.”
“Always am,” Alaric smiles, planting a soft kiss on his wife’s forehead.
Her eyes close at his gentle touch, and I wonder if this is the human equivalent of fated mates. Alaric and Ellia share a soft, sweet love that I’ve only seen a few times throughout my life. He puts Ellia and their children first, day after day, and night after night. His love for his family is admirable, and it makes me hopeful for my future with Adeena.
Ellia turns toward me like she does every morning. “Keep him safe,” she threatens through worried eyes.
