CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Dawn crept across the fjord in hushed shades of pearl and slate, its gentle light barely enough to distinguish water from sky.
Thalia pulled her woolen cloak tighter around her shoulders as she moved between shadows along the dockside, each breath forming ghosts that faded into the frigid air.
The pendant against her chest seemed to beat in time with her racing heart, a steady rhythm that echoed her purpose.
Find her family. Save her home. No matter the cost.
The schooner waited at the end of the northern dock, a sleek vessel with trim lines and dark sails furled tight against its masts.
It was smaller than the academy's standard patrol ships, built for speed rather than confrontation.
Perfect for slipping unnoticed into enemy waters.
Thalia paused behind a stack of supply crates, studying the deck for any sign of instructors or other witnesses who might report her presence.
Roran moved across the deck with quiet efficiency, checking lines and securing supplies.
His hands moved with the confidence of someone born to the sea, each knot tied with practiced precision.
Near the bow, Ashe stood sentinel, her tall form rigid against the lightening sky, eyes scanning the shore with predatory focus.
Of Kaine, there was no sign—he was likely below deck, making final preparations.
Thalia drew a steadying breath. One step onto that gangplank would transform her from soldier to deserter, from academy defender to outright rebel.
A court-martial awaited if she was discovered.
Perhaps worse. But the alternative—remaining at Frostforge while others searched for her family—was unthinkable.
Her decision made long before she'd left her quarters, Thalia stepped from the shadows and strode toward the ship with purposeful steps.
No furtive glances or hesitation now; such behavior would only draw attention.
She walked as if she belonged, as if her presence on this mission was expected rather than forbidden.
Ashe spotted her immediately, eyes widening a fraction before her face settled back into its usual stoic mask. With a nearly imperceptible nod, she moved to intercept Thalia as she boarded.
"You came," Ashe whispered, gripping Thalia's arm and steering her swiftly toward the hatch leading below deck. "Quickly, before someone sees you."
The hold yawned open beneath them, a cave of shadows and whispers.
Thalia descended the narrow ladder, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dimness.
The air hung thick with the scent of salt-soaked wood, preserved grain, and the sharp tang of metal—weapons, Thalia guessed, secured in oiled wrappings against the damp.
"Behind those," Ashe directed, pointing to a stack of grain pallets secured against the starboard hull. "If anyone comes down to check supplies, you should be hidden well enough."
Thalia nodded, already moving toward her hiding place. "When do we depart?"
"Within the half-hour. Kaine's finishing the provisions manifest, and Roran's plotting our course." Ashe's expression softened slightly, concern replacing her usual reserve. "Are you certain about this, Thalia? The consequences—"
"I've never been more certain of anything," Thalia cut in, her voice low but firm. "My family is worth any price."
Ashe studied her for a moment longer, then nodded sharply. "I'll come for you once we're safely away from the fjord."
Then she was gone, ascending the ladder with silent grace, leaving Thalia alone in the hold's velvet darkness.
Thalia made her way between stacked crates and barrels, finding the space Ashe had indicated.
She wedged herself into the narrow gap between the grain pallets and the curved hull, pulling her knees to her chest. The wood creaked around her, the ship's skeleton settling and stretching as it prepared for voyage.
Above, footsteps scuffed across the deck.
Muffled voices called to one another—Roran's easy tenor, Ashe's clipped responses, and then Kaine's deeper tones, resonant even through layers of timber.
Thalia closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds, trying to piece together their final preparations from the fragments that reached her.
"...wind from the northeast..." That was Roran, his voice rising and falling with the cadence of someone reading weather signs.
"...three days' rations, plus emergency stores..." Kaine, practical as always.
The ship shifted beneath Thalia, a gentle rocking that became more pronounced as the mooring lines were cast off.
Water slapped against the hull, a rhythmic percussion that marked their separation from land.
She felt the moment they caught the wind—a sudden tension in the timbers, a shudder that ran from stem to stern as the sails filled and the schooner leaned into its purpose.
They were underway. There could be no turning back now.
Thalia lost track of time in the hold's darkness, lulled by the ship's gentle swaying and the constant murmur of water against wood.
The pendant against her chest had quieted, its pulses less frequent now that the journey had begun.
She dozed fitfully, startling awake at each creak of the ladder or shift in the ship's motion.
The hatch opened, spilling pale light down into the hold. Thalia tensed, pressing herself deeper into her hiding place, but relaxed when she recognized Kaine's silhouette against the brightness.
"Thalia?" he called softly, descending the ladder. "It's safe to come out. We're well away from Frostforge now."
She unwound herself from her cramped position, muscles protesting after hours of stillness. "How long have I been down here?"
"Just over two hours," Kaine replied, moving between the stacked supplies toward her. "The wind's favorable. We've made good progress."
In the dim light filtering from above, his face was all planes and shadows, his eyes catching what little brightness there was. He looked tired, Thalia realized—not just from the morning's preparations, but bone-deep weary, as if he carried weights no one else could see.
"Are we clear?" she asked, stepping toward him. "No pursuit?"
Kaine shook his head. "None. The departure went smoothly. As far as Frostforge knows, it's just the three of us on a sanctioned mission."
Relief flooded through her, followed immediately by a renewed sense of the danger they faced. "And now we sail to the South."
"Yes." Kaine's voice was sober. "Thalia, I need you to understand the full scope of what we're risking. Not just court-martial if we're discovered, but death if we're captured. The Wardens show no mercy to spies."
"I know the risks," she said, but Kaine shook his head, stepping closer until she could feel the heat of him in the cool darkness.
"Do you? Because I'm not sure I do, not entirely.
" He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty from someone usually so controlled.
"We're sailing into a harbor controlled by an enemy that outnumbers us by the thousands.
Who has already conquered one of the continent's strongest ports.
Who is desperate enough that they'd rather die than reveal their plans. "
Thalia met his gaze steadily. "I know," she repeated. "And I'm still here."
Something shifted in Kaine's expression—a softening, perhaps, or a deepening. "Your family means everything to you.
The remark caught her off guard; there was an observational nature to it that she found strange. Family was... family. The foundation upon which all else was built.
"They're part of me," she said simply. "My mother, Mari—they're why I came to Frostforge in the first place. Our family couldn’t afford to bribe the recruiters twice. I volunteered to go so that Mari wouldn’t have to. So that she could live a normal life. Everything I’ve ever done was for my family. "
Kaine's smile was bitter, barely visible in the hold's dimness. "Not everyone has that," he said. "Not everyone comes from love."
Understanding dawned, and with it, a pang of sympathy. "Your family..."
"Was fractured from the beginning," he finished.
"My father was... not a kind man. Not to my mother, not to me.
My childhood was learning to dodge his fists and hide his bottles.
" The admission seemed to cost him something vital; his shoulders hunched slightly as if warding off a blow.
"As I grew older, I realized what I'd missed—what a family could be when built on love instead of fear and obligation. "
Thalia reached for his hand, finding it cold in the hold's chill. "Kaine—"
"I want to give you the chance I never had," he continued, his fingers tightening around hers. "The chance to save what matters most. Even if I don't fully understand it, I recognize its value."
The hold seemed to shrink around them, the space between their bodies charged with something Thalia couldn't name. Not desire, though that was present too, but something deeper—a recognition of broken pieces that might, somehow, fit together.
"Thank you," she whispered, the words inadequate for the gift he was giving her—not just his help on this mission, but a glimpse into the pain that had shaped him.
Kaine's free hand rose to touch her cheek, feather-light. "We'll find them," he promised. "Whatever it takes."
***
The sea air hit Thalia like a benediction as she emerged from the hold, washing away the stale darkness with its bracing clarity.
She filled her lungs with it, tasting salt and freedom and danger all at once.
The schooner cut through the waves with graceful purpose, its deck alive beneath her feet, each timber and line singing with the joy of open water.
Behind them, the pine shroud that wrapped Frostforge’s fjord was disappearing.