65. Chapter 65
R en felt the familiar weight of Ashrend strapped to her thigh as she strode through the morning market of Pyraelia.
The crowd parted without a word. Maybe they felt the edge of her resolve in the air, or maybe it was the sword that kept them at bay. Either way, they kept their distance.
And why shouldn’t they? She was on a mission.
Talen’s words rang in her mind like a curse she couldn’t outrun. “Our last creature to hunt.” His tone had been flat, resigned. He had held up the coin purse then, leather heavy with gold. “And then we’re done with our arrangement.”
Done. As though everything they had fought together, bled together, had been nothing but a bargain struck and soon to expire.
Ren turned a corner, weaving past the chocolate district, where bakers were already setting out their stalls. Fresh bread lined the counters.
Her gaze snagged on the loaves of bread.
That was how she’d ended up here in the first place, when she’d punched a fae soldier square in the nose for nearly sentencing a malnourished boy to death over a loaf of bread.
A child who had looked at her with wide, hollow eyes and was on the brink of starvation.
“It’s been an honor to fight alongside you,” she had told Talen .
He’d given her that sharp, assessing look of his. “You did House Vaelaran a great service in aiding us in defeating the creatures.”
She remembered waiting, holding her breath as if the silence between them might transform into something more. Into an offer. A tether. Something. But he’d only tucked away the coin purse and murmured, “Thank you, Ren.”
The words had landed like an axe blow.
Talen hadn’t offered her permanence. No place here in Pyraelia. No role to keep her anchored when all this was done. What about the threat of the undead? Maelion mentioned finding her more permanent work.
As Ren’s gaze swept over the bustling market, seeing the patchwork of voices and faces, fae and humans mingling, art displayed in riotous color, spices thick in the air, she realized she wanted to stay. Saints help her, she liked the chaos, the beauty.
And, gods above, a certain fae princess who had carved herself into Ren’s thoughts like a blade into stone.
She didn’t want to leave.
Maybe when she collected her coin, she’d find a place to rent. Somewhere small, just enough to claim as her own until she figured out what came next. Maybe she could get a permanent role in the king’s royal army to help defeat the undead.
Her thoughts tumbled away as the forge loomed ahead, alive with the roar of fire and the ring of hammer on steel. A fae male was bent over the anvil, sweat glistening on his brow as he shaped a glowing piece of gold. Sparks danced like fireflies, bursting in the dim morning haze.
Ren approached, her voice raised over the clamor. “Is Elira here?”
The male glanced at her, grunted, then went back to his work. “Her shift doesn’t start until noon.”
Ren’s shoulders slumped, disappointment punching harder than she expected. She’d hoped to see Elira before leaving on this mission – maybe share a drink, even a word of farewell. Something to ease the gnawing tightness in her chest. But she couldn’t wait hours.
She turned to go when the fae tossed aside his tool with a clang and wiped his meaty hands on his leather apron. “You a friend of hers?”
Ren didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
He leaned against a wooden post, arms crossing over his broad chest. “She’s a great blacksmith. One of the best I’ve seen in years. ”
“I know.”
“Nearly turned her away when she showed up out of nowhere. But she spotted flaws in my workers’ process right off and offered better. Took her in on the spot after that.”
Pride warmed Ren’s chest. “Her master must have been remarkable.”
The fae frowned, shaking his head. “Wish I knew who they were. She didn’t mention a master.”
“She didn’t show you her letter of recommendation when making her introduction?”
“No. She had no letter. Just her word.”
That wasn’t right. On their journey together, Elira had told her plainly she was bound for the capital with a letter of recommendation to present. That it was her reason for traveling.
“But with her,” the fae said, oblivious to Ren’s spiraling thoughts, “she’s one I’d keep in my forge as long as she’ll stay.”
“I’ll bet,” Ren muttered.
The clang of the forge hammered through Ren’s skull as she wandered away, the question gnawing like teeth at her ribs.
Why would Elira lie to her?
Ren wove back into the market’s bustle, but her thoughts refused to quiet.
Maybe Elira had something else going on in her life, something she hadn’t trusted Ren with yet.
When they first met, they were little more than strangers thrown together by circumstance.
Two women sharing a road, with the threat of death at their heels.
In a world like this, trust wasn’t given; it was earned slowly, painfully, and sometimes never at all.
Ren knew that better than most. She’d spent too long in pits where a smile could be a lie and a kind word was often just bait for betrayal. Even now, part of her whispered she was a fool to care, to even wonder.
But Elira didn’t seem like the others. She carried her own shadows, yes, but she’d laughed when the nights were dark and hopeless. That had to mean something. Didn’t it?
Ren exhaled hard, dragging a hand over her face. She could tear herself apart with suspicion, or she could wait and ask Elira herself.
Yes.
After this last mission, when the coin was in hand and the creatures behind them, she’d corner Elira over a few drinks. Look her in the eye, and if there were lies hiding behind that easy grin, she’d drag them into the light.
For now, though, Ren pushed the thoughts aside. The time for questions would come.
But first, there was a beast to slay.