20. Aryn #3
The humor fades from Thulga’s eyes. “Best not to tempt the Fates then.”
“What of raiders and rebel bands?” I ask.
She nods absently toward the windows. “That group I mentioned… they’re still around. Call themselves the Viskari. They think overthrowing the Vaelor is the only way to make this place like it used to be. Rubbish, in my opinion.”
“They attack?” I ask, glancing sideways at Cato.
“Sure. Robbers, the lot of them.”
“Thieves,” Grimhild mutters from her side, and I remember the way he accused us of the same when they found us on their lands.
Thulga nods solemnly. “They go after travelers, mostly. Loot wagons and steal wares. It’s why merchants don’t venture this far down anymore… why we can’t take much to market. Too dangerous.”
“Do they have a settlement?” Ronan asks.
“No,” Thulga says with a shake of her head.
“They live in camps in the woods all over Elyra. If you ask me, they can’t behave long enough to form any sort of community.
” Her gaze moves over us and the weapons strapped to our waists.
“You lot look like you can handle yourselves, but they’re ruthless. Be careful.”
“We will be,” Ronan and I say at the same time.
He glances at me with a nod before turning back to her. “The cities, though? The capital is safe?”
“It is, and friendly to all. Grimhild and I haven’t visited in decades. The noise is too much, sure. But Mezie rides up with a group of friends once a year for the music festival.”
My spoon halts halfway to my mouth. “Music festival?”
“Oh yes. They call it something artistic. Veilfire or Starfall or something like that. It’s been a tradition for twenty… maybe thirty turns now. An entire week of it. I’m positive my ears would give out by the end.”
Ronan and I meet eyes across the table, both of us unable to hide our surprise.
Neither of us were alive before Zadeus’s reign, but even from the old stories I’ve read, there was never time for such frivolities.
It’s a good sign, though neither of us is willing to risk jinxing it by saying so out loud.
Small talk continues as we eat, and we learn that the village we were told about is friendly to travelers—including humans.
We don’t have coin, but we have things we could trade.
Thulga lights up at the mention and declares that tomorrow, after we’ve rested, she’d love to look through what we’re willing to part with.
After dinner, we carry our packs down a long hallway and into a different wing.
“Worker’s quarters,” Thulga explains. “Back when the farm was more productive, we had a house full of farmhands and seasonal help. Now it’s mostly just Mezie full time, though his friends come to help during the harvest. The beds might be a little dusty, but I’d wager they’re more comfortable than the ground. ”
“We are grateful for your hospitality,” I tell her sincerely. “If there’s anything we can do to repay it, please ask.”
She pauses, glancing over the group before nodding.
“There may be a few chores I could use a hand with, but those discussions can wait until tomorrow.” We stop at the end of the hallway, with four doors in a row along one wall and a single door opposite.
“Mezie’s room is at the end, but these three are empty.
The washroom is across the hall. There are two showers, two separate waste rooms, and a washing basin hooked up to the well.
It’s too cold to hang clothes outside anymore, so we have lines set up inside the washroom.
Takes a little longer, but it does the trick. ”
She pushes open the door to show us, and Cameron releases a loud groan at the pipes. “Are those showers?”
“They are, mo’sziv,” Ronan answers with a chuckle.
Thulga’s eyes dart between the two of them at the pet name, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “I suppose I know who will bunk together.”
Ronan winces and flashes her a smile that’s almost shy. “Cameron is my shaelin.”
The word presses on an old wound deep inside my chest—one that’s scarred over but still aches when the memories strike just right.
Shaelin are the closest concept to spouses on this side.
They’re life partners, bound to one another and recognized under the law as a unit. It’s a vow not taken lightly.
Thulga’s expression softens as she glances at the rest of us, eyes questioning. Ronan gestures between Lillith and Taryn with a nod. “They are shaelin as well.”
“Well, that settles that then, I suppose,” Thulga says with a chuckle as she glances between me and Cato. “Looks like the two of you are left bunking.”
“Looks that way,” I answer as stoically as I can manage.
Curiosity wins out as I twist the knob on the last bedroom and push the door open.
Moonlight spills across the tidy room. There isn’t much inside—a small table with two chairs beside the window and a large armoire against the same wall.
My gaze drifts over the two side tables already equipped with lanterns, and I swallow roughly as I finally let myself look at the single bed.