25. Lora #2
We spent another day on foot through the Moon Queendom and eventually found a small village along the river.
With no nuggets in our pouches, we couldn’t afford rooms or supplies, but at least we received directions to Brookfalls.
We slept beneath the stars, then trudged on, surviving on fish I caught in the river and Erion’s knowledge of edible plants.
Sometimes I sensed his gaze lingering on me, but as soon as I glanced his way, his eyes darted off.
Silence stretched between us as we trudged alongside the river, keeping just far enough from the water to stay hidden behind the tree line.
My mind kept circling back to the battle with the pirates. Particularly the moment the prince had trapped me with my back pressed flush against his chest. The image floated together with the ones from my dream. I rubbed my shoulder, trying to scrub away the ghost of his touch.
My skin tingled and my pulse quickened just from the thought of his warm breath against my ear and his arm locked possessively around me.
It meant nothing. He’d manhandled me like I was something fragile, that’s what made my blood boil. The flush climbing my neck was fury. Pure hatred. That’s all it was.
A flutter deep in my belly whispered otherwise, but I shoved that treacherous feeling aside, pushing all thoughts of him from my mind.
But that only left room for other intrusive thoughts to flood in. The massacre. The deaths of our friends. Those three surviving moon guards I’d left behind.
Part of me clung to the hope that we’d find them in Brookfalls. Maybe they’d pressed on in search of us. With their boats, they might have arrived ahead of us. But more likely, they’d turned back toward Six River City, carrying news of the attack and our disappearance to the Queen’s council.
Unless the pirates had decided to kill them.
No, I couldn’t think like that. I’d insisted on going through Blightlands, then abandoned them when I whisked Erion away. The prickling guilt of having caused their deaths squeezed around my ribs, stealing the air from my lungs.
By evening, a town finally emerged through the trees. Brookfalls sprawled across both banks of a swift river, connected by several bridges. Water cascaded in a series of small falls, splitting near the edge of town into two branching channels.
I asked a passing townswoman about Caldera, earning a curious stare and directions to the very last house on the outskirts of town.
As we followed the river along one of the forks, the town center gave way to family homes spaced farther and farther apart. Just as I thought we’d reached the last house, I spotted another, a stone’s throw ahead.
The cottage perched at the edge of a steep slope, where the river launched itself into the valley below in a thundering cascade.
A surprisingly well-kept garden sprawled around the house, with neat rows of vegetables and flowers climbing wooden trellises.
A small patio with weathered chairs faced the roaring river’s misty spray.
My knuckles rapped against the door, and footsteps shuffled inside.
The door swung open to reveal a plump woman with soft features. Black hair streaked with silver framed her face, tied back in a simple braid. She wore plain clothing in muted blues and grays, colors favored in the Moon Queendom.
“Yes?” Kind eyes studied us as her lips broke into a welcoming smile, crinkling the corners of her eyes.
Calm. Patient. Non-threatening.
Not at all the cruel-faced traitor I’d imagined.
I raised a brow. “Are you Caldera?”
“I am.” Her voice matched her appearance—gentle and unassuming. “How can I help you?”
Frustration flared through me. A kind demeanor didn’t equal a good heart. She was a brine-hearted sun wielder.
“I’m Lora. This is Erion.” My eyes narrowed. “The Dual Wielder. He’s here to receive his training in sun wielding.”
Caldera’s eyebrows shot up. Her gaze darted past us, scanning the path behind us before ushering us inside.
She pressed her back against the door, offering an apologetic glance. “Sorry for the dramatics. But please, don’t speak of the nature of your visit where someone might overhear. People can’t know what I am.”
Bitterness curled through my chest at the audacity of a sun wielder hiding safely in our territory while my mother rotted in the ground because of them.
“But where’s the rest of you?” Caldera glanced between us. “The message from the Queen said you’d arrive with guards.”
My shoulders sagged as all hope of finding the surviving guards here evaporated.
“And a moon master,” she continued, her skeptical gaze raking over me. “Are you—”
“It’s complicated,” I grunted.
Erion’s stomach rumbled loudly. He huffed an awkward laugh. “We can explain everything, but… you don’t happen to have something to eat, do you?”
A candlemark later, the warmth of fresh bread and vegetable stew settled in my belly—our first proper meal since we’d ventured into Blightlands over a week ago.
Caldera’s expression shifted from concern to alarm as our tale unfolded. Steam curled from our cups of tea as we finished recounting the disastrous journey.
Her home wrapped around us in cozy simplicity.
The main room served as kitchen and living space, dominated by the sturdy wooden table where we sat.
A stone hearth occupied one corner, still radiating heat from where she’d warmed our meal.
Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with clay pots, mismatched dishes, and bundled herbs hung to dry.
A worn armchair faced the window overlooking the waterfall, with a basket of mending beside it.
Erion set down his teacup, his burnished brown hair threaded with light from the window. “We should send word to the Queen’s council. They need to know what happened. Maybe they can send help to the surviving moon guards in Blightlands.” His voice tightened. “They must’ve gotten lost out there.”
My chest clenched at how his hopes mirrored my own. Things between us might’ve been strained, but Erion had a kind heart.
Caldera leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “I’ll head to the town’s moon seer and send word to Six River City. In the meantime, you two can freshen up in the river and rest a while. I’ll set up two sleeping pallets in my workshop.”