Chapter 98 – Azaria
AZARIA
It had been days since the last of the fissures were patched up and the remainder of Torven’s men were hunted down.
A momentary reprieve—that’s all it was, and we all knew it.
Recovery teams were out in the villages still reeling from the Abyss, armed with light magic artifacts, sweeping the fields and homes, burning out the rot wherever they found it.
The dead were buried. Compensation payments made to families who’d lost everything.
It didn’t bring anyone back. It didn’t rebuild a single home.
Torven himself had vanished. He hadn’t fallen in the fighting, but neither had he been found at any of the sites where skirmishes erupted. The bastard had slipped straight through the cracks he’d made. No word, no sign.
Veshar, Rylen, and Torik had taken squads to patrol the eastern borders, searching for any hint of Dravareth’s next move, hunting for shadows that might point the way. The tension hadn’t broken—it had settled, quiet and patient, waiting for something none of us could name. All of us felt it.
Still, that hadn’t stopped my squad from teasing and playing games. We all knew the risks—what good was pausing our lives to wait for the sky to fall? We clung to routine. We filled the silence with laughter, because the alternative was waiting for doom in quiet.
I made my way back to the common room and paused outside the door.
Evening had settled in, softening the mood inside.
We’d been spending more time in the palace lately, passing hours with slow conversations and old habits—waiting, if we were honest, for news we didn’t want to hear.
Tywin had his scouts and spies scattered across the continent, searching for answers and warning us to stay inside the palace wards.
If Dravareth could use dimensional traps, then none of us were truly safe out there.
Nothing had happened since me and Dain had fallen into one, but the threat still lingered.
What was Torven waiting for?
I finally slipped inside.
Kael sat on the sofa, cards fanned in his hands, feet up, posture so relaxed it bordered on theatrical. Reyna was stretched across his lap, head pillowed on his thigh, fingers idly tugging at his sleeve. His free hand rested lightly on her hip.
To my left, Lirael and Thorne sat close enough that their shoulders touched, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his thigh while his arm rested loosely around her.
They had finally stopped pretending there was nothing between them, and the affection that passed between them now was quiet and easy.
Zeph had claimed the armchair nearby, with Lyra lingering just behind him until he said something that made her laugh under her breath.
He looked up at her with that familiar grin, then reached back and tugged her down beside him.
She blushed scarlet but didn’t pull away.
I’d noticed it more and more lately—the whispered conversations in corridors, the way they stood too close, the accidental brushes of hands that no longer seemed accidental at all. It was new. Tentative. Sweet.
Elias sat next to Dain at the desk, book in his hands, eyes flickering between the page and the rest of us—always present, always quietly seeing more than he said.
Kalias lingered by the window, arms folded, gaze sweeping the room in careful arcs. He watched everyone, never missing a shift in the air. He looked, sometimes, like a man half outside the world, always searching for threats the rest of us might miss.
Quin was in the other armchair, boots abandoned, long legs stretched toward the fire.
He’d been reading, but as soon as I entered, he glanced up and set the book aside, reaching for my hand.
His thumb circled the inside of my wrist—a touch that had started as habit but now felt like a promise.
He pulled me gently closer, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pressed a kiss to my stomach.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, eyes closing briefly.
Quin loosened his grip, and I crossed the room to slip my arms around Dain’s neck, hugging him from behind.
He leaned back into the touch, squeezing my hands in his, with that rare, unguarded softness in his eyes.
I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, letting him feel, for a heartbeat, that he didn’t have to carry the world alone.
Next, I leaned over to Elias, who looked up with a half-grin. I ruffled his hair and dropped a kiss on his crown. Elias laughed, feigning outrage. “Careful, Captain. You’ll spoil my concentration. I might start reading upside down.”
I smiled.
I left my hand on Elias’s shoulder, his warmth grounding, then let my free hand drift outward, palm up.
Kalias met my eyes from across the room and, after a brief pause, crossed to take my hand in his.
His grip was steady and warm, and for a heartbeat, he squeezed my fingers in return before letting go.
I drifted back to Quin, settling onto the arm of his chair. His hand found my waist immediately, thumb tracing idle circles against my hip.
The fire snapped in the grate. Lyra and Zeph began arguing over the rules of the card game, Lyra’s quiet voice surprisingly firm as she corrected Zeph’s bluster. Kael feigned shock, Reyna snickered, and the easy banter rolled on.
For one quiet moment, I watched them.
Reyna, without looking up from Kael’s lap, called out. “So what about the festival? Are we going, or are we pretending we’re above it?”
Kael grinned. “If you’re looking for a reason to wear your ridiculous festival hat, say so.”
“It’s a crown,” Reyna said loftily. “And the city expects me to look the part.”
Lirael nudged Thorne. “I think it would do us good. Everyone’s been wound so tight lately.”
Zeph perked up immediately. “I vote yes. Gods, we could use a night of fun.”
But Thorne’s voice was calm, heavy. “What if Dravareth plans something?”
I glanced at Dain. He caught my look, then shrugged. “I doubt they’d try anything in broad daylight, with crowds and all those wards around the square. But I agree with Lirael. It would do us good.”
Quin squeezed my waist, murmuring low, “We can keep an eye on things. Worse comes to worst, we’re together, and we’ll see trouble coming.”
I nodded. “We’ll go, then. All of us. We keep close, watch for anything unusual, and if anything feels off, we leave—no arguments.”
Kael flashed a wicked grin. “And if nothing happens, we eat, drink, and make fools of ourselves. I like these odds.”
Reyna groaned. “I’m not pulling you out of a fountain again.”
Zeph waggled his eyebrows. “No promises.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the room, the tension easing by a fraction. I looked around at all of them, faces bright in firelight. Maybe tonight we could be reckless.
The River Market exploded with color and noise.
Every inch of space was crowded with lanterns and ribbons, rainbow banners fluttering above our heads.
Stalls spilled down both banks—grills sizzling, fat spitting over coals, the air thick with wood smoke, roasted meats, and the sweetness of pastries cooling on wire racks. The scent made my head spin.
I’d abandoned all restraint. I made my way down the row of pastry stalls, sampling everything: honeyed fritters, plum tarts, little folded buns stuffed with spiced apple, while sipping a ginger and lemon ale between bites. The sharpness cleansed my palate for the next round.
The rest of my squad wove loosely around me, all half-lost in festival chaos, their laughter blending with the music drifting up from the river’s edge.
Lirael was openly holding Thorne’s hand, walking quietly ahead.
Zeph and Lyra trailed not far behind, trying to look casual, but I saw Lyra reaching for Zeph’s arm more than once, and each time he smiled, proud as a peacock.
My own hand was wrapped tight in Quin’s.
He didn’t let go except to pluck a pastry from my palm or wipe powdered sugar from my lips, the warmth of his grip grounding me amid the surge of bodies.
Every so often, he’d lean down and murmur something wicked in my ear.
I’d laugh, forgetting everything beyond the square.
Kalias had shifted for the evening, padding alongside as a wolf to the eternal delight of the local children.
They ran circles around him, shrieking with laughter, clambering up to tug at his ears or beg for a ride.
Kalias endured it with patient huffs, letting them drape ribbons around his neck and bury their faces in his fur.
His eye met mine once, and he huffed, long-suffering but content.
A silver wolf covered in colorful ribbons—the sight was priceless.
Eventually, we reached the games row—dice and card tables, ring toss, darts, and archery. I would have kept walking, content with sugar on my tongue, but Zeph just couldn’t help himself.
He sidled up to me, eyes gleaming with cider-fueled bravado. “Come on, Captain. You versus me. Winner’s choice of forfeit.”
Quin chuckled wickedly before I could answer. “You don’t want to do that, Zeph. Trust me.”
Kael shook his head, cards still in hand. “Quin’s right. Don’t be an idiot. She’ll destroy you.”
Zeph puffed out his chest, grinning like a fox. “You’re all jealous. I say—if I lose, I’ll walk through the common room naked as a babe. If I win… our lovely Captain does.”
I sighed. “Fine. You go first, Zeph. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He snatched up the bow and lined up for three shots. The ringmaster cleared the area and gave a signal. Zeph fired—first arrow, off center. Not bad. Second—almost a bullseye. Third—dead on, and he turned, cocky as ever, soaking up the applause. “Not bad, right?”
I nodded, lips twitching. “Not bad at all, Zeph.”
He strutted, all swagger and mischief. “Your turn, Captain.”
I took my time.
I planted my feet first, feeling for balance, letting my weight settle the way it always did.
Then I reached over my shoulder, drew an arrow from the quiver, and nocked it in one smooth motion.
My bow came up slowly, not rushed, the string drawing back as I breathed in.
I held for a heartbeat, then let the breath leave me as I loosed.
Bullseye.
A low cheer rolled through the crowd.
I reached for the second arrow the same way—over my shoulder, nock, lift, draw. No hurry. No wasted movement. By now the noise around me had started to blur at the edges, the world narrowing to the target and the line between us. I filled my lungs, steadied, and released on the exhale.
The second shaft split the first.
The cheer this time was louder, edged with surprise. I could feel the shift in the range now. The laughter had faded. Even the air seemed tighter. Across from me, Zeph’s bravado was starting to fray.
I reached for the third arrow. Set my stance again. Drew the bow up and back, the string taut against my fingers, breath calm and even. The ritual never changed. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
I loosed.
The third arrow drove straight through the first two, burying itself dead center.
The range went silent.
Kael was the first to recover. He clapped Zeph on the back, shaking his head. “Told you. You never listen.”
Reyna’s grin was merciless. “Hope you’re not shy, Zeph.”
Zeph tried to save face, but he was already blushing furiously. “Right, hang on—how was I supposed to know the Captain’s a genius with a bow? You could’ve warned me!”
“We did,” Kael and Quin deadpanned in unison.
“Well, the details of the bet were not clear. I will wear?—“
“Not a chance,” I cut in, relishing every second. “Naked as the day you were born, or it doesn’t count.”
Zeph groaned. “So how come you’re a master archer, and we never knew about this?”
“Some of us knew,” Kael said, cackling.
I smiled. “I held the title of ’Bowkeeper of the Serathen Academy.’”
Zeph threw his arms up. “What does that even mean?”
Quin obliged: “It means those who achieved perfect scores in both precision and composure while wielding a bow. Azaria was the top archery student for years.”
“Finally got what you deserved,” Thorne said, sipping his dark ale.
There was laughter, cheers, a chorus of “Zeph! Zeph!” from a few nearby festival-goers who had no idea what they were volunteering him for.
As I handed the bow back to the stall keeper, I passed Lyra, who stood wide-eyed and scarlet at the edge of the crowd. I leaned in, dropped my voice low, and said with a wink, “You’re welcome.”
Her cheeks went crimson, and I saw Zeph’s proud grin falter into a look of pure, lovesick panic.
“I can’t decide if that was genius or cruel,” Quin murmured into my ear, nipping my neck. “But you may have broken my sister.”
“She’ll thank me later.”
I nursed my ginger and lemon ale as I wandered, determined to taste every pastry the market had to offer. Cinnamon clung to my fingers; icing dusted my lips. Quin squeezed my hand, grinning as he watched me swipe a sticky roll from a nearby stall.
“You’ll make yourself ill if you eat that much sugar,” he teased, voice low beside my ear.
I licked honey from my thumb and shot him a defiant look. “Absolutely worth it.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I suppose I’ll have to carry you home when you pass out from a pastry coma.”
“Make sure you grab another cinnamon roll for me on the way,” I said, flashing him a grin.
He bumped his shoulder against mine, warmth in his eyes that made my chest ache.
We ended the night on the riverbank, sitting in a tight circle—a clustered pile of bodies and warmth and teasing, watching the fireworks.
We could have this much. Tonight, at least.