Page 25 of Unravelled
Tharion's lips pressed into a hard line. "We take only what we need to get home. Anything else, we leave behind. It’s not worth slowing us down."
Ren pushed off the wheel. "We can stash what we can’t carry. Mark the location and send a retrieval party later."
Tharion nodded, "We can send word ahead, have them meet us halfway."
Torvyn's shoulders relaxing slightly as he agreed, and Ren exhaled. They would make it work. As the conversation continued, the exhaustion that Mira should have felt crept in. Slow, suffocating but it wasn't just weariness pulling at her. Her choice had gotten people killed. That fact pressed against her ribs, hollowing her out from the inside.
She lowered herself to the ground against the carriage. The motion stiff and reluctant, knees drawing up slightly toward her chest. The fire’s warmth reached for her, but it couldn't thaw the ice settling under her skin. The voices around her dulled, like a storm rumbling far away. She sat with it the weight of what she’d done, the silence of those who would never speak again. Her limbs felt heavy. She let her eyes fall shut. Just for a moment.
She heard Torvyn brushing dust from his palms. “I’ll get the scouts moving. We’ll need eyes on the next pass before dawn.” His voice was low, firm, and efficient. No one argued. Mira listened as his footsteps disappeared into the darkness.
A moment later, Ren’s voice cut through the low hum of the fire. “You gave away our weapons.”
Tharion's voice remained calm. “I gave them to people who needed them more than we do.”
“We’re right alongside of hostile territory,” Ren hissed,“People died, We could’ve held our own if we’d had those arrows.” Mira’s eyes cracked open sliver.
Tharion didn’t flinch. “Anyerit would’ve been protected in the first place if someone in Bharalyn had actually assigned resources to protect them.” Silence.
Tharion sighed. “We can argue about it all night Ren, but I did what I thought was right. If that’s a problem...”
Ren’s snap could have cut through iron. “It is a problem when your version of right gets people killed.”
The hushed argument rolled on, sharp and low around her, but Mira barely heard it. The exhaustion she'd been holding at bay finally settled in, heavy and certain. She sank deeper into it, the words blurring at the edges of her mind, until they faded into something distant and harmless.
???
The market pulsed with life, a vibrant tapestry of color, scent, and sound. Silk banners of crimson and sapphire billowed overhead, casting shifting shadows over stalls brimming with sun-warmed fruit, fragrant spices and delicate trinkets that glimmered like captured starlight. The air carried the sweetness of honeyed pastries and roasted almonds, mingling with the rich, familiar scent of tanned leather and parchment.
Mira moved effortlessly through the crowd, the weight of her coin purse against her hip. Torvyn had left her to search for some specific items, muttering something about rare herbs, but she had little patience for potions and elixirs. Instead, she lingered by a stall of leather-bound books, their gold-embossed spines catching the light.
A flash caught her eye. Its edges worn, its cover softened by time. She reached for it, fingertips grazing the spine. A sudden force barrelled into her. Her breath was knocked from her chest. She gasped, tilting off balance, but before she could fall, a firm hand caught her wrist, steady and unyielding.
"Easy," a voice murmured, laced with amusement. "Wouldn’t want you falling." She spun, the beginnings of a sharp retort on her tongue, only to find him. Recognition struck her like a whispered storm. Taller than she remembered. Strength carved into every inch of him, the kind earned through battle training. His dark tunic clung to lean muscle, his belt riding low on his hips, the hilt of his sword worn smooth from use. Strands of unruly hair curled down to his jawline, but it was his eyes, green, sharp, knowing. The tournament, the way he fought as though victory had already chosen him. The fiery intensity in his gaze, each perfect strike a dance of destruction.
"You,"she breathed. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, knowing smile. "I recognized you at the tournament."
He nodded. She caught the faint, intoxicating scent of steel and cedar. "I wasn’t sure about you at first either," he admitted, voice smooth, deliberate. "You looked every bit the noble. Poised. Untouchable. Stunning" A pause, his smirk deepening. "But then I saw the way you leaned forward during the practice duels. The way you watched every strike, every dodge." Mira’s lips parted slightly. He had noticed that?
"You assume I wasn’t watching the champions. They were all so attractive," she teased, masking the way her pulse raced.
His smirk didn’t falter. "I remember you climbingtrees at twelve years old. I can't imagine you're happy sitting on the sidelines."
Her breath hitched. He remembered. For a moment, the world around them faded. The laughter, the music, the shouting of merchants, it all blurred into the background, like a painting smudged at the edges.
His expression shifted, something heavier, something unspoken settling between them she couldn't quite see.
"You were meant to give your favor to the Queen’s Champion," he murmured, the words careful, measured. "Everyone expected you to."
Mira lifted her chin, feigning indifference. "I don’t enjoy doing what people expect." Something flickered across his face, something between amusement and relief. He exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping him. There was something else there too, something he hesitated to say. He shifted on his feet, the confidence from before giving way. His throat worked as he swallowed, his green eyes searching hers, as if looking for an answer before he even spoke.
"Come with me tonight," he said, the words almost shy, almost daring.
Mira’s brow furrowed. "What?"
His fingers brushed the back of his neck, a small, nervous gesture."You didn’t have to choose me. But you did."
Her chest tightened. She could have brushed him off, could have made some witty remark, but the way he was looking at her. Like she was something he had no right to hope for but couldn’t stop himself from wanting.
