Page 32 of Unravelled
Mira shook her head and looked down, then met his eyes again. “Please.”
He hesitated, just for a breath. Then, softly, “I’ll be there.”
She released a breath she hadn’t meant to hold. “Thank you.” He glanced at the petals one last time before turning. He gave Nerra a brief nod on his way out, and was gone.
???
The ninth bell was just beginning to stir in the distance. Deep and low, a sound that rolled through the stones of the palace like a slow heartbeat. Mira stood at the rear entrance to the kitchens, half-shrouded in shadow, her hood drawn low over her face.
The door before her was old and thick, worn smooth by decades of heat. It smelled of flour, oil, and soot, even from the outside. Behind her, Tharion was silent. Still in his guard's cloak, though, his hand hovered casually, deliberately, near the hilt of his weapon.
“You sure he's here?” Tharion asked, voice low, pitched just above the breeze.
Mira hesitated, then nodded. “He wouldn’t risk sending a note if he wasn’t ready for us.” Tharion’s jaw flexed.
The final peal of the ninth bell echoed and faded. Mira raised her hand. Knocked once. The door remained closed for several heartbeats. Just as Mira reached to knock again, there was a soft scrape, metal sliding free, and the door cracked open.
Only a sliver. The warm scent of bread and herbs rushed out, strange and comforting against the night air. A single eye peered through the gap. Sharp. Familiar. Then the door opened fully.
Brahn stood at the threshold. His hair was tied back hastily, and his face was more worn than Mira remembered. No armor. No weapons. But the weight of responsibility clung to him all the same.
“He came?” Brahn askedalmost disbelieving.
“You asked for my bonded,” Mira replied.
Brahn’s mouth twitched, a half smirk. “Come in.”
He stepped aside, and Mira pulled her hood down and crossed the threshold first. Tharion followed without a word, closing the heavy door behind them. Heat poured from the hearths, and the scent of baking bread curled in the air. A few cooks worked at the far end of the preparation bench, too absorbed to notice them.
Mira glanced around. “The kitchens?”
Brahn gave a smile. “No one listens in the kitchens. Just clatter, flame and mouths to feed. Makes it the safest place in the palace to speak.”
Tharion stepped up, next to Mira. “Then say it. Why are we here?”
Brahn leaned back against the preparation bench, folding his arms.
“Because our people are being squeezed dry, by rations, by fear, by a council more interested in posturing than protection. I’ve tried diplomacy with Torvyn. I’ve tried patience. Neither buys food, or keeps the Khadrador blades off our borders.”
Mira had known things were bad, heard the murmurs in corridors, seen the guarded looks on attendants faces. But Anyerit was the truth laid bare. People were going hungry. Families were being torn apart. The council’s silence wasn’t strategy, it was neglect.
Brahn turned to her, expectant, waiting for a suggestion. For the first time, Mira saw a path forward. She wasn’t just sitting at the table as Tharion’s silent shadow, absorbing strategy and watching others lead. She had a voice, and she could use it. She could act. An old instinct to defer, to stay quiet, flickered and died. She met Brahn’s gaze. His eyes sharpened, and the faintest nod told her he was with her. Encouraging. Ready.
She drew a breath and spoke, “We need something that shakes the council into seeing the consequence of what they refuse to.”
Brahn moved past the hearths to a door tucked behind a rack of drying herbs. He opened it without a word, revealing a narrow alcove. A single small box sat in thecorner. He crouched and opened it, pulling free a thick roll of parchment, its edges worn. He brought it to the table and spread it open. A map of the region, hand-marked with inked trails, ridgelines, and trade paths.
Mira and Tharion stepped in close. Brahn tapped a thin route carved along the eastern side of the mountains.
“There’s a Khadrador supply convoy running this path. We think it’s small. Fast-moving. Carts. If they’re cutting through the Ridgelands, they’re doing it to stay out of sight.” Brahn looked between them. “I want to hit it. Clean. No bodies. Just enough damage to throw off their schedule and send a message. To them and to our council.”
Tharion studied the route. Mira leaned in, scanning the map. Her fingers hovered over the lines, the terrain shifting in her mind from ink to stone in her mind.
“They wouldn’t use the lower pass,” she murmured. “Too exposed. If they’re smart, they’ll take the spine trail and keep low.”
Brahn nodded. “That was my guess.”
She traced a bend higher up. “What about here? It bottlenecks between the hills. Steep on both sides. Sheltered from the wind. Perfect for an ambush.”
