Page 4 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

Sebastian nodded. “There’s a place I know of in the western mountains. I stayed there once before.”

When Ronan’s full weight hit the chair, it sharply tilted back and to the left, one leg shorter than the others. He scowled but didn’t bother moving. The other seat wouldn’t be any better. This furniture had not been crafted for a man of his size. Then again, this entire room was an afterthought. A way for the shop owner downstairs to make some extra coin. It was never intended to be used as a full-time dwelling.

With a slight jolt, Ronan realized this was likely the last night he’d spend in what had become a safe haven. Surely Erebos would expect his Champion to reside in the palace where he could keep an eye on his comings and goings. The only upside of the move was that he’d be closer to Shadow.

Completely unaware that Ronan’s attention had wandered, Bast had continued prattling on. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to require any sort of response. He was like this sometimes, not really seeking conversation as much as an audience to talk at. Sebastian Villehardouin, one man show.

Ronan’s lips quirked up. He was going to miss the windbag.

“Anyway, Brillergarde should be safe enough until we can make arrangements to get Loren back home.”

Realizing this was his cue, Ronan prompted, “And home is?”

“Knightsgrave,” Loren answered, standing and hefting the now full bag over his shoulder.

While still not entirely familiar with Empyria’s layout, Ronan knew Knightsgrave to be in the south, protected in large part by a treacherous mountain range known as The Crags, which ran diagonally through most of the continent. To cross them would likely require a guide familiar with the dangerous terrain. From the bits of gossip Ronan overheard in the marketplace, most travelers opted to go around through Brillergarde or Darkhollow—the neighboring realms—where passage was more forgiving. Except for those few brave souls who preferred to travel by sea along the southeastern coast.

Realizing the journey ahead of them was long, Ronan appreciated their choice to remain in town a bit longer and ensure they’d have what they’d need in the days to come.

Letting out a soft grunt that wasn’t so much approval as acknowledgment, Ronan returned his attention to Sebastian, who was still wearing his bloodstained clothes from earlier. Through the torn bits of fabric he could make out smooth, unmarred skin, meaning the men must have stopped by a healer on their way here.

“I must say you’re looking well, considering the state you were in when I saw you last.”

“Well? I wouldn’t go as far as that. A little less holey, perhaps,” Bast said with a smirk.

Ronan shook his head at the terrible pun, but there was no denying the relief he felt seeing the other man back on his feet and up to his usual antics. He was no stranger to the horrors of battle, but one never truly rid themselves of the ghosts of their fallen comrades. He was thankful he wouldn’t have to count Bast among them.

“I’m just lucky Loren has a few contacts in town,” Sebastian continued. “They had me patched up in no time.”

“Perks of the job,” Loren said with a self-indulgent smile. “Any hero worth his headlines has a healer in every port.”

“I’m sure healers aren’t the only thing you have in every port.” Bast’s voice had a knowing lilt.

“Like I said, perks.”

They laughed, seeming far more comfortable with each other than a pair who’d only been introduced a few nights prior. Ronan wouldn’t presume to know what existed between them, but he’d never forget Loren’s genuine panic when he’d seen Bast’s wounds. Whatever happened in the days to come, he knew Sebastian would be in good hands.

The room lapsed into comfortable silence. There was only one thing left to do, but no one seemed in any hurry to do it.

Realizing it was up to him, Ronan stood and said, “I guess this is where we part ways.”

Bast’s smile slipped. “I guess so.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, the same as he had the night they’d first met. “It’s been a privilege to know you, Ronan. I hope our paths cross again one day.”

Ronan glanced at the offering and mutely shook his head. With a little sigh, Bast started to step away, but Ronan grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in, giving him a tight one-armed hug. Sebastian was too surprised to react, his body rigid in Ronan’s hold. After a second, Ronan cleared his throat and slapped him roughly on the back. “Safe travels, Bast. May the Mother watch over and guide you.”

There was a soft hitch as Sebastian’s breath caught before he returned Ronan’s embrace, squeezing tightly. “We both know the journey you've begun is far more deadly than the one I'm about to embark on.”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” Loren said, drawing both men’s attention as they released each other. “There's been some rumors flying around about your Shadow.”

“MyShadow?” Ronan asked, trying for casual but knowing he failed.

Bast shook his head and laughed. “You fool no one but yourself, Ronan.”

“What do you know?” he asked Loren, ignoring Bast’s remark.

“It’s okay. Ronan knows not to shoot the messenger. Tell him what you told me,” Bast said, giving Ronan a look that told him in no uncertain terms to behave.

“Erebos intends to marry Shadow. A wedding is already in the works.”

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