Physical recovery training was a nightmare, and doing it while trekking across the ti? Even worse.

  Burn couldn't help but watch as Momo, day after day, wrestled with her own limbs like they were rebellious teenagers, all while being miserly with the precious Forergy he graciously shared with her.

  Speaking of sharing, let’s talk about their method—kissing. Yes, the life-saving magic of a smooch. It was their only option for noarently.

  Fet about magids or ented potions; it was all about the power of a good pucker. Besides the obvious physical buzz and the cocktail of hormones zipping around, there was nothing else to write home about.

  Man, or 'Momo' as she preferred, seemed ued by any deep psychological ges from this.

  No suddeions about life, ential crises following their lip-locked moments. Nope, just straightforward, ns-attached, energy-transferring kisses.

  In essehe whole thing was as transaal as buying bread from a store—except maybe a tad more intimate and with slightly higher stakes.

  But Burn… well.

  He was tired of it.

  Not only did he have to portion out his Force to give her, he had to be that intimate with the woman who had ruined his life. If only she wasn’t as irritatingly beautiful.

  “From here, we’ll swity chariot.”

  After they passed the border of Wintersin, it would be easier for them to ride the chariot sihey didn’t o be too spicuous.

  Momo was standing with her krembling when she waited alo the edge of the road for Burn to pick her up. He said it wouldn’t take long.

  He didn’t take long indeed.

  WHIIRRR!

  “Woah.”

  Burn’s chariot wasn’t just a ride; it was a rolling paradox from the future, courtesy of the outsiders. Now, in the spirit of "if you ’t beat them, join them," they offered up this high-tech hot rod as a peace .

  Picture this: the chariot itself, fed from an alloy that probably had a name lohan a royal wedding guest list.

  This wasn’t just aal; it shimmered with a pretentious iridesce that screamed, "Look at me, I’m not from around here."

  Traditional wheels? Please. That’s so st millennium. Instead, this toy floated on anti-gravity modules that hummed like an overcaffeinated bee, subtly reminding everyone just how advahey were.

  At the front, instead of the cssic, reliable horse, were two meical griffins, because why use living creatures when you have cold, hard steel mimig life?

  These griffins looked like they’d been designed by someone who had only had mythical creatures described to them in a fever dream. The energy duits ihem glowed with a power that robably capable of jump-starting a dead p.

  Ihe chariot was as minimal as a hipster’s loft. O, because who needs friends when you have fusion power? This seat was the kind of thing that would make ergonomic chairs weep in inadequacy.

  The trols were also an impressive series of holograms that respoo hand waves like an overly eager stage magi. No reins, because we’re too cool for old school.

  Kinda.

  “I slept for three years, huh?” Momo muttered.

  “e on in.”

  “Where I sit?”

  “Here,” Burn poi his p after he spread his legs. There was a bit of space there.

  “My butt is not that small!” an angry vein popped in Momo’s forehead.

  “I know,” Burn said ftly. “So just put it between my p. There’s still space for the rest of your body.”

  Silence.

  The two looked at each other, both annoyed.

  “I know you didn’t want this either. Excuse me, then,” Momo aowledged, aware that her selfisho find Yvain immediately had left Burn without the opportunity te a more suitable vehicle for their journey.

  It's important to remember that they were traveling uhe radar and as swiftly as possible.

  Had stealth not been necessary, Burn might have opted for a rger chariot, not this one he already had. Simirly, if speed hadn't been a priority, he could have included her in the mert-ssh-spy caravan he also used on his infiltration into Wintersin.

  He was able to move fast despite using the spice mert caravan before because he was alone. But now, he had a heavy baggage.

  PLOP.

  Huh. She’s not that heavy, actually.

  She was tall. Around 5’8. But this… “100 lbs…”

  “Will you be able to survive…?”

  “Why? I’ve put up more weight since I woke up a couple of days ago.”

  “You’d die if this thing stumbled on a pebble.”

  “I’m not that fragile.”

  “Where’s all that Force I gave you? Are you actually wasting it?”

  POOF!

  They quarreled so much that it made them move too mud now, a certain part of a certain person's body was squashing oher person’s personal space.

  “So it went here,” Burn muttered irritatedly as his cheek was smothered by the woman’s breast. "The Force has been strong with this one. Ah, I meawo."

  Surely, after that, Momo was seen giving him a disgusted look all the way.

  Thankfully, they only need 24 hours in that chariot before arriving at Edensor.

  ***

  Oskirts of the cmor and g of a battlefield that looked like a medieval rendition of a bad day at the stock exge, stood the boy king Yvain.

  Perched atop his war chariot like a fal ready to dive, he was surrounded by a flock of generals and aides, each decked out in enough armor to sink a small ship.

  With war maes whirring around him, and prote spells and teologies surrounding him, not to mention being merely 12, Yvain had the demeanor of someone who had biched the ey of human histiving off an air of premature world-weariness.

  As the front lines engaged in their chaotice of steel, sers and shouts—a performahat might have been chraphed by a drunkard swinging at bees—Yvain was engrossed in a report.

  His eyes darted across the part. His brow, barely enough years on it to be furrowed, was knit tighter than a miser’s purse strings.

  Finally, he lowered the report, and the look on his face could curdle milk. It was too grim an expression for such a young monarch.

  With a sigh that suggested he was carrying the weight of the world rather than just his feather-light , he asked the people around him, “Has His Majesty Burn not sent any word yet?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  Yvain lifted his gaze toward the battlefield ahead. With a deliberate motion, he hahe reports back to one of his aides and instructed, “Return these and ehey are given to His Majesty upon his return.”

  “At your and, Sir.”

  “My master… Burn has been gohis long without sending a message. Perhaps he has not yet found her.”

  Yvaiioned several locations his master often visited, primarily in the northern hemisphere, suggesting that Burn might still be searg there.

  The boy king narrowed his eyes toward the dire of Elysian’s Capital.

  “For now, then, I must mahis myself.”