“Thank you for your patronage, sir!” the merchant chirped as Lucian walked away, a red pendant in his hand and a bag of soulstones closing at his side.

  He made his way back to the inn. The moment he opened the door, Amira was there.

  Without a word, she leaned in close, pressing her face to his chest. Her nose traced slowly up and down his torso as she breathed him in, crimson eyes flicking up at him.

  “What are you doing?” Lucian asked, standing perfectly still, unsettled by her strange demeanor.

  “Checking to see if you meet a…” she hesitated, then forced a light laugh. “Food. Just smelling for food, haha.”

  Satisfied, she spun on her heel and plopped onto the edge of the bed.

  “So,” she said with a small smile, “get what you went out for?”

  Lucian tossed the bag of soulstones beside her. It landed with a crunch, the flap opening enough for a few coins to spill out.

  “Getting rid of one more thing that could get you noticed by whoever you’re hiding from.”

  Amira smirked, tilting her head in teasing disbelief. “Are you sure you did that for me…” She rose and walked toward him slowly. “Or did you do it for yourself? Feels like you’re running from something too.”

  Lucian raised a brow. “I don’t run from anything. Not even the entire demon army.”

  Amira burst out laughing, clutching her stomach.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded, thinking she mocked him.

  “I believe you!” she said between laughs. “But you’re already breaking one of my two rules.”

  Lucian’s face colored. “I—I haven’t looked at you that way at all recently, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw tightened, voice stiff with denial.

  “Not that.” Amira giggled, making a mocking face. “You were brooding.”

  Lucian rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “I’m going to sleep. Long ride to the border tomorrow.”

  He moved the sack of soulstones to the table, pulled back the tightly tucked sheets, and fluffed his pillow,

  then froze.

  ‘There’s only one bed. That infuriating woman! I told her to get a room with two.’

  Amira stood with her hands clasped behind her back, batting her eyes innocently, her expression screaming guilty.

  Clicking his tongue, Lucian snatched a pillow and blanket, laying them out on the floor. He had slept in far worse places during the war. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that Amira had arranged this on purpose.

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  She giggled as she watched. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know,” she teased.

  “Goodnight,” he said firmly.

  Her smile lingered as she watched him drift off. She bit her finger playfully, whispering to herself, “Recently, huh…” recalling his flustered denial. The thought of what might be going through his mind when he thought of her warmed her cheeks and quickened her heartbeat.

  Before the new emotion could overwhelm her, she pinched herself and crouched beside him. Brushing a loose strand of hair back, she leaned close to his ear and whispered softly:

  “Goodnight… Lucian.”

  The next morning

  Lucian awoke to the sound of floorboards creaking and bare feet padding across the room. From under the bed’s edge, he caught sight of Amira moving about.

  For a fleeting moment his eyes lingered on her toes curling against the wood whenever she paused, her cute feet dancing across the floorboards. He caught himself, shook the thought away, and yawned.

  “Oh good, you’re up!” she said brightly. “I already packed everything so we can hit the road whenever you’re ready.”

  Lucian scratched the back of his head as he sat up, his spine stiff from the floor.

  ‘We don’t even have luggage. What exactly did she pack?’

  They ate breakfast downstairs, Lucian a simple warm meal, Amira enough food to feed four, all on his coin. Afterward they mounted their horses and rode toward the northern border.

  The ride lasted most of the day. Amira entertained herself.. and Lucian, reluctantly.. with jokes, little songs, and pointing out oddly shaped clouds.

  “That’s an awfully long line,” she muttered, exhausted, as they reached the queue of travelers waiting at the border.

  “I wonder why so many people are leaving the country,” Lucian said quietly.

  “Probably the Demon Lord’s invasion plans.” Amira tapped her chin. “With the Ashen Dawn gone, people don’t trust the crown to protect them anymore. Their only choice is to flee.”

  Lucian gave her a long look, surprised at the insight.

  She caught it and smiled innocently. “What? There’s not much to do when you live alone in the woods. Any bit of information I get, I hold onto.”

  Lucian turned his gaze back to the long line of carriages, his chest heavy. He wanted to help these people, but he had already tried once, and they had scorned him for it.

  At last, it was their turn. They rode to the guards in black uniforms, each with a sword at his hip. Two manned the gate itself, one perched in the watchtower above, and two more checked travelers’ IDs and baggage.

  “Identification and reason for leaving,” one droned, voice flat from repetition.

  Lucian waited for Amira to answer. She didn’t.

  “Hello? Don’t make me repeat myself!” the guard barked, his partner’s hand drifting to his sword.

  Lucian sighed.

  ‘She’s not going to speak, is she?’

  “We were robbed on the way here,” he said smoothly, pointing at their bare horses. “They took our papers and most of our belongings.”

  It was a lie, but a believable one. Lucian couldn’t show his ID without risking exposure, and Amiras had supposedly burned with her house.

  The guard crossed his arms. “Without identification, we can’t let you pass. No way to verify you lived here before. If you leave, you can’t return.”

  Lucian slipped a handful of soulstones from his pouch. “That’s fine. We don’t plan on coming back.”

  Amira raised her brow.

  ‘We? What does he mean by we?’

  The guard eyed the bribe, then pocketed it quickly. The one next to him went to say something but was quickly met with a sharp look. He waved to the tower, and the massive gate began to descend with a groan, dust rising as the gears clanked and the doors split apart.

  “Be careful out there,” the guard muttered, and though his words were rote, there was a faint trace of worry beneath them. “It’s a lawless land. Most who leave tell stories of the horrors they saw.”

  “Thanks,” Lucian said, spurring his horse forward. Amira followed close behind.

  The gate rumbled shut behind them. Lucian felt as though every memory he’d made in this land, family, brothers, was closing with it.

  ‘Goodbye. May we meet again, if fate allows it.’

  High atop the wall, a guard’s eyes narrowed. He recognized Lucian. Memories of boot camp, where Lucian had been his instructor, flashed in his mind.

  “The king needs to know about this, immediately!” he shouted, rushing down the stairs.