The door flew inward hard enough to rattle the hooks. Caelan burst through first, boots skidding on the flagstones, eyes bright with a terrible idea.

  “Sir—!” the innkeeper started, half-rising from behind the counter.

  Solara tore in a heartbeat later. “I will beat you half to death if you spend it all, you idiot—get back here!”

  Caelan slid on one heel and came to a breathless stop against the front desk. “I want to buy your inn, ple—”

  Solara launched. A clean, two?foot tackle—she drove him through the wall with a thud that shook dust out of the beams. A Caelan?shaped dent bloomed in the plaster.

  “From now on, I control the money,” she said, balanced over him, hair in her eyes, perfectly calm. “Why in the stars did I let you carry it anyway?”

  Caelan, halfway embedded and thoroughly winded, raised a thumb. “Good call.”

  The rest of the squad spilled through the doorway.

  Keira whistled. “Yeah, you’re right, Captain—she’s a beauty.”

  Veyra squeaked, eyes on a stack of folded throws. “Are those… adorable blankets? Dibs!” She sprinted over and wrapped herself in two at once.

  Braen took in the high beams and wide halls. “It’s so spacious—finally a place where I’m not going to break my neck. You get me, big guy?” She slapped Garron’s back.

  Garron rumbled, unbothered. “Honestly, I do not see why we must spend money when we can sleep outside.”

  “Great—one more crazy idiot in the mix,” Takeshi muttered. “Please keep your crazy to yourself, big guy. Finally, a nice place for once—let’s not ruin it.”

  Garron turned, mild as the weather. “Braen, may I borrow your shield for a moment?”

  “Sure,” she said, passing it over.

  Garron walked to Takeshi and let the shield drop with a heavy clang—right beside Takeshi’s toes. He smiled without warmth, eyes steady. “The last person who called me crazy left with broken parts. This will be our last talk on the subject.”

  Takeshi swallowed hard and nodded, silent.

  Milo laughed. “Why do you always pick on giants, Takeshi, bro?” He snagged his and Aidan’s bags, hurled them up toward the second?floor balcony—crack—the banister splintered. “I want my own room this time. I’m not sharing!”

  Aidan hurried to Caelan, who was still half against the wall, cradling his left arm. “Will you stop using that arm? You need to let it heal.”

  “Don’t blame me—blame that large mon—” Caelan started.

  “Call me ‘large’ again, Cael,” Solara said sweetly, “and we’ll find out how many walls you can survive.”

  Behind the counter, the innkeeper leaned back in his chair, tone bone?dry. “Will you please stop destroying my work? I spent ten years on this place. It would be much appreciated.”

  Solara turned to him, smoothing her sleeves. “Apologies, sir. We’ll happily— would it be possible to have two rooms, please?”

  A chorus of groans rose behind her.

  The innkeeper rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, reached under the counter, and brought a hammer down with a clean, ringing thud that made the ledgers jump.

  “Let me be certain,” he said mildly. “You wander into my quiet inn, wreck two supports, and you think I’m going to leap up for… two rooms? Not happening.”

  “Sorry?” Solara began.

  He sat back, swung his chair a little, and put his feet on the counter. Then, calm as anything, he said: “It’s the whole house. Take it or leave it.”

  Solara blinked, turned halfway to the squad. “Come on, let’s fin—”

  Caelan shoulder?checked her back into the dent, grinning. “Keira—my bag!”

  Keira was already moving. “Fuck yeah—when did you grow a spine?” She hauled the rucksack onto the counter, fished out a bag of scrap bars, and slid it across. “How long for this?”

  “Get off me, Cael,” Solara hissed. “We don’t need a place this big.”

  The innkeeper eyed the emerald?tint alloy, weighed the bag in his palm, then nodded once. “This covers the damages… and a month.”

  “I swear to god, Langston—” Solara started, and Caelan clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “We’ll take it,” he said.

  The squad exhaled as one.

  Caelan looked back at Solara, sheepish. “Sorry I had to— fuck yeah this is going to be awesome, bitches—”

  She bit his hand. He yelped and let go. “Bitch—what was that for?”

  “Aw, you poor man,” Solara said, dusting herself off. “We knew you so well.”

  “What?”

  She slapped his left arm four times in a blur.

  “Owwww—what was that for? I only swore three times, not four!”

  “Aw, sorry, Cael.” She tapped his arm once more. “I forgot to say—the B-word now counts as two.”

  “Since when—and stop hitting the bad arm, please, Solara.”

  “When you finally watch how you speak,” she said sweetly, “then we can talk.”

  The innkeeper tapped the hammer head twice against the counter. “So—am I correct that you two are what passes for in charge of this cluster of incompetence?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Fine. House rules: break it, buy it. You change anything outside your rooms, you ask first. And the privacy of guests is not a bargaining chip. Am I understood?”

  Solara squinted at him. “Why are you looking at me?”

  “Because you put him through my wall,” he said, perfectly calm.

  Solara sighed. “Fair. Sorry. He gets under my skin sometimes.”

  The innkeeper said, “Welcome to the Beech & Ember… and my name is Joss Calder, if any of you even bothered to ask.”

  Aidan stepped up to the desk and just… stared.

  Joss sighed. “What, little man?”

  “What’s the square footage of the rooms?” Aidan asked, dead serious.

  Joss blinked once. “Has anyone told you you’re weird?”

  He lifted his chin to address the room. “Since you lot seem to speak before you think. A favour: when you’re in Virelith—be quiet. This city hears everything. News goes where it needs to go fast and—” He stopped, squinted. “Are her eyes sparkling?”

  Caelan threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Better believe it. We call her Sparkles.”

  Solara’s smile was pleasant and absolutely not. “Aww, Caelan, I didn’t know you had a death wish.” Her eyes went blade-sharp as she spelled it out, slow. “I get it. It’s because you are short, Caelan. Some might say T-I-N-Y.”

  Caelan didn’t look away from Joss. “Yeah, so, we call her Solara. Never Sparkles. Not even when she’s not around.”

  Joss slid a small bunch of keys across the counter. “This place is going to eat you all alive. Good luck. Let me know if you need anything—or if that idiot Aurex starts moaning. If you see him, punch him in the face for me while you’re at it.” He tapped the keys. “Kindly don’t wreck the place.”

  Milo toed one of the carved pillars supporting the common-room balcony. The wood gave a little crack down the middle.

  Joss didn’t look. He threw the hammer; it thunked into the pillar, pinning a hairline split. His eyes found Milo. “I mean it.”

  Milo laughed. “Damn—he’s like the time I called sis fat—”

  Keira tackled him to the floor, yanking his hair. “I told you not to mention that again, idiot—and never mention me fancying that short idiot again. Like I’d settle for that. I have standards.”

  Caelan, without looking over: “Sorry, sis, I need to— Solara, how many hours is that now?”

  Solara folded her arms, considering. “You know what? I’m knocking twenty off for Keira. But let’s not forget the ten you’ve used since the gate.” She clicked her tongue. “Congratulations, Keira—three-ninety.”

  Keira climbed off Milo, smoothed her hair, and turned a slow, smug smile on Caelan. “Suck it.”

  Aidan edged back to the counter. “Well… are all the rooms the same size, at least?”

  Joss grunted. “You’re going to be a pain in my side, aren’t you? No. Two end rooms at the end of the hallway—one on each floor—are larger. Each has its own bathroom.”

  “Own bathroom?” Keira echoed, eyes widening.

  Cut to Caelan already leaping for the balcony. “Mine mine mine mine!”

  He sprinted through the hall.

  “Over my dead body!” Keira bolted for the stairs. Veyra and Braen thundered after her.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Aidan sighed. “Come on, Milo. Grab our bags—we’ll share the downstairs one.”

  “It’ll kill sis,” Milo giggled, hauling the luggage.

  They took one step and froze. The air tightened.

  Solara, smiling without warmth: “You know why they’re all fighting for that room? Because it was clearly claimed.” Her teeth stayed together. “Take another step, and we’ll find out how much training is too much. The usual: a few bruises, maybe a fracture. Accidents happen.” The floorboards creaked under her feet. She didn’t blink.

  Aidan gulped loudly. Milo raised both hands. “You know we’re joking.”

  “Excellent.” Aidan bobbed his head. “I’ll, uh—let me help with your bag, Ms Solara.”

  “That’s the attitude we need more of,” she said, sweeping past, finally pleased.

  “Anything for the captain’s girlfriend,” Milo chirped.

  Solara didn’t turn. Her fist snapped back on instinct and punched Milo into the nearest open room. He landed upside down, blinking at the ceiling.

  “That’s your room,” she said. “Clean it. Bring me tea. And I might not break you tomorrow.”

  “Agh—man hands,” Milo wheezed.

  She tilted her head into the doorway. “I see spending too much time with that idiot has made you brave. We’ll test that.”

  “Aidan,” Solara snapped, already walking. “Now. Before we start calling you and Keira the twins.”

  —

  Upstairs. Caelan tore down the corridor. “This place is massive. How many ro—”

  Keira jump-kicked him into the wall. “Over my dead body.”

  She turned to sprint. An arrow thunked at ankle height right in front of her; she stumbled.

  Veyra rounded the corner, breathless. “Please just let me have a nice bathroom—please.”

  “I need it more,” Caelan said, shoving off the wall and breaking into a run.

  Braen lowered her tower shield and shouldered into Caelan. “Move, before I crush you. I need space for once.”

  “Ow—why is everyone hitting me today? I’m in recovery here!” Caelan protested, staggering.

  Up ahead, the three of them went shoulder-to-shoulder, snarling as they raced. Veyra tried diplomacy: “Keira, we can share—help me block Braen—”

  “Screw that,” Keira snapped. “You’ll leave stuff everywhere. My space. End of.”

  Braen growled. “You’re both tiny—what do you need a whole room for?”

  They were three strides from the door when the whole hall shuddered—Braen’s shield smacked the wall with a boom—and Caelan vaulted the banister, skimming over their heads. He palmed the doorframe first, flung it open, and threw his bag inside.

  “Captain’s quarters! See you all downstairs in ten when we divvy the haul—bye!”

  He slammed the door just as Keira, Veyra, and Braen collided with it in a chorus of groans.

  From inside, Caelan’s laugh drifted out. “Suckers!”

  Caelan clapped his hands. “Right. Business.”

  He ducked into the end room’s bathroom and whistled. “Holy—this is nice. Is that a shower?” He cracked the valve; water purred behind the tiles. “We are absolutely testing that after we handle the real reason we’re here.”

  He turned to the toilet with solemn reverence. “Hello, beautiful.”

  He sat and sighed as a man came home. “This is the life. So peaceful—”

  A fist-sized hole popped through the shared wall, accompanied by a brittle crack. Caelan froze mid-sit as Keira, gripping Braen’s warhammer like a lever, peered through the rubble with Braen looming behind her.

  “Thanks, that worked,” Keira said, entirely unapologetic. “Listen up: this is my bedroom, and we’re sharing this bathroom. Clear?”

  Caelan lifted an eyebrow. “You know you could’ve just used it without smashing a hole in the wall, sis?”

  “Hurry up,” Keira said, already walking away. “I want a bath before you wreck the city.”

  From the common room below, Joss called up without looking: “I charge extra for head-shaped dents and new holes.”

  —

  Two hours later, the squad gathered in the common room. Keira and Solara sat in borrowed housecoats, steam drifting off mugs of tea. Caelan eyed them, scandalised.

  “How does a bath take two hours? That’s half an afternoon!”

  Solara sipped. “You’re a pig. You’ll never understand.”

  Keira clinked her mug. “Fuck yeah, tell him, Sol—”

  “Three-ninety-one,” Solara said without looking at her.

  Keira winced, then shrugged. “Worth it.”

  Takeshi slapped both palms on the table. “Anyway, can we get this ball rolling? You’ve kept us waiting three days. Show daddy the pile.”

  Caelan rolled his eyes but hauled three sacks up and let them thump onto the table. Bars clinked—a rich, metallic rain. “Fine. Let’s get on with it; I need a drink. The record to date was that White Death six months back—120 kilos net. That got us far.” He tapped the sacks. “Back there, we dropped what ten, fifteen. Good haul.”

  He glanced at Solara; she gave a tiny nod.

  “One change,” Caelan said. “Solara and I have been talking and—”

  Solara cut over him, firm. “House now takes thirty per cent before cuts.”

  “You thieving—” Keira started.

  “We had an agreement!” Takeshi yelped.

  Solara set her mug down, calm enough to scare stone. “If anyone would like to challenge this,” she said pleasantly, “you can—during training tomorrow. This is for your own good. Since a certain idiot has rented an entire building for the long term, we require it. Now: can we finish before the shops close?”

  Muttered swears died. Eyes went down.

  Caelan exhaled. “Screw it. This week: 140 kilos each after the house cut. One more item.” He tapped a small emerald-tinted brick. “This new material—I’ve used it twice. None of you had seen it before. We’ve got about 470 kilos left. Yes, we’ll split it as usual—but I want us to wait before burning any. I have a feeling it’s worth more than we think.”

  Takeshi inhaled to argue.

  Caelan lifted a hand. “Yes, Takeshi, you can hold your bag. Go play. Jesus.”

  He started dealing sacks. “One for you. One for you. And one for you—”

  Takeshi immediately curled around his prize, whispering to it.

  Milo elbowed Aidan. “Surprised you can lift that after all the weight you’ve put on.”

  Aidan didn’t blink. “Oh yeah—did sis say you’re carrying my stuff? Catch.”

  He dropped his sack on Milo’s; Milo vanished with a strangled wheeze.

  “Maybe sis will cuddle your sore feelings,” Aidan added.

  Keira hopped onto Milo’s back and added her sack. “Almost forgot—I told you I’d get you back. Carry mine, too.”

  “Ow! Bitch—what was that for?!” Milo croaked.

  Solara blurred across the space, lifted all three bags off him one-handed, then gave Milo two crisp slaps. “You’ve been spending too much time with Caelan. Be better. The next person who says the B-word today gets ten of those. Don’t test me.”

  She set the sacks aside, smoothed her robe. “Now: get changed. Five minutes. I want to sample the tea here—or so help Caelan.”

  She pointed at him without looking. “Before you change, put the extra in my room. I don’t need you being dumb and buying stuff again.”

  “I would never—”

  “You spent the last lot on booze for ‘morale.’” Her gaze went knife-cold. “Do I need to tell everyone the thing you agreed to?”

  Caelan’s grin went humble in a heartbeat. He shouldered the extra sack. “Right. Your room. No bother.” He hummed as he headed for the stairs. “Come on, people—move. I want a new sword before tonight’s hunt.”

  “What about the MVP bag?” Takeshi shouted after Caelan as he headed for the hall with the extra sack.

  “Sis gets it!” Caelan called back. “Well done—did us proud, sis!”

  “We had a deal!” Takeshi yelped, chasing him into the hall.

  Keira clapped once, stood on her chair like a general. “Right. Priorities—whoever finds me one cup of hot chocolate or a lead on how to get some —gets the MVP bag. Game faces on.”

  Veyra tilted her head. “I wonder what it tastes like. She never stops talking about it.”

  Braen rose with a stretch that popped the chair. “You know how little people are. Always wanting strange things.”

  At the end of the table, Garron had been quiet, staring at his sack as if it were a sleeping animal. He turned to Solara. “I think he has made a mistake. I did not earn this. I have never needed it before. If I may give it to you to handle—”

  Everyone blinked at him.

  “No mistakes,” Solara said, setting her empty cup down. “Stop getting hung up on that. Besides—” she glanced at Caelan’s empty chair, expression innocent— “I made him cry after our fight the day we met and still got my cut.”

  Keira waved Garron off. “Just buy something nice, big man. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not sure I will need all this,” Garron murmured, but he let the sack stay.

  The door swung wide. Caelan reappeared with Takeshi still muttering at his heels—and a tangle of flowers in both arms.

  “Oh, crap—forgot.” He hustled in, already dividing the blooms. “There was this lovely flower stall back there, so I thought—why not?”

  He handed Veyra a small bouquet.

  “Eh… they’re so nice,” Veyra said, baffled. “Strange of you to pick something so nice.”

  He offered an armful to Braen. “For you, my large, beautiful lady.”

  Braen’s grin showed every tooth. “Look at you, our cute little captain. I could crush you so much right now.”

  “Please don’t, big dawg,” Caelan said, backing a respectful step.

  He turned to Solara and held out the last bouquet. She eyed the flowers, then him. “What do you want?”

  “Solara, I’m hurt. And offended.” He wasn’t.

  Keira breezed past with her own handful, bumping shoulders. “Just roll with it, Sol. He does weird crap like this now and again.” She hopped down from the chair and pointed to the door. “Right—shift it, people. The hunt is on. I want out of here.”

  They spilled into the street in a loose V. The city’s great map stood on an iron plinth at the crossroads, edges nicked by a hundred pointing fingers.

  Solara fell in beside Caelan as the others drifted ahead. “And don’t start a fight again,” she murmured. “Keep that strength under control. I don’t want to find you crashed through buildings—again. Also, get a new jacket. I’m starting to understand what Veyra means; that thing’s barely holding together. And don’t skimp on the weapon just to buy more booze. In fact, leave it. I’ll handle that.”

  Caelan laughed. “Don’t worry, Sol. Have I ever let you down?”

  “Not in a fight,” she said. “But in every other aspect of being human? You have… room to improve.”

  He grinned like a kid. “That’s why I’ve got you.”

  “Tonight,” Solara said, voice low. “We do it tonight—when everyone’s back. They need to know.”

  “Fine.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll tell them. I can hear her already—‘Did you practice that in the mirror, big bro?’—bleugh.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Solara said. “We’ve planned it long enough; time to make it happen. Oh—what in the stars—wait—”

  Keira whooped, launched herself onto Garron’s shoulders, and the two of them loped off down the lane like a centaur made of bad decisions.

  “Damn it,” Solara breathed. “We don’t even have a plan yet.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Caelan said. “And if we need to find her, she’s… noticeable.”

  They reached the map. A dozen coloured pins marked markets, forges, and bathhouses. The squad gathered, tracing routes.

  “Where are those two off to?” Solara asked.

  Aidan didn’t look up. “She saw a food market. That was that. Come on, Milo—let’s catch up. I hope they have something that doesn’t taste like trash.”

  “That won’t stop you,” Milo snorted.

  “Braen,” Veyra said.

  Braen lifted both boys by their collars and set them on their feet facing the right street. “Sorry, boys.”

  Veyra planted her hands on her hips. “Right—listen up, you two. We’re getting you something new to wear. You’re both starting to look like that walking fashion disaster over there.” She pointed at Caelan.

  “Hey—Solara isn’t a fashion disaster,” Caelan said.

  “She’s talking to you, idiot,” Solara deadpanned.

  Solara raised her voice. “Before you all sprint off—rendezvous in that plaza in two hours.” She tapped a square marked with a little fountain icon.

  A city worker shuffled up, straightening a placard beside the map. “Don’t miss the execution, midday,” he said to no one in particular. “Monster’s been on the loose since Virelith was founded. Rumour is Mr Vallis will be handing out promotions—maybe even announcing the Fourth City.” He wedged the sign in, eyes carefully not meeting theirs.

  “Vallis,” Caelan snickered. “What a dumb name. Bet he looks dumb.”

  The worker said nothing and moved on.

  “Four hours,” Caelan said. “Plenty of time. We’ll go see what that’s about.”

  “Fine,” Solara said. “But remember—best behaviour. Wait—no. Boys, put those back. Give them to me.” She plucked two assault rifles from Aidan and Milo and slung them with a sigh. “I’ll put these back at the inn. I don’t want one of you doing something dumb like his mini-me did to the last town.”

  “It’s fine,” Milo said brightly, producing a sidearm from the small of his back.

  “Yeah,” Aidan agreed, tugging another from his waistband. “These will work just fine.”

  Solara pivoted to Caelan. “Where did they get those?”

  He rubbed his neck. “Aw, you know. A while back. In case of emergency.”

  “Braen. Veyra. If they take those out, beat the pair of them for me.”

  “Understood,” they said together.

  Veyra squealed as something caught her eye. “I wonder if they have anything cute. Ooh—do they make clothes here? I need custom stuff, ASAP.”

  “I’ll tell you right now, Auntie Veyra,” Milo said, backing away, “we are not being your dress-up again. I swear.”

  “Yeah, you tell her, bro,” Aidan said, with the confidence of a man about to be measured for a vest.

  Takeshi nudged Caelan. “Let’s get moving. You still owe me half your bag. I want to buy things; I’m practically naked for equipment out here.”

  “Fine,” Caelan said. “But you’re buying the drinks while you build whatever.”

  “Deal.”

  Caelan turned to Solara. “South has scrap shops and a few bars near the gate. Want to link up there if you finish early?”

  “Mm. Yes. And please—Caelan—it’s a nice place.”

  He slung an arm around Takeshi’s shoulders. “Blah, blah. See you in a bit.”

  “Rendezvous: the fountain, two hours,” Solara called after them. “Then we head to the execution.”

  She started back toward the inn with the rifles. “Maybe we get a few quiet days,” she muttered to herself, then snorted. “Hours, if I’m lucky.”

  She had gone three steps when a red scarf slid through the edge of the crowd. A coin flipped on a nearby stall and landed tails-up. Conversations thinned for a heartbeat, then resumed as if nothing had happened.

  Solara’s eyes narrowed. She tucked the rifles closer, turned on her heel, and headed for the inn at a brisk clip.

  Already halfway across the street, Keira whooped again—Garron’s long stride eating the street toward the food market. Braen and Veyra frog-marched Aidan and Milo toward a tailor’s section of the city. Caelan and Takeshi cut south, bickering about who likes the better video games. The Beech & Ember’s chimney sent up a tidy line of smoke behind them, a little piece of Home against in a place built for nothing but war.