The stalls around Altandai’s great square pressed close in a jumble of colors and smells.

  Spices strong enough to sting the nose, grilled meats dripping fat onto glowing coals, fabrics dyed every shade of jewel and earth.The clamor of merchants hawking their wares rose and fell like waves, voices weaving with the clink of coins, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional shriek of a child darting through the crowd.

  I stopped at one stall where a kettle hissed softly over a brazier, the air thick with the earthy perfume of dried leaves. “This one,” I told Lola, pointing at a small tin of my favorite tea, the one with a faint floral lift hidden beneath its bitter edge. “You’ll like it.”

  She arched one perfectly skeptical brow, clipboard tucked against her side as always. “Tea is fine. But still no coffee? This city is supposed to be civilized.”

  I smiled, handing over only a few coins. “No coffee. But they’ve got… this.” I plucked up another tin, its label scrawled with bold letters: Boar-Heavy Tea.

  Lola leaned closer, wrinkling her nose. “Boar… heavy?”

  “Apparently they use an essence of boars to strengthen the flavor,” the merchant offered cheerfully.

  I grinned and handed it over before she could protest. To my surprise, she actually nodded, lips pursed. “Hm. At least it sounds bold.”

  We carried our cups through the jostling square and found a bench near the Binding Stone, its shadow stretching long and cool across the cobbles.

  Up close, the obelisk dominated everything.

  Ten stories of rosy marble reared upward, its runes pulsing with a menacing red glow that painted faint lines across the faces of anyone who lingered too near. The surrounding air hummed, as if the stone itself exhaled.

  I nursed my drink, staring up at the tower. “This is… it?” My words slipped out like a confession.

  Lola lowered herself neatly beside me, sipping her tea. She coughed delicately into her hand, clearly not a fan of the “boar essence,” and gave a small nod.

  I kept my gaze on the stone. “I mean… our plan’s crazy enough. But until now it was always just… in the future, y’know? Something I could joke about, wave away, file under problem for later. But now—” I gestured with my cup, the liquid sloshing against the rim, “—here we are.”

  The crowd bustled around us, oblivious. Market goers haggled, children laughed, a busker plucked a bad tune on a lute. Ordinary life moved on beneath the shadow of the obelisk, and the weight of that hit me like a stone to the chest.

  “I’m kind of fond of this city,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t want to destroy it.”

  “Lady!” Lola’s head snapped toward me, finger pressing against her lips. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “This area is not secure!”

  I grumbled a short laugh, shaking my head. “Relax, Lola. It’s fine. And… I’m not getting cold feet. I know what I’ll do. What needs to be done.” My smile faltered as I looked back at the stone, its glow crawling across my skin. “It just… weighs on me, you know?”

  Lola’s rigid composure softened. She shifted closer and gave me the quickest of side hugs, brief but warm. Her voice lost its edge. “We’ll make sure to spare as many civilians as we can.”

  The words didn’t erase the weight pressing down, but they steadied me all the same. Together we sat in the shadow of the Binding Stone, tea cooling in our hands, while the city carried on as if tomorrow wasn’t coming.

  Lola placed the tea on the bench and crouched low, her neat skirts gathering dust as she traced her fingers across the cobbles. Her clipboard, for once, leaned forgotten against the bench. She tilted her head, scanning the flawless stone with the intensity of a jeweler searching for flaws. The murmurs of the market swirled around her, but she looked utterly deaf to it all.

  “Lady…” she said finally, her voice dipping low, touched with something I almost wanted to call doubt. “Is it really here? I can’t feel anything.”

  I grinned at her over the rim of my cup. The tea was nearly gone now, leaving only a faint sheen of steam curling into the air. “Yes,” I said, letting the word draw out like I was teasing her. “It was hard to make it here in the first place. The square is watched.”

  I nodded toward the corners of the plaza.

  Guards lingered at each one, half-shadowed beneath the eaves of the surrounding buildings. Their armor gleamed, and their spears caught the sun at just the right angle to look ceremonial instead of threatening. But their eyes tracked movement.

  Always movement.

  “They don’t care what the slaves do, though,” I continued, lowering my voice. “Scrub the stones, carry crates, scratch runes into the dirt? Doesn’t matter. I could basically do anything I wanted so long as I told them my master from the Green House ordered it. That was the trick.”

  Lola pushed herself upright, dusting her hands off with sharp, irritated pats. “What… lack of security?” She shook her head, disgust curling her lips. “That’s unbelievable.”

  I tipped back the last mouthful of tea, bitter and heavy on my tongue, and shrugged. “Well, they didn’t really have a conflict here, did they? Not a real one. Not within living memory. Thieves, sure. But war? Nothing. The only check they run is making sure a slave is truly bound, and not just some idiot in a costume. And me?” I tapped my chest, smiling thinly. “Still bound to the Stone. At least technically.”

  The statement hung between us, heavy as the obelisk’s shadow. “Well,” I said at last. “That worked for me.”

  We sat for a while after that, just breathing. The square bustled around us, full of color and clamor, but for a moment, it was only the two of us. My coat stirred in the warm wind. Lola’s hand curled over her clipboard again, thumb tapping against the wood like she was counting seconds.

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  I let my shoulders slump back against the bench, closed my eyes, and let the red glow from the Binding Stone press against my lids like the afterimage of fire.

  “Queen? Now? Please?”

  The voice startled me. My eyes shot open, and I sucked in a long, steadying breath before glancing sideways.

  Yuki.

  She stood over us, all sunshine bottled into a single body. Her colorful hair caught the light, glowing as if spun through with gold threads. Little motes of her light magic flickered faintly around her, like sparks too restless to stay still. She practically glittered with energy, her smile so bright it made me squint.

  “Yuki,” I groaned. “Can’t it wait? You know… after tomorrow? You’re supposed to be at the port gate in like twenty hours.”

  Instead of answering, she plopped herself down directly between me and Lola, wriggling into the space like it had always belonged to her. Her shoulder bumped mine, warm and buzzing faintly with magic. She nodded furiously, her eyes wide and starry, every inch the overeager child demanding candy before dinner.

  “I know, but…” She grabbed my arm, bouncing slightly. “Foxes!”

  Her sheer joy made it impossible not to laugh. I rubbed my temple with one hand, shaking my head. “Foxes, huh.”

  I glanced down at my empty cup, sighed, and set it aside on the bench’s edge. “Very well. Everything is already in motion, and I don’t exactly have much else to do right now.” I looked over Yuki’s head toward Lola. “Seneschal? Permission?”

  Lola didn’t even hesitate. She waved her clipboard hand, dismissing me like a mother Irwen shooing a princess toward play. “Go, Queen. You’ve worked hard enough. Leave it up to us. Trust us.”

  The words landed harder than she probably meant them to. Warmth spread through my chest, so sudden it nearly brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away, shaking my head sharply as if I could physically rattle the feeling loose.

  I had people who carried my will, people who were competent. People I could trust.

  That weight, the one I’d been dragging around for so long, shifted, just a little. Not gone, never gone. But easier to bear.

  I rose from the bench, stretching the stiffness out of my legs. Yuki popped up beside me, practically vibrating with excitement, her hands clapping together like a fox-tail wagging in her chest.

  Lola stayed seated, eyes already drawn back to her clipboard, the faintest crease at her brow as she started sketching notes. The Binding Stone loomed above us all, its runes pulsing in steady rhythm, like a heartbeat waiting for the moment it would stop.

  I looked at it one last time; the glow washing faintly over my hands. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would either all work—or all burn.

  Well, burning meant it was working.

  Leaving the Binding Stone square behind felt like slipping out from under a weight. The murmur of the plaza faded into the city’s lower hum… hawkers arguing over coins, the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoing through a side street, the distant splash of a bucket poured into a trough. Yuki trailed close at my side, her steps light, practically bouncing with leftover sunshine.

  She tugged something out from her satchel as we walked, the motion so casual I almost didn’t notice until the thick spine caught the light. A book. Leather-bound, worn soft at the corners, stamped with faded lettering.

  I blinked. “Yuki, is it… interesting?”

  She tilted her head, lips pursed, gaze fixed on the page she’d just flipped open. For once, she actually paused to think before answering. Finally, she shrugged, holding the book up so I could see the title stamped across its cover.

  History of the Reserve Guild of the Fourth Flame, Vol. 9.

  A tiny embossed flame flickered under the title, etched in gold. The cover smelled faintly of smoke and old parchment, like it had been stored too close to a hearth.

  “This is from the guild master of that guild,” Yuki said matter-of-factly, tapping the insignia with her finger. “Most of the time he grumbles. Says whenever someone interesting pops up in his ranks, they’re snatched away by the main guild. Which, you know…” She shrugged again. “That’s kind of the purpose of a reserve guild.”

  Her eyes brightened as she turned another page, voice gaining speed. “But sometimes… sometimes they go on really interesting adventures!”

  I shook my head with a small laugh. “Of course you’d find the one book full of guild gossip.”

  The street sloped downward, narrowing into a lane lined with squat houses. Every single one was built from the same rosy stone. It gave everything a faintly warm blush, even when the light turned sharp and cold. Laundry lines sagged between windows, the air heavy with the smell of boiled cabbage and wood smoke.

  We stopped at a small, weather-beaten home wedged between two slightly taller neighbors. The door was old oak, scarred and scuffed, with a crooked iron knocker shaped like a wolf’s head. I rapped my knuckles against it hard enough to echo.

  Nothing.

  I rapped again, louder this time. The sound bounced down the empty street. Yuki leaned forward, peeking through a crack in the shutters, her book still clutched against her chest.

  Finally, the hinges creaked, and the door eased open. An old man peered out, stooped with age, face a map of deep wrinkles. His smile revealed yellowed teeth, though the expression itself was warm enough. The air that drifted out from his home carried the dusty scent of old wood and stale bread.

  “Ah, traveler?” His voice rasped like dry leaves. “Do you need something?”

  I gave him a quick nod, squaring my shoulders. “Yes. You told me once about a fox story.” I reached back, nudging Yuki forward. She bobbed her head so hard I thought it might fall off. “My friend here would very much like to hear it.”

  The man’s tired eyes lit with the glow of remembered importance. He straightened a little, pleased by the attention. “I can tell you in the evening, when—”

  I cut him off by producing a gold coin from my pouch, letting it gleam in the sunlight as I flipped it once between my fingers. His eyes tracked it hungrily.

  “This is yours for the story,” I said smoothly. “And every drink tonight is on me.”

  His smile widened, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. He stepped fully out, pulling the door shut behind him with a solid clunk. “Of course! Any drink?” His voice dipped, skeptical but hopeful, eyes narrowing at mine.

  “Yes,” I said with mock solemnity. “Any drink. Even that expensive wolf mead.”

  That did it. His grin broke wide, and his shoulders shook with a low chuckle. He rubbed his hands together like a man about to rob fate blind.

  Together, we set off toward the Wolf Inn. The streets opened back up, wider now, buzzing with midday life.

  The smell of roasted nuts wafted from a vendor cart, chased by the sour bite of ale spilled in the gutter. Children ran past us, one clutching a wooden toy sword, the other wearing half a paper fox or wolf's mask that dangled precariously.

  Yuki’s eyes sparkled at that, her head swiveling to watch until the pair disappeared around a corner.

  When the inn finally loomed into view, I led us inside, pushing through the thick wooden door. The warmth hit instantly. The room hummed with voices, laughter bubbling at the edges, tankards clinking in rhythm with boots tapping against the floorboards.

  We claimed a table near the back, where the noise dimmed enough for conversation. I slid onto the bench, while Yuki plopped down beside me, book already open again. Across from us, the old man lowered himself slowly, joints creaking, but his grin never faded.

  A server wandered over, tray balanced expertly in one hand. I didn’t bother waiting. “Steppe Bite,” I ordered. My voice carried a shade louder than intended, catching a few ears at nearby tables. “This time,” I added firmly, locking eyes with him, “without the stick.”

  The old man’s eyes flicked to me, then to the server, and back again. He tilted his head, his smile shifting into something sly.

  The server nodded briskly, scribbled the order, and vanished into the sea of bodies.

  Yuki leaned forward, hands on the table, her light magic flaring faintly in her excitement. Her hair shimmered in the hearth's glow, her book half-forgotten for once. The old man rubbed his palms together again, savoring the weight of the gold coin I’d pressed into his hand.

  “Ah,” he rasped. “You want to hear about the Sun Fox, child? Hah. Then listen well, for it is no tale for the faint of heart… nor the greedy.”