Celeste

  The path to the ale stand wound past a row of market stalls and into a wide, sunlit clearing where wooden benches circled a simple counter built beneath stretched canvas awning. The man behind it, barrel-chest and balding, poured mugs of amber ale for anyone who handed over a coin.

  It wasn’t a tavern, not really. No walls. No smoke-thick air. Just open sky, scattered seating, and a quiet hum of conversation from villagers taking a break from the day’s work.

  And at the far of the benches, alone with a half-finished mug and a silence that felt heavier than the rest of the space was Darius.

  He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into the ale as though it held answers he didn’t particularly like. His posture was relaxed, but only in the way a blade resting in its sheath was relaxed.

  Fira slowed. The others followed suit.

  Lioren’s humming faltered for the first time since he started.

  Darius didn’t turn as we approached, but he didn’t need to. His voice carried across the clearing in a low, even tone.

  “Good. You’re all here.”

  Only then did he lift his gaze, and it landed on me first.

  My chest tightened.

  Something in the air shifted. Subtle, but unmistakable.

  Lioren’s grin thinned as he stepped forward.

  Darius finally leaned back from his drink, eyeing Lioren with the calm, assessing look of a man checking whether a blade still held its edge.

  “Did you have fun with your friend?” he asked.

  No greeting or acknowledgement of anyone else. Just that.

  Lioren brightened instantly, hands spreading wide as if to embrace the entire village.

  “Aye,” he declared. “A delightful time. Very wholesome. Barely committed a felony.”

  Fira groaned.

  Darius kept his expression unchanged.

  “Mm,” he said, taking another slow sip of ale. “Glad you’re back.”

  Lioren threw himself onto the bench across from him, boots kicked out, grin firmly in place.

  “Oh, come now,” he said. “You had to have missed me more than that.”

  Darius didn’t respond.

  Lioren raised his brows, feigning injury. “Rude.”

  Darius didn’t indulge him further. He simply lifted his mug again and nodded once toward the counter.

  At that, the group broke apart.

  Fira headed for the ale stand first, basket still hooked in the crook of her elbow. Elena and Jaren went next, Elena dragging him with a hand around his wrist when he hesitated. Iven was already there, leaning one elbow on the counter as though he’d claimed the spot the moment the idea of ale had entered existence.

  Tobar followed with a grunt, already fishing for a coin.

  The space around the benches loosened, the din of quiet village chatter filling in the edges.

  Lioren propped his elbows on his knees and squinted after the others. “Someone grab two for me and Anna!” he called. “Preferably from the top of the barrel, she’s delicate.”

  “I am not,” I muttered.

  “You’re delicate,” he said, “One bird glared at you and you had us change our course.”

  Fira made a hand gesture, whose meaning depended entirely on charitable interpretation, and waved to show she’d heard him.

  I sank onto the bench beside Lioren, grateful for the brief pause. The air smelled of malt, warm wood, and sun-baked grass.

  Darius watched me sit.

  “I thought,” he said at last, “we left you at the village to rescue your husband.”

  My breath caught. Lioren went still beside me.

  I swallowed, forcing air into my lungs.

  Right. This was the moment I had to remember whose truths belonged to who.

  Lioren knew that Art wasn’t my husband, and that Celeste was my real name. Anna was the shield I wore with everyone else. And Darius was not a man I knew well enough to hand my life to.

  I nodded once, steadying my voice.

  “He… wasn’t there.”

  Darius’s brow furrowed. He set his mug down.

  “They had split somewhere on the trail before reaching the village. I’m… not sure where he is now.”

  Something in Darius’s face shifted. Something gentle, regretful, the kind of softness that made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should never have left you there alone. We should have waited at the edge and made sure you were safe.”

  He shook his head once. The apology struck me deeper than I expected.

  He exhaled and studied me with that easy calm of his.

  “Where are you headed now?”

  “Rodin,” I answered.

  “Aye, found her at the Honeyreach,” Lioren broke in. “Poor thing was lookin’ a bit lost.”

  Darius’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

  “I see,” he said slowly.

  He paused.

  “It happens. Loss leads folk to strange doors. If you’d… found comfort there. I hope it helped alleviate some of your pain.”

  Lioren’s eyebrows climbed in a slow, triumphant arc that made my teeth clench.

  My face went hot.

  “I didn’t,” I said instantly.

  Lioren leaned back on the bench, smug as a cat in a dairy barn.

  Darius only lifted an eyebrow, the faintest hint of disbelief tugging at his expression. But he didn’t push.

  The tension in my spine eased a fraction.

  Bootsteps and the clink of clay mugs signaled the others returning. Ale sloshed in half-filled cups as Fira handed one to Lioren and set another beside me. Elena and Jaren settled onto the far end of the bench, and Tobar lowered himself on a crate with a grunt.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Iven passed out the last few mugs with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d already downed half his own.

  Harl arrived a beat later, appearing from the back of the stall like he’d grown out of the shadows. He gave me a single nod before veering past to buy a drink of his own.

  Lioren answered Harl’s nod with a tiny one toward me, a glimmer in his eye.

  I took a sip of ale, grateful for something warm grounding me.

  Conversation drifted around the table, loose at first, then circling toward me. At some point Lioren launched into the story of the Misfits, and the Brotherhood laughed their way through every grisly detail, unbothered as ever by blood or chaos. After that, the questions came: what happened on the road, how Lioren and I had crossed paths again, whether the village had been safe, and if anyone had followed. Their voices overlapped, some soft, some brisk, but all threaded with concern.

  So I told them.

  Not everything, but enough to satisfy curiosity.

  When I finished, the group fell into a brief, thoughtful silence.

  Elena muttered a quiet curse. Tobar rolled his shoulders and Fira reached out and squeezed my arm once.

  Only Darius remained still, his mug untouched, eyes fixed somewhere past us.

  Lioren, for all his easy posture, watched Darius too.

  I hadn’t said anything about him coming with me to Rodin. And he hadn’t either.

  The thought settled in, threading itself between the lingering silence and the warmth of the ale in my hands. I wasn’t sure if he still planned on accompanying me or if that had only been a moment’s promise made on the road.

  He wasn’t obligated. I’d been prepared to make the journey alone before he’d ever offered, and I could do it again if he chose otherwise.

  So I didn’t bring it up. Not to him, and not to the Brotherhood.

  If he meant to come, he would say so. And if he didn’t… I’d manage.

  I always had.

  Time slipped after that, loosening at the edges as the group settled into the kind of easy rhythm only people who’ve bled together seem able to find. Laughter rose and fell in uneven waves across the table, the kind that made the air feel warmer even as the sun dipped lower.

  I hadn’t spent more than that night and a day with them before this, but now, with the ale in their mugs and the weight of travel eased off their shoulders, I saw pieces I’d missed.

  Tobar and Lioren had devolved into some kind of game using stones and scratched pattern on the tabletop. Tobar watched the board with utter seriousness. Lioren cheated with utter confidence. Neither seemed bothered.

  Elena, usually sharp as flint, leaned into Jaren with an ease that surprised me. Her arm slung around his shoulders, her laugh full-bodied and unguarded. Jaren looked like he’d been granted access to something rare and precious, cheeks pink as though he hadn’t yet recovered from whatever she’d said earlier.

  Harl, usually quiet and shadow-stepping, had turned into a fountain of words. Lioren hadn’t been exaggerating. Once the man had a drink in hand, he spoke like he’d been storing entire conversations for months. He hopped from topic to topic with such speed that I struggled to track half of it. At present he seemed intent on talking Darius’ ear off.

  Darius didn’t respond much. He sat steady as ever, letting Harl’s rapid-fire chatter wash over him like rain over stone.

  I took another sip of ale, letting the warmth settle low in my chest.

  Then I felt it, that tiny pull of attention across the table.

  Lioren watching me again.

  Not obvious. Just a flicker. Like a quiet question he didn’t voice.

  Fira slid into the space on my right, Elena on my left, both of them wearing expressions that were far too casual to be casual.

  “So,” Fira began, elbow nudging mine, “Rodin.”

  Elena took a sip of her drink, eyes sneaking toward me over the rim. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

  “And,” Fira added, “are you leaving in the morning?”

  The questions overlapped the same way the Brotherhood’s concerns had earlier, but this time the thread underneath didn’t seem like worry. It felt like invitation.

  I blinked at them, caught between amusement and suspicion. “You two are terrible at pretending you don’t have an agenda.”

  Elena smiled, a small, knowing curve of her mouth. “We’re just asking.”

  “You’re trying to get me to stay longer,” I said.

  Fira didn’t even deny it. She lifted her mug in acknowledgement. “Maybe.”

  They shared a look, one that would’ve been subtle if either of them were subtle people.

  I exhaled, shifting the mug between my palms. “You mentioned that the Brotherhood doesn’t stay in towns. That it’s cheaper for all of you to camp outside the villages.”

  “It is,” Fira said. “We’re posted not far from here. Good shelter. Good ground. And no innkeeper breathing down our necks about boots on the bedding.”

  Elena huffed. “One time.”

  “Mm,” Fira said. “One time so far.”

  Her tone was teasing, but I could hear the undercurrent beneath. I’m sure they wanted me nearby, and not heading off alone at dawn.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but movement at the edge of the table caught my eye.

  Lioren had leaned toward Darius, lips moving around something low enough I couldn’t catch. Whatever he said made Darius’ expression sharpen. Iven heard it too; his jaw tightened in a way that didn’t match the easy calm he’d worn all evening.

  The three of them stood. Not rushed, but with purpose.

  I watched as Darius strode a short distance away from the benches, Lioren and Iven flanking him. They spoke in low voices. What began as a few quiet words stretched on, their heads bent close in a tight circle. Tension seemed to tighten the line of Darius’ shoulders.

  Elena followed my gaze. Her brow creased. “What’s that about?”

  Fira’s mouth pressed into a think line. “Nothing good, judging by Darius’ face.”

  The conversation between the three men lasted only a moment longer before Darius and Iven walked off toward the darker side of the clearing, swallowed quickly by the lengthening shadows.

  Lioren returned alone.

  He dropped back onto the bench with a new mug in hand and smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Too stiff and too bright, brittle almost.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  But his voice didn’t carry the usual drawl.

  Fira watched him for half a breath, her eyes narrowing.

  “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, already rising. She set her mug aside and headed in the direction Darius and Iven had gone. Her pace was quick but controlled, boots whispering over the packed earth.

  Elena and I watched her go.

  Then Elena leaned closer and asked Lioren, “Why do you look like someone spit in your drink?”

  “Aye,” he said dryly, “because someone did. Your manners are atrocious.”

  Elean snorted. “If I spat in your drink, you’d thank me for improving the flavor.”

  “Maybe,” Lioren said, lifting his mug with a shrug. “Depends on the day.”

  He took a sip anyway, though the humor slid off him the moment his eyes dropped to the rim of the cup.

  I studied him quietly.

  Before I could ask anything, Fira reappeared at the edge of the clearing, her braid swinging with the force of her stride. Her expression was composed. Whatever she’d learned from Darius and Iven stayed locked behind her eyes.

  “Alright,” she announced, clapping her hands once. “Up. All of you. We’re heading out.”

  Tobar groaned but rose. Elena drained the last of her mug. Jaren scrambled after her with the eager obedience of a puppy. Iven and Darius remained nowhere in sight, but Fira didn’t seem inclined to wait for them.

  Then she turned to me.

  The shift in her face was immediate. Softer, warmer, touched with something like regret. She stepped closer.

  “You take care of yourself, alright?” she murmured. “And… you did say you weren’t planning on leaving until tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “It’s getting late, so I’ll stay here tonight and leave in the morning.”

  Fira’s shoulders eased, just a little. “Good. Then we’ll be back tomorrow to wish you well on your journey.”

  She squeezed my arm once more before stepping back to gather the others.

  She didn’t ask if I wanted to join them, and though I told myself it didn’t matter, something small inside me still felt the absence.

  “Get some rest,” she said. “And don’t let Lioren talk you into anything stupid.”

  “I never do stupid things,” Lioren said behind her.

  Fira didn’t even turn around. “You exist. That counts.”

  As the others gathered their things, the small clearing shifted with the quiet shuffle of boots and clinking mugs. Elena offered me a lopsided smile as she passed, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine. Jaren dipped his head politely as he followed after her. “Safe night, Anna.”

  “Goodnight, Jaren.”

  A few steps away, Harl had already fallen into rhythm beside Tobar, talking at a speed that suggested he’d been storing words for a week. Tobar bore it with the weary patience of a man who’d mastered the art of half-listening.

  As they passed our table, Tobar paused just long enough to jerk his chin at Lioren.

  “You coming?”

  Lioren lifted his mug. “Nah,” he said. “Still got drinkin’ to do.”

  Tobar shrugged, accepting that answer without question, and let Harl pull him back into conversation as they drifted toward the path leading out of the village.

  Fira watched the two of us for a quiet moment, her expression unreadable, then offered a small, warm, “we’ll see you in the morning,” before turning to follow the rest of the Brotherhood.

  One by one, their voices faded into the deeper dark beyond the clearing, swallowed by distance and nightfall.

  Soon, it was just the two of us, Lioren beside me, the village settling into quiet around us, and the ale cooling between my hands.

  I waited a moment before speaking.

  “What did you tell Darius?” I asked.

  Lioren blinked at me, then plastered on a grin so wide it nearly cracked.

  “Oh, you know. Confidential Brotherhood business. Highly classified. Terribly dangerous.”

  “Lioren.”

  “If I told you, I’d have to – well.” He gestured vaguely. “Do something impressive and regrettable. Probably involving Fire.”

  “You don’t Cast Fire.”

  “Aye, which is why it’d be regrettable.”

  He took a long drink to hide the crack in the joke.

  I let his deflection hang there, not fooled but too tired to pry. We stayed like that for a while, nursing what was left in our mugs, talking about nothing important. A thin cover over the tension neither of us named.

  When my drink finally ran dry, I set the mug aside and rose.

  “I should find myself an inn,” I said. “Before the last rooms are taken.”

  Lioren downed the rest of his ale in one swallow and stood as well, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Grand idea,” he said. “I’ll do the same.”

  I blinked at him. “You’re not staying with the Brotherhood?”

  He arched a brow, as if the answer were obvious.

  “Saints, love. I told you already.” He slung his satchel dramatically, nearly whacking the table. “I’m your travelin’ companion now. Congratulations. You’ve won the grand prize of my presence.”

  He started toward the lane without waiting, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world that I’d fall into step beside him.

  I hesitated for a moment, before doing exactly that.

  The night air was cool, lanterns flickering soft along the road ahead. Just two people walking toward warm beds and a roof.

  We headed deeper into the village together.