I don’t understand what he’s doing here.

  But I understand his face easily enough—the slackening of his shoulders, the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  Relief. Clear as day.

  His mouth moves before his thoughts catch up, a smile creeping up his cheeks. The sharp line of his Altari ears frames it—unchanged, unmistakable, as familiar to me as the smile itself.

  Then his gaze snaps away, sharp and sudden, lifting toward Ulric. He straightens and steps forward, extending a hand.

  “Captain Ulric Tarn. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Then he notices the furniture.

  The sofa. The desk.

  The absurdity of the moment hits him all at once. His hand falters, retracting halfway.

  “…Could I assist you? We could speak afterward.”

  Awkward. Polite.

  Same old Til—always trying to be helpful, never quite noticing when he’s in the way.

  Ulric glances at me, then back at him, giving a quick shake of his head.

  “Just some light exercise,” he says easily. “You got here fast—efficient. We like that around these parts.”

  Til relaxes, a gentler smile settling in place as he turns to face the group properly.

  “Tilemachos Pelagon. Shield Captain.” A beat. “I look forward to working with all of you.”

  Murmurs ripple through the crowd—but no one offers names in return. The unaddressed tension hangs thick between us.

  “You must be tired,” Til continues, turning back to Ulric. “I appreciate the time, but I have one last request.”

  Ulric nods casually.

  “May I have your permission to borrow a member of your squad, Captain Ulric?” Til asks, earnest to a fault.

  Ulric’s jaw slackens—caught off guard by both the request and the courtesy.

  “…You may, Captain,” he replies after a moment, the words sounding strange on his tongue.

  Til approaches me without another word.

  He always did that. No questions. No warning. Like I’m supposed to keep up.

  Veil reaches over and takes the chair from my arms.

  “We got you, cove,” he says easily. “We’ll put everything where it ought to go.”

  He flashes me a grin, but I can feel the stares boring into my skull.

  I take the opening.

  I go.

  Til falls into step beside me, matching my pace with practiced ease. Behind us, Chariot’s voices blur into a low murmur.

  Gods. I can’t tell if this made things better—or worse.

  “You look good,” he says quietly, breaking the silence.

  My smile is tired, but real enough. I nod.

  “You too. I like the new hair. The buzzcut made you look too much like a dockworker.”

  He laughs—genuine, unrestrained.

  “I passed a good tavern on the way in,” he says. “Mind if we sit and talk? I’ve been on the road nearly a week. I’d kill for a proper meal.”

  “Well,” I reply, not entirely displeased, “you already know more good taverns than I do.”

  We move against the flow of the street, conversation faltering as we weave through unfamiliar paths. This time, I don’t have anyone who knows how to part the city for me.

  Eventually, we reach the tavern.

  The interior is calm—low chatter, no music. The lunch rush long gone; too early for the after-work crowd.

  Til pulls out a chair and waits for me to sit before taking his own.

  Yeah.

  Same old.

  Silence stretches between us.

  We both have questions. Too many.

  None of them easy.

  “So… the Valiants,” he says at last, waving a waitress over for menus. “I’m surprised.”

  He leans forward as he talks.

  “I wasn’t expecting to be here. I spent months at sea after leaving the Seekers—only been back on land for two weeks. I thought I’d join a caravan as a guard, look for something stable, and then…” He exhales softly. “Just as I reached the waystation between here and Faros, the offer came.”

  He slides the menu toward me after a glance.

  “Anything you want.”

  “I ate not too long ago,” I reply awkwardly. “With my squad.”

  As if summoned by the thought, I feel it—presence. Two people entering behind me. They keep their distance.

  Cinna.

  Cattleya.

  Please.

  My hands clench beneath the table.

  “Chariot squad,” Til continues, oblivious. “I’m impressed. The Valiants have an excellent reputation—disciplined, safe. They prioritize their own. I’m genuinely glad to be here.”

  I shrink back slightly in my chair.

  “Til…”

  He leans back at once, attentive. Patient.

  “Why,” I ask carefully, keeping my voice level, “did you vanish? Were you… upset with me?”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Worry creases his brow. His mouth opens—then closes again as the waitress returns. He places his order politely before turning back to me, more serious now.

  “I heard about what happened after I left,” he says. “But none of my choices were because of you.”

  He says it gently.

  The words land hard.

  I was never a factor.

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

  “You remember what I told you about my father?” At my nod, he continues. “He got worse. Worked himself half to death. Refused to take an apprentice. I hired two anyway—and to keep him in place, I ran his trade routes myself.”

  At sea.

  All that time.

  “It took months to find someone I trusted to captain his ship,” he continues. His jaw tightens. “By the time I returned, I heard what happened. I tried to get my job back.”

  A pause.

  “The company was already gone.”

  “…I’m sorry.”

  “You vanished,” I say quietly. “So I tried… getting closer to the others.”

  His hand tightens against the table, guilt flashing in his eyes.

  Shame drags my gaze down.

  That alone makes me feel worse.

  This wasn’t what I wanted.

  I look up and force my usual smile. My body resists it, like it knows better.

  “I met good people,” I say. “You saw them, right? Things have been…”

  My smile fractures.

  “…good.”

  The word leaves me in a breathy whisper—a lie, and I know it.

  But when I look at him, I see relief.

  He always believed me. Never caught sarcasm. Honest to a fault.

  Painfully so.

  “How is she?” he asks, casual—like he’s checking on an old acquaintance.

  His meal arrives. The waitress pours him wine; he insists she pour me a glass as well.

  …I’m grateful for that.

  “You told me once,” he continues, already rambling. “I’ll be honest—I never quite understood it. Not because I didn’t want to. Life just gets… busy. So many missions, so little time.” He cuts into his meat—then pauses. “I’m sorry—what was her name again?”

  There’s no cruelty in it. Just absence.

  I lift my glass, palm raised dismissively as I take a sip.

  “…I’m Imone. We’re just Imone,” I say gently. “Thanks, Til—but you don’t need to worry about that.”

  My smile comes easier this time. Less brittle.

  “…Is that so?” he murmurs. “I still remember the conversations I had with her about the nature of Vire.”

  He leans forward, peering into my eyes like he’s searching for someone else, raising a hand in a small, tentative wave.

  I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Have you kept up with your studies?” I ask, steering us away. “After you left, I made a lot of progress on my thesis. I’m hoping to continue it—thinking of hiring a courier to the Lyceum.”

  His eyes stay on his plate. Hunger wins. He shrugs.

  “No time,” he says. “Any downtime I had on the ship, I spent trying to rest. After that—it was marching from dawn to dusk.”

  He focuses on his meal, suddenly aware he’s taken too much of my time.

  “Well… you should have more now, right?” I say lightly. “Captain.” I let the word tease. “Some days will be busy, but others…”

  I shrug.

  He looks up, smile brightening as he sits straighter.

  “We’ll see.”

  The smile is blinding.

  Silence settles again.

  Uncomfortable.

  Then I tense.

  They’re here.

  They approach… and then pass, leaving through the door without a word.

  I let out a slow breath.

  Relief.

  Til finishes his meal quietly, washing it down with wine. My own glass remains half-full.

  “Dessert?” he offers. “I saw they had cakes.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, lifting a hand. “You can order if you want.”

  “No, no sweets for me,” he laughs, already calling the waitress over.

  He counts out the coins carefully. Exact change. Always exact change. Like order itself is something you can get right, if you’re careful enough.

  His lips move faintly as he works it out.

  Then that smile—he’s solved it.

  “Shall we?” he asks. “I’d like to speak with Captain Ulric. And I still haven’t properly met Captain Saria.”

  I nod, and we rise.

  The walk back to the tower is silent.

  I swallow every remaining word before it can escape.

  I don’t need more answers.

  It doesn’t matter anymore.

  We enter together. My ears catch a voice drifting up from below.

  “Ah… the Black Lancers are at the bar. You should find Saria with them—down that way.”

  I gesture toward the stairs. He’s already heading there.

  “Thanks,” he says brightly. “It’s good to see you, Imo.”

  I flinch.

  I close my eyes.

  Three letters—heavy as a blow.

  I draw a slow breath.

  And turn toward the stairs leading up.

  Numbness settles in. Too many emotions, nowhere to put them.

  By the time I reach my floor, even sadness feels like effort. My gaze drifts to my door, unfocused.

  I just want to sleep.

  I want to stop existing—just for a while.

  I open the door and—

  The sight hits me like a shot to the chest.

  Warmth spreads through me instantly, my feet carrying me inside before I consciously decide to move.

  My desk—set up properly. The mirror fixed in place. A bookshelf beside it, already filled with tomes I don’t remember owning.

  Everything clean. Dusted. Polished.

  A neat stack of papers waits where my hands would naturally reach. An inkpot. A fountain pen I never got around to buying. And a plate of sweets.

  Lemon bars.

  Did they…?

  Movement catches the edge of my vision.

  Cattleya stands inside my room, silent. Watching me.

  Her gaze is sharp. Focused. Waiting.

  I open my mouth—but nothing comes out.

  She hesitates—just a fraction—then closes the distance in a heartbeat, seizing my wrists with crushing certainty.

  “Wh—Cat?”

  I can’t pull free. She’s stronger. I back away, and she moves with me until my spine meets the wall.

  Her stare is intense—piercing—and beneath it, unmistakably hurt.

  “Don’t join the Shield,” she says—too fast, like the words escaped before she could stop them.

  The words land like a plea.

  “Wh—” My thoughts stumble. I don’t understand.

  “Don’t leave the Chariot,” she says again, quieter now. “Please.”

  “Cat…” I lower my voice, forcing it steady. “What made you think—”

  “Then you won’t?” Her grip tightens. She looks up at me, searching. “You promise?”

  “I’m… I’m not going anywhere,” I say.

  The words sound hollow even to me.

  She hears it.

  Her hands tighten.

  “You promised you would tell me,” she says. “I didn’t tell anyone what happened.”

  Her jaw tightens, like keeping that secret hurt.

  Right.

  I did promise.

  “…Everyone is worried,” she continues. “They think you’ll leave. We went out again—bought things we thought you’d like,” she says, uncertain. “That’s… what you do.”

  Her voice wavers.

  “Don’t leave.”

  Something inside me cracks.

  My jaw clenches. My eyes burn.

  Oh no.

  “We have a promise,” she says softly. “So I— I won’t tell—”

  Her words break off.

  Tears spill before I can stop them.

  She releases me. My legs give out, and I sink to my knees.

  I cover my face, shaking. I try to stop it—but it keeps coming, heavier with each breath.

  Gods, I’m a mess.

  I can feel her still there. She hasn’t moved away.

  After a moment, she kneels in front of me, watching with careful, uncertain concern.

  I can’t look at her. Not like this. I want to disappear—to fold in on myself until there’s nothing left to see.

  A palm rests gently on my head—careful, like she’s afraid of doing it wrong.

  I freeze.

  And then the tears break loose completely.

  I press my hands to my mouth, but the sounds won’t stop. It’s like her touch unlatched something I’d sealed shut—everything spilling out at once.

  Her hand moves slowly, soothing. Grounding.

  She shifts closer. Her shoulder brushes mine.

  She stays tense, even then.

  Time blurs.

  No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop crying.

  …Until exhaustion finally claims me.