Lachsea, Ausicaa

Kaz's mind was set like stone, like steel.

He had chosen not to contact Lady-Consort masil-Kepar, or her two men, since their ill-fated train ride. He hadn't reported back to the Lieutenant or anyone else at the Harrogye Naval Station, either. Kaz intended to remain at Miss Catannach's side, in secret, and, for the time being, let the world believe that they had both perished in the fire along with the other passengers.

By cutting all ties with his old life, Kaz knew what he would be giving up: A career in the navy. Lady-Consort masil-Kepar's trust and support. His ties to his father's title and influence. Everything he had been working towards since boyhood.

But Kaz was also aware of what he might gain: Power. Recognition. A real future as a confidant of the Princess of Zan and Levose.

If Kaz played his cards right, then, maybe, he could even become more than a confidant.

He could, in time, become Miss Catannach's lover.

Or, perhaps, her consort?

Kaz flushed slightly.

Devas take him—

The thought of bedding the pretty gray-eyed girl sent a rush of heat through his veins.

Kaz knew his choice was a risky gamble, maybe even a foolish one, but he couldn't imagine abandoning Miss Catannach to her own devices at such a crucial juncture in her journey.

Knowledge was power, and he no longer trusted anyone with it. With everything at stake regarding Miss Catannach's bloodline, even allies could become enemies in the blink of an eye. He didn't even trust Sorcha, the witch who was, presumably, Miss Catannach's beloved mentor and friend. Kaz couldn't be sure—perhaps it had been his overtired mind playing tricks—but he could've sworn that a shadow of Varles Hexwell had flitted across Sorcha's face.

There was definitely something unsettling about the witch. Kaz didn't trust her one bit. Kaz felt it in his bones.

He didn't trust anyone, in fact.

It felt imperative to keep Miss Catannach's identity and whereabouts under wraps for as long as possible.

Time was of the essence.

They would need as much time as possible to arrange themselves in a more advantageous position on this proverbial chessboard.

The perilous trek to the Zan capital would only be half the battle.

Who knew what dangers awaited them in the foreign land?

If Prince Sen Vail's palace was anything like the Iman Vatteri, then they would have more than their fair share of work cut out for them.

These troubling thoughts continued to plague Kaz's mind for quite some time. The night grew colder. Beside him, Miven and his men snored and shuffled. Kaz struggled to fall asleep.

The next morning, dim rays of light cut through the forest canopy. The chill of the air nipped bitingly at Kaz's flesh, pulling him from slumber with a dreadful shiver. As Kaz sat up from his sleeping bag, his head still felt groggy and unrested, but he forced himself to rise. He helped the others gather wood to start a fire. For breakfast, they heated up Sorcha's leftover stew from last night.

Around this time, Miss Catannach emerged from the witch's abode with Roshe at her heels. Kaz's pulse quickened as his eyes fell upon her small, slight form. A smile crept across his face. Miss Catannach looked lovely as ever, but it appeared, Kaz noted, she hadn't slept well, either. There were dark circles under her eyes.

She sat down beside Kaz as he handed her a bowl of stew. Roshe plopped down beside them with a grunt.

"Thank you," Miss Catannach muttered.

She looked troubled.

"Is everything alright?" Kaz asked.

Her gaze drifted towards the witch's house.

A frown appeared on her face. "Honestly?"

"Tell me."

"I am worried about Sorcha."

Kaz probed, "What do you mean?"

Miss Catannach paused to toss a few scraps at Roshe.

As the wolf gobbled up the bits of rabbit meat and fish, she sighed, "I fear Sorcha may be... declining."

"In what way?"

Her eyes darted this way and that in an anxious manner. "Well..."

"Well?" he urged.

"Well," her voice dropped to a hushed volume. She leaned over to inquire in whispering tones, "Have you noticed anything amiss with her personal hygiene?"

His eyebrows rose up slowly. "Her personal hygiene?"

Come to think of it, there had been some flies—

Before he could complete the thought, a blinding pain struck his temples.

Kaz drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Then, the ache dissipated as quickly as it had come, so quickly, in fact, that Kaz questioned if he had imagined it.

He blinked in confusion.

Wait.

What were they talking about again?

Something about Sorcha's hygiene?

If anything, the witch looked clean and smelled pleasant enough to him. A fresh, herbal scent seemed to follow her wherever she went. The only thing "amiss" about Sorcha was the flicker of Varles Hexwell he had spotted on her face.

He answered honestly, "I haven't noticed anything strange except—"

Another stab of pain nicked his temple, and Kaz forgot what he was about to say.

Miss Catannach eyed him with expectation, prompting, "Except... what?"

What, indeed?

Kaz couldn't remember for the life of him.

Furrowing his brow, he mumbled, "Nevermind. I was... mistaken. I suppose, I haven't really noticed anything amiss about Sorcha. Your friend is as lovely as you have always described to me."

Miss Catannach appeared surprised. "Truly?"

"Truly."

She grimaced sadly. "That is odd. I hold a differing view. I do not mean to be unkind, but, frankly, Sorcha does not smell hygienic to me. I do not think it is her fault, though. Her mind may not be as sharp as it used to be. I worry, perhaps, at her age, with no one around to care for her, she might be forgetting to bathe from time to time?"

Kaz tried to focus on what Miss Catannach was relaying to him, but he was, admittedly, distracted. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important had slipped his memory.

He frowned uneasily. "You think so?"

Miss Catannach mumbled with guilt-laden eyes, "I believe it is possible, yes. I should not have left her alone for so long..."

Kaz's expression softened at the sight of Miss Catannach's unhappiness. "Do not blame yourself. Aging is a part of the human experience, is it not? We all must falter and fail to the whims of time. At least, you are reunited with Sorcha now, and she is coming with us to Zan. I promise, we shall keep a close eye on Sorcha's well-being, together, from here on out."

Miss Catannach's gray eyes flitted towards him, brightening with hope. "You always know what to say to make me feel better. Thank you."

He bowed his head in a gentlemanly fashion. "You are most welcome." 

Kaz's gaze swept around the camp, searching for the devil herself. "Where is your witchy friend, anyway?"

Miss Catannach supplied, "She should be out soon. Sorcha told me that she needs to pack a few items for our journey ahead."

Kaz nodded. "Ah, of course."

They proceeded to make small talk with Miven and his men, finished their breakfast, and started cleaning up the camp. Miven's men readied the horses. Kaz packed up his belongings. The plan was to stop at Cronnagh, a fairly large township on the way to Levings, for supplies. Then, from the Port of Levings, they would board the next available ship bound for Zan.

Soon enough, Kaz, Miss Catannach, Roshe, Miven, and his men were ready to hit the road.

The only one who wasn't ready was the witch.

"Should we go check on her?" Kaz asked Miss Catannach.

Miss Catannach nodded and rose to her feet. "That is probably a good idea, I can g—"

Just then, the door to the hillside house swung open.

At last, Sorcha emerged from her dwelling.

Kaz immediately noticed that her appearance seemed... changed?

The witch's frailty had given way to a rosy-cheeked vigor. Her posture stood straighter, too, and the steps in her stride appeared quicker, surer.

As Sorcha sashayed closer to them, Kaz studied her more carefully.

Her wrinkles seemed to have smoothed out overnight. The witch's facial features were different as well. Individually, her eyes, her nose, her mouth were still recognizable, but, combined, they no longer looked quite as soft or feminine as before.

They appeared harder, more masculine, somehow?

Sorcha now reminded Kaz of someone else entirely.

But who?

A sickening sensation sank into the pit of Kaz's stomach.

What in Devas' eyes had he forgotten?