The second they arrived home, Sorrel was ambushed by his parents. It came as no real surprise. Given how close an eye they kept on the girl, it seemed unlikely that she'd ended up wandering town with their permission.

Still, the knowledge that she'd likely run off, leaving them worried and searching for her, did nothing to ease the indignation that swelled in his chest as his mother frantically peered past his shoulders. Sorrel gestured behind him with a half-hearted roll of his eyes.

"She's alive and unharmed."

"Thank the gods," his mother replied as Rhom ducked around them to inspect the girl.

"I didn't lie," Sorrel commented dryly.

His father paused, before looking appropriately abashed. "I know. It's...the circumstances are just--"

"--special," his mother provided. "We just have to be careful."

"Because of the general," Sorrel guessed.

His mother seemed to hesitate, before nodding. "Amongst other reasons."

She stepped past him as the last word fell from her lips. Her shoulders held a heavier tension than his father's. Sorrel watched as she approached the girl, before kneeling down. Smoke curled around the elemental in a thicker black than it'd appeared in the weeks before Sorrel had left. His mother offered a thin smile. Even he could tell it sprung not from a place of relief, but anxiety.

"I'm not mad," she said. Her voice was quiet and slow. Soothing, even. "Just...relieved. It scared me when you disappeared."

So, he'd guessed correctly. She had run off. Why?

"In the future, tell me if there's something you're interested in while we're out," his mother continued. "We can go look at it together."

She must have assumed that the girl had run off to investigate a shop or something. Sorrel decided to correct her when they were alone. The fact that her path had ended in Aarin sending him out to escort her home told Sorrel that something else had to have caught her attention. The market was a good walk from the tower.

Perhaps it would be better to push Aarin for more details before he worried his mother. He held back a sigh. His former classmate was far from commutative these days. Would he even give an answer?

As he lost himself in his thoughts, the girl frowned. Seeming to perceive it as an argument, his mother pressed forward.

"I know you might be used to doing things differently--but, here, we want to know where you are. That way, if something bad happens, we'll be able to handle it. As it is, we were moments from contacting the general. It's why I returned home. Once we did, Allura would have had the entire city on lookout. That would have been scary, right?"

Silence fell between them, before the girl offered a slow nod.

"Right. So, avoiding that would be best, wouldn't it? And, don't worry. I won't keep you from doing what you want to do as long as it isn't dangerous. So, don't run off and everything will work out."

The smoke faded, which Sorrel's mother seemed to take as a silent agreement. She stood, smiled, and offered a soft thanks. He couldn't shake a certain degree of unease, however, even as he trailed his family into the kitchen at his mother's request.

There'd been the faintest hint of something else in the girl's expression as his mother gently scolded her. And, after witnessing so many new faces from her, Sorrel was moderately certain he could identify the emotion.

Refusal.

He would have groaned at the realization if his parents wouldn't have questioned him.

Sorrel had the distinct impression that the next time the opportunity arose--when whatever had captured her attention appeared once again--the girl would follow it without question.

He could only hope Aarin would be there, again, to call whomever was closest to her side. And that nothing horrible would happen before they arrived.

꧁༺ ༻꧂

Moonlight drifted past dangling curtains, illuminating Camilla's figure with a soft glow. The mage's gentle hands pulled the girl's blanket to her chest, before ghosting over the top, smoothing out any existing wrinkles.

No matter how much time had passed--how many times they had performed the same night-time ritual, she found it odd how comforting the repetition had become. The moment Camilla would peel back the blanket before ushering the girl onto the soft mattress, previously non-existent exhaustion would flood her body. Even if it never resulted in sleep overtaking her with ease, the sleepiness itself was enough to almost unnerve her.

"Would you like me to tell you a s--" Camilla began.

"Um," Sorrel interrupted, before clearing his throat.

The girl sat half-way up, causing the blanket to tumble off her chest. Camilla's lips twitched, but she didn't protest as the girl peered past her. Sorrel stood in the entrance to her room, a dark blue book clutched in his hands. His face flooded with color the second their eyes met.

"I--well, that is..."

Camilla laughed, which only seemed to deepen his embarrassment. "Is that a children's book?"

'Is that why it looks so different?' the girl wondered. It was more of a square than a rectangle and thinner than any novel she'd seen before. While she pondered the issue, Sorrel nodded and stepped further into the bedroom.

"I thought...well, earlier, she said she couldn't read and chapter books aren't a good place to start," he mumbled.

Camilla rose a brow. "You want to teach her to read before bed?"

"Ah--no, I mean, yes teach her, but not right now," he explained. "That's just why it's a kid book. I just--you told dad, before, that it takes awhile for her to fall asleep. And I thought, well," his eyes skipped to where she sat. "I thought she might rest easier if I read to her, is all. She doesn't have to learn it now. And, um, maybe learning would be easier if she was familiar with the book to begin with."

Her eyes widened, surprise and wariness flooding through her in equal measure. He wanted to teach her to read?

The Watcher had always said she didn't need to know it. That he could read anything she couldn't understand to her without trouble. The only letters he'd shown enough for her to recognize had been the ones for his name. 'So you can recognize something is from me.'

After teaching her the two characters for his name, and the one for his title, he'd tested her repeatedly. Papers would be left around her quarters and if they had his words on them, but she didn't take them to someone to be read to her, then she got in trouble. She shuddered at the memory, pressing her back against her headboard. Camilla's eyes flicked to her. Whatever she saw in her face must have upset the mage, because she frowned, before looking at Sorrel.

"I think it's a good idea," she replied softly, then shifted her gaze to the girl once again. "As long as she agrees to it. What do you think? Do you want him to read you a story? It's fine if you don't. I can tell you a tale as I always do."

She had a choice?

Hesitation warred with rapidly darkening memories as smoke curled beneath the blankets. She found herself grateful that they couldn't see it--even she was only aware of her magic's movement through the unconscious escape of her mana. Her eyes focused on the book clutched in his fingers, then shifted to Sorrel himself. Oddly enough, his anxiety soothed her own.

Sorrel wouldn't hurt her.

Ever since she'd come to Whistrial, he had taken time to teach her what she didn't know. He would wear a warm smile and--when she occasionally grew nervous--a soft voice. Was there really a reason to say no with everything she'd seen from him?

He wasn't the Watcher.

She offered a slow nod and was rewarded with Sorrel's nervous smile melting into a bright grin.

"Then, I'll leave you two be," Camilla said.

With a slow movement--most likely meant not to scare her--she lightly touched the girl's shoulder. Understanding brushed her mind and she followed the silent instruction to lay back down. Camilla smiled, before replacing the blanket, smoothing her hand over the edge once again, and moving away from the bed. At the door, she paused to murmur something into Sorrel's ear. His face flushed, and with a soft laugh, Camilla disappeared.

"It's nothing," he said in response to the questioning look the girl gave him.

Deciding to allow the subject to drop, she stayed still and watched as he grew closer to the bed. Once at her side, he paused and raised his hand to his chin, before curling his pointer finger over his lips.

"A chair..." he mumbled.

Confusion swept through her, but as per usual, she didn't question him. A second later, Sorrel seemed to make up his mind. He patted the edge of her bed, just beyond the edge of her pillow.

"Mind if I sit here?"

She frowned. It would put them closer than she allowed most people to come. If he sat there to read, she would have to reign in her instinctive response, as the smoke might make it hard for him to read. But, then again, perhaps it was a chance.

As she had thought earlier--Sorrel wasn't going to hurt her.

He'd had more than enough chances. And if there was a reason for him to go so far as to trick her, then hurt her, there was nothing she could do, whether he was allowed to sit close to her or not.

Because...she'd already decided to trust him.

So, once again, she offered a slow agreement. He beamed, before taking up a perch on the corner of her mattress. His legs dangled over the side of the bed and his back settled, at an angle, against her headboard. Then, without further ado, he laid the book over his lap and began flipping through the first pages.

"Okay, let's see. I think--" he paused on a mostly blank page. A handful of characters were printed across it, but nothing she could recognize. "--I should start with the title. It's called, 'The Midnight Princess.' The author is Lady Consort, River Dawn."

He flipped the page, causing her interest to instantly deepen. She hadn't realized there would be pictures. If that was the case, even she could follow along.

"In the far, far away kingdom of Stell, there lived a young princess, Elysia."

Sorrel trailed a finger over elaborate characters as he spoke, pulling her attention from the depiction of a large building that stretched over the next page.

"Elysia was a very special princess. She knew this because she was the only one who got to live in the whole palace."

He flipped the page, revealing another intricate picture. As soon as the page was settled, Sorrel pointed to the center of it. "That's Elysia, there."

The princess--whatever that was--was shown in a dark hallway. Yellow moonlight cast transparent waves across her lonesome figure. Silver curls cascaded down her back, the same bright shade as her eyes. The girl leaned forward to point at them and Sorrel grinned.

"Her eyes? Are you wondering why they're like yours?"

She nodded. Roan had called them unnatural and the Watcher had always told her they were a sign of the Circle's favor. So, why were they on Elysia?

"Her eyes are why I picked this one," Sorrel explained, pride sweeping through his voice. "The author, Consort River Dawn, is an elemental, like you. I thought you might prefer a fairytale by one of your own. She's not--" he seemed to hesitate, eyes sweeping over the girl. "--completely like you. Like her name implies, she's a water elemental, but I don't know any famous children's authors from fire or air. Anyways. Princess Elysia is an air elemental. That's what silver eyes mean."

An air elemental?

She opened her mouth, the familiar urge to question Sorrel hanging on the tip of her tongue. What did it mean to be an elemental? Was it different from being a monster? The title felt familiar--yet wrong--and the longer she rolled it about in her thoughts, she realized it was because she'd heard it applied to her before. Back in the earliest recesses of her memory, He had talked frequently about such things.

"It would seem this one didn't fail. Looking like that, the air elemental magic took."

"But the hair--"

"--one step at a time. It would be a miracle if we'd made the impossible, possible, on the third go. Escort the child back and--"

She shook her head, shoving the memory back into the shadows where it belonged. Her desire to know more dissipated and she leaned forward to turn the page. Sorrel raised a brow, but didn't question her, instead choosing to lift his thumb to make it easier.

"Onward, then," he mused.

꧁༺ ༻꧂

"Have you seen Sorrel?"

Camilla pulled her attention from the files sprawled over her desk. The reflexive urge to flip the folder shut--hiding the student profiles displayed within as a result--flicked through her. She trusted her husband, but work habits always followed her home. Camilla had been a mage for far longer than she had been a wife.

"Around an hour ago," she replied. A glance over her shoulder revealed Rhom in her office door. "Why?"

He ran a soot stained hand through his hair. "Sir Ophir was just here. He had news regarding their next mission. Left after he realized I'd just gotten back myself and had no clue if Sorrel was home or elsewhere."

Uneasiness swept through her. There were very few reasons for Sorrel's mentor to be searching for him at such a late hour. Typically, he would have sent a mana summons in the morning.

"...I'll go let him know," Camilla replied.

'The mission has to be dangerous.' It would be better that the news came from her, a mage, instead of Rhom, an enchanter. He might have his assumptions about what such a visit could mean, but he wouldn't know for certain.

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. His hand fell away from his hair, leaving a trail of black on his cheek. "They wouldn't send him..."

Camilla grimaced. The request for reassurance in his unfinished question was obvious. She wished she could say no, that the tower--that Allura--would never send their fourteen year-old son to war, but she had never been in the habit of lying to her husband.

"It would be better not to speculate," she said instead. "We won't know the truth until after they meet."

Rhom's expression darkened, obviously hearing the unspoken behind her words. He didn't protest, however, instead leaning his back against the doorframe, weariness wearing away his usual smile.

"The imperial palace has sent another order," he murmured. "Two new mithral blades, one for the commander, another for the military general; three mana necklaces, separated for the crown prince, the saintess, and the Kazin head; and five barrels of enchanted explosives."

The news settled like an anchor in her chest. Ice curled through her veins as she stood, slowly flicking her file closed. The faces of her apprentices stared at her in her mind.

"Don't worry about what is to come," she urged him. Her feet took her across the office even as her thoughts filled with potential futures--of bloody children, burning forests, and imperial orders. "The tower will do as it has always done--protect its mages to the best of its ability. We must trust the general."

Rhom's eyes searched hers as she joined him at the door. He pushed off the frame, hand moving to touch her, before he caught sight of it and sighed. Camilla laughed, catching his still hand and pressing it to her cheek.

"We will be fine," she said.

"...I hope so."

They stayed still for a moment longer, taking comfort in the shared moments of silence, before Camilla pulled away.

"I'll get Sorrel."

Rhom didn't stop her, but also didn't move out the door as she slipped past him. Down the hall, she knocked on his door. A frown tugged her lips as seconds ticked by and he didn't answer.

"That's why I came to you," Rhom commented.

She slipped the door open revealing an empty room. The night's earlier events unfurled in her mind, and with a bit of hesitation, she stepped over to the girl's room. She didn't knock--not wanting to wake the child if she'd fallen asleep--instead peeking it open just an inch. The sight that Camilla found seemed to pull away the knots clogging her chest.

"...Rhom."

"Hm?"

He came to her side, staring into the small room from over her head. The soft chuckle that followed was accompanied by the faintest of squeezes on her shoulder.

"Ophir can wait until morning," he whispered.

Camilla agreed silently, laying her head against the doorframe. There wasn't a single part of her that desired to wake Sorrel. He could be a mage in the morning.

Until then, she would let him sleep against the girl's headboard, with the skittish elemental curled into his side. They looked like a family.

Even a declaration of war couldn't have ordered her to tear them apart.