If Maevus had thought Valmor was overwhelming when she was surrounded by soldiers and sitting in a guarded wagon, that had nothing on actually being on the ground. There were so many people. 

Everywhere. 

A crush of men and women, children darting around underfoot, stray dogs and cats searching for their next meal. Her skin began to crawl, her claustrophobia creeping up in an attempt to strangle her. To leave her shaking and gasping on the ground.

Sweat broke out on her forehead, her hands shaking every time a stranger brushed up against her. The sound was worse. It pressed in against her ears, making her jump at every child's shriek, every haggle of a housewife, every loud laugh.

She wasn't built for the city. It was too much. Too big. Too loud. Too busy.

Where was Vraylor? He'd been right in front of her a second ago. Maevus turned in a full circle, searching desperately for the black hat he'd been wearing. Her breath caught in her throat, her ribs squeezing down on her heart.

A hand on her shoulder made her hiss and whirl, fist raised to strike. Vraylor gave her a smirk. "Come on. I know this great little place not too far from here." At Maevus' hesitation, he added, "It's quiet. Not too many people are there this time of day."

The idea of any relief from the press of people was even more tempting than the food, and she didn't jerk away when he grabbed her hand, winding effortlessly through the streets.

After walking for an agonizing thirty minutes—and she knew he could feel every tremble that shook her—Vraylor tugged her down an alley. The buildings rose above her, blotting out the sky and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, her fingers tightening subconsciously around Vraylor's. He didn't so much as glance over his shoulder, instead reaching forward to open a door she hadn't been able to notice.

Maevus balked at the dark interior, but Vraylor said, "We'll sit right by the door. You can bolt on out any time the notion strikes you."

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to puff her chest and proclaim that it wasn't necessary. But she couldn't when his words brought a rush of relief so intense it nearly made her knees buckle. So, swallowing her trepidation, she ducked through the low doorway and blinked as she waited for her eyes to adjust.

Vraylor slid past her and wove between the rough-hewn wooden tables with their mismatched chairs. He raised a hand in greeting to the woman behind the bar. The woman was older than Vraylor, her golden hair streaked with grey, crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and laughter lines around her mouth 

She didn't even look up from the glass she was cleaning when she said, "Hello, Trouble."

Vraylor leaned against the bar and grinned, his teeth a delighted gleam in the golden light coming from the lanterns hung around the place. "Last week it was 'Handsome'."

"That was before you started that brawl!" she squawked, slamming the glass down on the counter, just to snatch up another one to start scrubbing. "I was shut down for two days afterward getting everything straightened up!"

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Vraylor said, "Technically, I didn't start it. And I did pay for the damages."

"With the bet money you won," she returned dryly. "The idea is to not drive the tourists off, Mer."

Maevus sank into a nearby chair, frowning at the exchange. Brawls? Bets?

Mer?

Vraylor chuckled and said, "Would you believe me if I said I'll keep the brawling to a minimum?"

"No!" The woman sighed, giving him a droll stare that soon enough melted into a warm smile. "But I suppose that's part of your charm." 

Vraylor gave her another roguish grin before he said, "I don't suppose I can get two bowls of that chili I smell cooking back there?"

Maevus watched in amusement now as the woman patted his cheek. To her surprise, the woman looked up and winked at her. "The boy's part bloodhound. And he's always hungry, so I hope you know how to cook."

It took a moment before the woman's meaning sank in, and Maevus turned bright red. Vraylor snorted before he turned from the bar to make his way back to the table right by the still-open door.

He sank into the chair across from her. Maevus didn't dare meet his gaze. Her face was still blazing with heat after the woman's assumption about her relationship with the master.

Relationship. Now Maevus snorted. There was no relationship. They weren't even friends.

"You don't like feeling trapped."

The observation startled her out of her embarrassment. "What?" she whispered, looking up at him.

Vraylor had his elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his palm. "It's not that you're scared of enclosed spaces. You just hate the idea of being trapped. That's what scares you."

Her mouth gaped open before she snapped it shut. Then she rolled her eyes. "Well who likes to feel trapped?"

With a shrug, Vraylor said, "Some take to it worse than others. From the way you were shaking out there, I'd venture that you don't take to it at all." His eyes narrowed. "It's hard to have that kind of hate on you unless you know what it feels like to be locked up."

Maevus looked down, sitting back in her chair in an effort to get away from that piercing gaze. She rasped, "You said we were going to talk about why staying here isn't as bad as I think. So start talking."

"Eat first. You'll be more likely to hear me with a full belly," Vraylor said. As if by magic, the tavern's owner appeared with two steaming bowls on a tray.

Maevus' mouth watered at the savory smell and she snatched up the spoon. She barely managed a 'thank you' before she dug in. The mix of beans and beef with green chilies and whatever spices the woman had added warmed her down to her core. She nearly wanted to moan in delight. It had been far too long since she'd had such a delicious meal. 

It was with disappointment that she scraped the bottom of the dish. Then she leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh, a hand on her full belly. Vraylor caught her eye and grinned around his own mouthful of food.

"Gella's cooking is the best in town," he said before taking another bite. With a small laugh, he said, "Tastes just like home."

Maevus bit down on her curiosity.

After a moment, Vraylor asked, "Where do you call home?"

A moment of heavy silence pressed down on her. Anger and sadness bubbled in the pit of her stomach, making her suddenly nauseous. "No where," she finally managed. "My family were nomads."

The way his eyes flashed up, she knew he could tell she was lying. 

"Did you ever want a place to call home?"

That surprised her more than anything he had said so far. Before she could respond, he said, "A guild is a sort of home, Maevus. One where you can come and go as you please."

She desperately tried to squash the spark of hope that flared suddenly in her heart.

Vraylor sighed, pushing his bowl away. "Let me explain something to you. And listen closely."

Maevus nodded, the gravity of his words carried by his deep voice.

"This new queen," he glanced around, making a chill shiver up Maevus' spine, "she wants Encants pinned in. Wants 'em under her thumb so she can control them."

"I know that already," Maevus tried, but Vraylor hissed at her to listen.

He crossed his arms. "What she can't control... doesn't stay around for long. I get it, kid. I do. You were out there and that's where you were content to be. But now you're here. Valmor is a lot more dangerous than it used to be, and you're going to need friends in this city."

"Is that what you're offering to be?" She scoffed. "My friend?"

"If you'll let me," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "And at the risk of sounding like a swollen-headed son of a bitch, there ain't many friends better than me."

Maevus' brow furrowed.

Vraylor gave her a rueful smile. "I'll do what I can to keep you safe and free, Maevus. But you're going to have to extend a hand too. Is that something you think you can make happen?"

All she could do was stare. She couldn't find an answer.