Toskapel's nights were marked with flamelight lanterns flickering down the established dirt roads. Every few paces, one stood on Iliya's left and then again on her right. Alternating back and forth, bleeding into the forest, and allowing the wilderness to prevail.

Zavere was wild.

Nocturnal larks called through the darkness, echoed by owls and frogs in an enchanting landscape she had never experienced before as she trailed behind Damien.

They stalked around the castle's territory before stepping deeper into the forest. Unlike Kitiribi Forest in Tae'Rainne, whose woods were lined with ever-red maple trees and vast fields and valleys, the looming pine cover could steal the starlight and offer shelter from the rain.

A perfect home for elk and fauna, also the ideal shield for Dynali runner's.

Within the first ten minutes, she recognized the path Mairin had taken when guiding her to the estate. Their trek led them to the first set of docks, where Damien kept his head down and analyzed the ground with brutal efficiency.

"Damien?"

He didn't respond.

More scraps of red fabric appeared along the shoreline, spreading between the fingers like a stretched out web.

Iliya bent to scoop up the last strip when the King paused, casting his gaze toward the horizon.

"Where were they going?" she tried again.

"The Wildlands," he muttered, crossing his arms.

His decisive posturing was so different from the loose ends floating around in her brain. Where he saw black and white, she pried into the strings and unwound a foolish world of color.

"You're sure?" she asked, brows furrowing.

Damien nodded once.

"Care to elaborate?"

Exhaling sharply through his nose, the King arched his brow at her. "This channel leads only to the Wildlands, the terrain is too rocky for any detours."

Sure enough, jagged rocks broke from the coast line ahead. Even in the darkness, Iliya saw the sharp knives of earth waiting for anyone who paddled too close. Waves beat against them, swallowing the mounds whole for a few moments before receding—each crash more volatile than the last.

The answer flooded her memory before she even managed to ask. "Dynali don't hide in the Wildlands, do they?"

The sharp angles of his jaw flexed. "No. They do not."

"Was Ashej right?"

She assumed the Chieftain wouldn't stop gloating if he knew. Something told her Damien wouldn't tolerate ridicule well.

"I don't know."

His answer was hardened with frustration, an emotion she was certain he wasn't comfortable with either.

"What should we do n—"

A sweeping shadow soared overhead, landing just behind Damien. The silhouette of a crow perching near the base of an old pine stole her vision. He preened two feathers from his sleek frame and allowed them to glide slowly to the ground before taking flight once again.

The king's lips turned upward.

"You've got a visitor."

Iliya bristled. "No one is supposed to know I'm here, how is tha—"

The King of Zavere brushed past her, grabbing her shoulder and steered them towards the docks.

There, among the torch lit pyres and crates of fish, was a tall, blond figure yanking a pack from his boat. Her heart clenched as she recognized his confident stride matched with the silver hilt of his shortsword, which flashed in the fire light each time he pivoted towards the land. Sluggish, sickly movements followed him.

Iliya took one step before turning to find Damien had disappeared into the forest. Gone.

She took the permission at face value, staggering over the first few uneven rocks until her feet hit dock once more.

Her mind rushed with thoughts that blurred together until she couldn't link them, every bit of language failing against her tongue as she pushed.

Noah straightened with the bag slung over his shoulder just in time for the ambush of her arms to lock around his waist. One minute he turned to stone, the next, he rested his chin on her head and sighed softly.

"Ills, my stom–" he paused, his voice straining. "Ah, to hels with it."

Confused and shocked, Iliya had only seconds to process as Noah's arms tightened at her back and lifted her onto her toes.

Her face wrinkled. "Hels?"

"Too much time with my cousin," he replied, setting her down. "It's good to see you, Illie."

"Likewise," she smiled. "Though I imagine you want nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget about your travels."

Noah smirked. "I'd much prefer wyving if there were another way."

Considering for a moment, Iliya glanced back to the looming pine trees fencing in the shoreline, then farther, to where Damien had disappeared. There was no trace of him, no glacial eyes watching from their shade.

He would know of another way to travel to and from Toskapel.

"How was Nynoli? You said you saw your cousin so I can only assume..."

Noah shrugged and lifted the loose strap of his pack again. "Boring, if I'm honest. Listening to what Attlis has done with the gardens might be a new form of torture."

She giggled quietly. "The gardens? He didn't give you any missives for Darkwell or convince you to come home?"

"Attlis knows I'll never return so long as my father lives," Noah answered, mouth pressing into a forced smile. "Now, let's get to the castle. I'm sure you've got loads to tell me."

~ 🔮 ~

Iliya barely managed to spare a breath as she unloaded her travels onto her now reclining friend. She left out the starving bits and focused more intensely on being stalked by Mairin and reunited with Qudja, arriving during a council meeting, and even how Damien intended to teach her new ways to control her Raesa.

She didn't think she'd have so much to say until her throat burned.

"You'd think it'd been longer than two weeks," Noah drawled, chuckling. "I'm grateful though."

"Grateful?"

"That you arrived safely, that you've found Alette's journal—very few people know what's happened to her, Iliya. Be careful."

She frowned. "Qudja said as much."

They sat alone, tucked around the fireplace in her rooms'. Iliya draped a wool blanket over her knees, leaning back against the padded leather while Noah secured the armchair.

His brown eyes constantly fixed to the flames.

He sighed and slid his attention to her.

Iliya's spine stiffened, her body locking up. She wondered if filling the silence with her nonsensical adventure was just buying time to avoid hearing about the shambles she'd left in her wake.

The questions were written all over her face.

"Sorein's fine. A nobel mess, but he's fine."

Relief eased the tension in her muscles but she couldn't relax yet. Sorein was only one of her concerns and depending on the day, a lesser one.

"No one has spoken with your mother since the incident and Ezre is too busy mitigating the damages to focus on the trial," Noah continued, twisting to face her completely. "It worked."

Iliya forced herself to nod, fingers turning the ring on her forefinger. "Rhydian?"

Her friend's expression turned grim. He shook his head and lowered his gaze back to the fire.

"How bad?"

"I'm not certain that will—"

"How bad, Noah?"

He exhaled sharply and leaned back again, his head lolling against the cushions. "You know your cousin very well. As you warned, he's become so vicious the entire guard avoids him. One minute, he's angry and drunk, the next he's hunting down the entire estate for a firsthand account of your whereabouts. Ezre's not helping."

Iliya folded her legs together, sitting upright.

Rhydian never liked to recount his memories of Tae'Rainne, nor would he answer any questions about the incident their families whispered about. He told her he'd like her growing up in a world where tragedy was only a legend. But each time an awful crime slipped over Chiori's borders, she caught him medicating.

Her frown deepened. "Does he know?"

Noah shook his head. "No, he's certain you're not in Chiori, but..."

"Noah..."

"He might be attempting to take Destry to court."

Iliya snorted. "What good could come of that? She's the Queen of an experimental country—barely able to manage her own court. A trial would do nothing without the proper evidence."

"He managed to deduce you were drugged and held against your will," Noah admitted, fighting a yawn. "If he continues down this path, he might just–"

"Wow, your family is interesting," a familiar voice droned. "My father said Chiori Faire would never stand to last, but to actually witness it."

Without turning her head, Iliya offered a tight smile to Noah. "This is Mairin. Mairin, this is Noah–"

"Whitecross, the infamous immortal," she interrupted yet again. "I've heard plenty about you."

Her short black hair was slicked wet, tucked beneath the pale green blouse she'd shoved herself into—though it arguably fit like a sack of grain. Even the brown trousers she wore draped from her thin legs.

She stood there like a child playing dress up.

"Ah," Noah said, brown eyes narrowing on her. He sat up slowly and locked his hands together. "The lousy assassin. How's your neck?"

Mairin's sly grin dropped.

"Noah!"

He rolled his eyes, lifting a brow at Damian's charge. "Iliya is kind and will take your words on the chin, because she has class. I, on the other hand, do not. I was raised with the venom that she is too polite to spew. So I suggest you mind yourself. Now. Or leave, the choice is yours."

His tone was so polite and cheerful.

Completely detached.

Ice threaded through Iliya's veins, filling her with dread as she looked at Mairin, now stammering and speechless.

She turned on wobbly legs and stalked out of the room.

"What was that about?"

Noah grinned and leaned back in the recliner, flexing like a cat. "I've seen how you handle rude people. Now you've seen how I do."

Iliya blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"The Lord of Teresii? Riven decided to publicly humiliate you and you just took it. Sorein isn't here to slit Mairin's throat and believe me, he would. But I'd rather teach you to do it with words."

"Teach me? With words?"

"There will always be villains in life, Iliya. How you choose to handle them matters. So yes, first we'll try to stop you from freezing up. But for now, tell me more about Zavere."

With her mind buzzing, she did exactly as Noah asked, even if she couldn't help checking the door.

Mairin was the least of her troubles.