Road West of Lorianne — Morning
Damien had been studying his wanted poster long enough for Orion to finish checking both horses and start wondering whether the likeness had personally offended him.
"Are you planning on keeping that?" Orion asked, tightening a saddle strap.
"It's my first wanted poster. You don't throw away a milestone." Damien turned the paper sideways, then frowned. "Although I might find the artist and ask what I did to deserve this. Apparently becoming an outlaw ages you twenty years."
Saphira laughed from beneath a nearby tree. "Maybe they wanted you to look dangerous."
"I look like I owe somebody rent." He held up Orion's poster beside his own. "You, on the other hand, look like you haven't used a privy in a week."
Orion let go of the strap and reached for his poster. Damien promptly folded both notices behind his back.
"Give me that."
"Absolutely not. These have historical value."
"Then history can remember you getting hit with one."
Saphira's laughter faded as she looked down at the third poster, resting across her knees. Beneath her name, the notice read RUNAWAY BONDSERVANT — 50,000 GOLD.
She rubbed her thumb over the lettering, unable to smudge it.
Orion noticed and crossed the camp. "What's wrong?"
"They make it sound like I did something to him." She held the paper out. "Like Morrison had every right to keep me, and I'm the one who broke some agreement."
Damien lowered the posters. "He's hardly going to tell people what actually happened. Wouldn't do much for his reputation."
"I know. But everyone who sees this gets his version first."
Orion sat opposite her. "That doesn't make it true. You didn't owe him your life."
She looked between them, then touched the ring on her finger. "Then what am I supposed to be now? I'm not going back to Morrison or my father. But I'm traveling with you, and you gave me this."
"You're one of us," Orion said. "The ring means you're part of the group. It doesn't mean you belong to me."
"I wasn't saying—" She stopped, looking at the ring again. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"Neither do we, most mornings," Damien admitted. "You're in excellent company."
Orion ignored him. "You wanted to come with us. That was your choice. We'll work out the rest together."
For a moment she watched him as if waiting for a condition. When none came, she folded her poster and handed it to Damien.
"You might as well keep mine too."
He accepted it. "Joining the collection?"
"Historical value."
Orion grinned at the look on Damien's face. "She's fitting in already."
They stayed until the horses had eaten, watered, and rested properly. The two animals Sirven had provided after the Reaper job had carried them a long way since then, and Saphira still shared Orion's saddle. However much distance they wanted between themselves and Lorianne, neither horse deserved to be run into the ground for it.
While they waited, Damien spread Jace's list over his knee. Orion sat beside him with their remaining money, counting what they could spare after food and ammunition.
"This is the next place on the list that makes sense," Damien said, tapping Greyhaven. "Three days west at a sensible pace. It's a trade town, so travelers won't stand out quite as much."
Saphira leaned closer. "Do you know it?"
"I know the road. Never stayed there long, but the wagons stop for supplies. Places like that usually need hands."
Orion checked the name against the list. "And it gives us a chance to get ahead of the posters."
"A chance," Damien emphasized. "Paper travels too. We still keep our eyes open."
They settled on Greyhaven, then made a shorter list of what they needed there. Food, ammunition, somewhere to sleep, and work that would leave them with more money than they arrived with.
Saphira glanced down at her worn clothes. "Could we add something to wear?"
Orion looked up from the coins. "We should have put that first."
"And something you can defend yourself with," Damien added. "A knife, at least."
She glanced between them. "I thought that was why I had you two."
"You do," Orion said. "But if we get separated, I don't want you waiting for us without any way to protect yourself."
"Or waiting while I drag him out of trouble," Damien said.
Orion gave him a flat look. "You started the fight where we met."
"And look how well that turned out. Made a friend."
Saphira smiled. This time, when they prepared to leave, she folded the supply list herself and put it safely away.
Greyhaven — Three Days Later
By the time they reached Greyhaven, Orion's legs ached almost as much as if he had walked. They had stopped often enough to rest the horses, and Saphira had insisted on walking beside him during some of those breaks. When they were ready to ride again, she climbed back into the saddle behind him.
Wagons crowded the main road. Beyond a row of stables, Orion could see a blacksmith, a general store, and clothing hung outside a shop to catch passing trade. Farther down stood two taverns and an inn with clean windows.
He watched the people nearest them as they rode through. A carter glanced up, then returned to arguing over a delivery. Nobody pointed at them or reached for a weapon.
(That's a decent start.)
Damien nodded toward the inn. "We're moving up in the world. This one doesn't even have a warning about bleeding on the sheets."
"You bled on those sheets too," Orion reminded him.
"Less than you. I was a considerate guest."
Saphira laughed behind Orion, and he felt her hand tighten briefly against his coat as the horse turned toward the stable yard.
At the Hawthorne Inn, they paid for two nights and care for the horses. Orion and Damien took one room; Saphira's was across the hall. They would decide whether to stay longer once they knew what work the town offered.
Damien set his bag beside a narrow bed and tested the mattress with one hand. "Dry roof, clean sheets, and no one threatening to throw us out. You could at least pretend to be impressed."
"I'll be impressed when we've got enough work to keep paying for it."
"Then I'll find out where to look." Damien sat down and began checking his revolver, the easy grin giving way to concentration. "After we get the supplies. No sense finding a good job and discovering we haven't got ammunition for it."
Orion laid his own things on the other bed. He had started to appreciate how readily Damien could move from joking to taking something seriously. Damien was taking his place as second-in-command seriously, and Orion was glad of it.
Greyhaven — Market District
The clothing shop took longer than either man expected. Every time the shopkeeper showed Saphira another outfit, she looked toward Orion before answering.
Eventually he caught her doing it.
"You don't have to ask me. You're the one wearing it."
"I know. I just wanted to see what you thought."
He looked at the dress the shopkeeper was holding. "Can you climb onto a horse in it?"
Saphira considered the long skirt. "Probably not without falling off."
"Then start there. Pick something you like that you can actually travel in."
Damien appeared beside them wearing an enormous feathered hat. "I've found mine."
"Put it back."
"I could ride in this."
"Everyone on the road would see you coming."
"That's called making an impression."
Saphira laughed and reached past him for a white blouse.
When she emerged from behind the partition, she had chosen black shorts, a fitted white top with frilled edges and dark detailing, and a sturdy belt. She smoothed the blouse once before looking up.
"Does it look alright?"
"It suits you," Orion said.
She smiled before she could stop herself. Damien nodded his agreement, then mercifully returned the hat to its stand.
The shopkeeper brought over a pair of new boots. "These would stand up well to travel. Your heels are already showing some wear."
Saphira drew her feet back. "I'd rather keep these."
"We can afford boots if you need them," Orion told her.
"I know." Her voice softened. "But you gave me these. I want to keep them."
He glanced down at the pair he had bought in Lorianne. "Alright. We'll get them repaired when they need it."
She seemed much happier with that answer than with the promise of something new. They bought the outfit, a few practical changes of clothing, and three plain travel cloaks without any markings that would announce who they were.
At the general store, Damien studied the ammunition prices with open disapproval.
"Do the bullets come with someone to fire them for us?"
The shopkeeper folded his arms. "They come with a box."
"Generous. What if we buy two?"
"Then you get two boxes."
Orion left him to negotiate and followed Saphira toward the hunting equipment. She was looking at the bows mounted along the wall.
"I used to hunt with Cyrus," he told her. "I could teach you. It would help when we're traveling."
"I'd like that." She accepted a small hunting bow, then frowned when the string resisted her pull. "I thought the small one would be easier."
"It is. That doesn't mean it's easy." Orion stopped her before she strained herself. "We'll work on how you're holding it, and build up from there. You don't have to manage the full draw today."
They bought the bow, arrows, a quiver, and a simple fixed-blade knife with a sheath. Saphira turned the sheathed knife over in her hands while Orion explained how to wear it without catching it on her clothes.
"You'll show me how to use this too?"
"Tomorrow. Until then, keep it sheathed."
Damien joined them with the ammunition. "That's already better instruction than most people get."
"Did you get the price down?" Orion asked.
"He threw in cleaning cloths."
The shopkeeper looked over. "Because you wouldn't leave."
Damien tucked the cloths into his bag. "Persistence is a valuable skill."
Hawthorne Tavern — Evening
Damien found a card game while Orion and Saphira ordered supper. The man opposite him had weathered hands and the comfortable posture of someone who knew exactly how much of the evening he intended to spend in this chair.
By the third hand, they were talking about work.
"Warehouse loaders always need people," the man said. "Stable's short a hand a couple of days a week. Farmers post jobs too, depending on what needs doing."
Damien laid a card down. "Anything for someone who's better with a weapon than a shovel?"
"Escort board by the west stable. Pay depends on how nervous the person hiring you is."
"Anything making people nervous lately?"
"A few wagons stripped north of town. Bandits, probably. Haven't heard of anyone killed, but that doesn't make losing your cargo pleasant." He considered his cards. "You traveling alone?"
"With a couple of friends. We're looking to earn our way west."
"Watch for the merchants, then. Groups come through every two weeks or so. They always want something loaded, fetched, fixed, or guarded."
"Good people to hear about the roads from, I imagine."
The man snorted. "You'll hear about three towns you've never visited before they finish complaining about the price of oats."
Damien smiled. "I can live with that."
Across the room, Saphira watched him make the man laugh.
"He's good at talking to people," she said.
"He's had more practice than me." Orion tore a piece from his bread. "Cyrus and I usually dealt with people who already knew him."
"You could try smiling before you argue with someone."
"I smile."
"You did in the shop. You were telling Damien to take the hat off."
Orion laughed. "You're getting bold."
She smiled into her cup. "I'm getting used to being allowed to say things."
That quieted him for a moment. She noticed and nudged his boot with hers beneath the table.
"I didn't mean to make you look like that."
"You didn't." He glanced down at their feet. "I'm glad you're keeping those."
"They were the first thing anyone gave me just because I needed it." She rubbed one thumb against her cup. "I know I thanked you already. I just wanted you to understand why they matter."
"I do."
She looked at him for a moment longer. "Why did you help me? You barely knew me."
Orion leaned back. The memory of the alley dimmed his smile. "I'd already seen what happens when someone stronger decides they can do whatever they want to people. I wasn't going to watch it happen again if I could stop it."
"Even if it made things harder for you?"
"Wouldn't have made things easier for you if I walked away."
She lowered her eyes, smiling faintly. "You make it sound very simple."
"It felt simple at the time. Everything after that got complicated."
"I'm sorry."
"I meant Morrison. Not you." He waited until she looked up. "You don't owe us for helping you."
"I know," she said, and this time she managed to say it without looking away.
When Damien joined them, he brought a drink and enough information to make staying worthwhile. There was ordinary work to cover expenses, an escort board for better-paying jobs, and merchant traffic expected within a few days, though nobody promised an exact arrival.
"We could chase rumors through every town," he said, lowering his voice, "or earn some money here and hear what the people coming through have to say."
Orion thought of Malden. Every day spent loading somebody's wagon felt like a day he wasn't getting closer, but riding without a lead would only empty their pockets.
"I'm not forgetting why I left," he said.
"I didn't ask you to. We need food, ammunition, and people we can trust before we go looking for a fight like that."
Orion glanced at Jace's list tucked inside his coat, then nodded. "We stay long enough to see what comes through. Work in the meantime."
"And train," Saphira added. "I don't want you buying me all this just so I can carry it."
Damien raised his cup. "Then tomorrow we make ourselves useful."
Greyhaven Outskirts — The Following Days
Saphira's first lesson began with her new knife safely sheathed and a stick in her hand. Orion showed her where to put her feet and how to keep her wrist straight, then had her try the movement slowly.
"Don't stare at what you're holding," he said. "Watch me. You need to see what the other person is doing."
"You keep moving."
"So will they."
She tried again. When he stepped aside, she adjusted instead of continuing straight past him. He nodded, and the approval made her grip tighten with enthusiasm.
"Loosen your hand a little. You'll tire yourself out before we get anywhere."
"You have a correction for everything."
"You asked me to teach you."
"I didn't say stop."
They worked on creating distance and getting away as much as striking. When she asked why, Orion explained that the point was to get her through a dangerous encounter, not make her win every one.
"Sometimes getting everyone home is the win," he said. "Cyrus was very particular about that."
"Was he particular about everything?"
"Mostly trading, fighting, and how much his back hurt."
The bow took more patience. He helped her correct her stance and bring the string back without twisting her shoulders. Her first arrows barely traveled; later ones reached the broad practice board they had propped a short distance away. Hitting it once didn't mean she hit it the next time.
"That's normal," Orion assured her as she frowned at an arrow in the grass. "We'll keep the target close until you're consistent."
Over the following days, they fit practice around paid work. Orion took stable shifts and helped unload wagons. Damien found warehouse jobs, listened wherever he went, and practiced his Brand outside town when he could do so without drawing attention. He worked at controlling the force of a strike rather than simply throwing everything he had into it.
One afternoon, while Orion was nearby checking their supplies, a practice blow sent a dead branch flying farther than Damien intended. He stared after it, then shook his aching hand.
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
Orion set down the bag he was checking. "Glad you weren't aiming at me."
"So am I. Let's keep it that way until I've worked this out."
His evenings brought occasional winnings and one argument over a hand that he ended by leaving before it became a fight. Most nights he returned with something more useful than coins: a job opening, a road warning, or news of when the merchants might arrive.
They extended their rooms a little at a time as their earnings allowed. Between work and practice, they cleaned weapons, checked straps, and learned how much food three people actually went through.
Orion took Saphira into the woods to show her tracks and how to move without announcing herself. When he brought down a rabbit, she watched him dress it and asked enough questions that he finally handed her the knife and guided her through part of the work.
"I can do that next time," she said afterward.
"You can try. I'll be there if you need help."
She liked that answer.
Training left its share of marks: a scraped palm, a bruise from a fall, a blister she tried to conceal until Orion saw her rubbing her hand. When she let him help, he used the fiery feathers cautiously, watching how the warmth eased each injury. She had felt them before, but she still followed their movement with fascination.
The worst mishap came during footwork practice. Her boot landed awkwardly on uneven ground, and she went down with a sharp gasp.
Orion knelt beside her. "Don't try standing yet."
"I think I can—" She put weight on it and immediately stopped. "Actually, I'll stay here."
He checked her ankle, then gathered several small feathers of flame. They settled against the swelling without burning her boot or skin. Saphira let out a breath as the pain eased.
"Better?" he asked.
She carefully moved her foot. "Much better. I hate that I keep doing this."
"You're learning on uneven ground. You're going to fall sometimes." He let the last feather fade. "That doesn't mean we keep practicing on it today."
"Even after you fixed it?"
"Especially after I fixed it. Sit down and let me finish collecting the arrows."
"You're very bossy when you're worried."
Orion glanced at her, then handed her the water flask. "Drink that."
She smiled as he walked away. The warmth lingered under her skin, comfortable enough that she found herself resting a hand over the place where his feathers had vanished.
Hawthorne Inn — Night
Saphira fell asleep with her boots neatly lined up beside the bed and the bow leaning against the wall. Her muscles ached, but it was a different kind of exhaustion from the one she had known before. Tomorrow she would get up because she had things she wanted to do.
"Saphira."
She opened her eyes and lay still.
The voice had sounded close, as though someone had leaned over the pillow. She sat up and looked around the dim room. The door was shut. Nothing moved beside the window.
"Orion?" she whispered.
No answer came.
She pulled on her cloak and checked the hall. His door remained closed across from hers, and there was no one on the stairs. After listening for a while, she returned to bed.
(I must have been dreaming.)
She had worked hard that day. It wouldn't be strange to hear something in the space between sleep and waking.
Still, she left the little bedside lamp burning longer than usual.