Still chuckling, she took his spot at the railing. The trees and overgrown shrubbery along the wall were still. She looked down, searching the length of the wall before looking up to scan the trees again. In the distance she could hear crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl, but nothing moved otherwise. All was well. Still, she scoured the surrounding forest, first one way, then the other. Back and forth until she was sure she'd go mad. Then finally, three short whistles, and she was walking.
She hugged the inner wall as she walked, moving right along the curve. The upper walkway wrapped the camp in a circle. Every few paces, little wooden stations sat perched like birdhouses, cords dangling inside that would ring the bells overhead at the first sign of trouble. Too few people to fill them, too many gaps. She passed four before Sol's tall shape appeared ahead. His copper skin glowed faintly under the moonlight as he nodded in greeting, already gone again before she could return it. The silence swallowed him whole.
Her boots tapped a steady rhythm against the stone. She knew this path too well by now. Too many shifts, too many nights. Part of her was proud of it—the platform was hers in a way it wasn't for the others. Another part knew the truth: she was overcompensating. Trying to prove that she wasn't useless just because she lacked magic. If she had to sacrifice sleep and comfort to show she belonged here, then fine. They didn't have to assign her the shifts. She'd keep showing up until they couldn't deny her. And it was working, maybe. Godram wasn't grumbling as much these days. That had to mean something. Acceptance, or desperation; it didn't matter which. Either way, she was carving out a place. The thought coaxed a smile to her lips as her eyes skimmed the trees again.
In two hundred steps, she would reach her favorite spot. She didn't need to count—her body knew the distance by heart. There, the forest thinned for a precious moment, and she could catch a glimpse of the sea. Tonight, the moonlight would scatter silver across the waves, and the salt breeze would lift her hair. Just thinking of it quickened her pace—though she forced herself to look steady, deliberate, like she was still sweeping the trees with care. She had trained herself to move slow. But she may have cheated, letting her stride lengthen just enough—until the next call cut across the night and brought her to the opening.
With a sigh, she leaned on the railing. Below, the cliff face slept untouched, shadows pooled at its base. Beyond it, the water stretched endless, a great black sheet kissed by silver light. She drank it in. For a heartbeat she was a child again, standing beside her family as the ship carried them toward Tear. She'd only been their once before the fall. She remembered being overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and sensations that greeted her when they stepped off the boat.
Tear was a masterpiece of architectural beauty. Buildings of all shapes and sizes lined the streets, adorned with vividly painted facades and intricate mosaics. The streets were bustling with activity, and the sound of laughter and music filled the air. Street performers entertained passersby, while vendors sold delicious, exotic foods from colorful carts. She could still smell the freshly baked pastries and spicy curries from Bjurn.
Before the fall, there had been parades and festivals. The streets lined with colorful banners and decorations, and every corner seemed to host a different celebration. Because Tear was a mixing bowl, filled with a dozen different cultures. Or it had been.
Oriana turned away from the cliff side and stretched, rubbing her arms for warmth. Slowly, the sun descended, and the moon rose overhead. She sank down to the platform and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them for warmth. She should have changed. Even with Erik's clothes, her soaking wet tunic, paired with the high winds, were a sure way to end up sick. A few of their people could heal, but only Bradan had a talent for it, and he nagged incessantly. She didn't want to see him if she could avoid it.
She stayed that way until her bones ached. Then she stood, shook out her limbs, and walked back and forth across the platform. Eyes straining in the dark, she continued watching, struggling to keep her mind from straying. The party would be underway by now. She could almost hear the drums, she thought. But that was foolish. They were so far underground that the sound couldn't carry this far.
She hoped they were having fun, and that tiny little Evander with his big brown eyes was getting all of the attention he deserved. She didn't think she was biased when she said he was the greatest baby to ever be born. One only had to look into his sweet, chubby face and know he was destined for greatness. Oriana pressed her face into her hands and sent a silent prayer out to the Saints that his path be clear and his future bright. They might ignore her, but maybe they'd see his fat cheeks and have pity.
Oriana lifted her head and stared at the trees, wondering again, what it would be like to be married. To have a family that was truly her own. Not that Jonna and Estia weren't enough. They were everything. But the people who shared your blood were significant. How she longed for stories of the people who came before her. Were they brave and heroic? Or ruthless and cunning? Did she come from criminals or murderers? The story of how one came to be was the most beautiful gift you could give a child. But all she had was the river. And though she wanted everything that came afterward to be enough, it wasn't.
Being married would give her the beginning of her own story. A story she could tell her children, and they tell theirs. The idea sounded beautiful and exhausting. Their life was difficult on the best days. To constantly be on the run, never knowing where their next meal would come from or if it would come at all. It wasn't something she would wish on a child. But if they were no longer hunted? She could have a little yellow house like her Uncle, with a big kitchen and a yard to chase her children in. Her baby could sleep without fear, and every night she and her husband would curl up together on the sofa and watch the fire burn. They'd laugh at each other's jokes and exchange kisses in the dark.
Oriana stood up straight, grasping for the thought like her life depended on it. It was so familiar. Like a painting, frozen in time. Where had she seen it? Where had it come from? A woman with brown hair braided over her shoulder and a large man with fiery red hair holding her in his arms as they laughed. Was it a memory? Or just another fairy tale she'd concocted in her head?
"I'm sorry."
Oriana jumped, a small screech slipping from her lips. She turned as he stepped back, his eyes wide. "Emrys?" She pressed a hand to her heart, willing it to slow. "Saints above. You scared the life out of me." He'd bathed and changed into fresh clothes. His beard had been shaved, and his hair combed. A dark scar stretched up his chin, creasing his bottom lip. She hadn't seen that at the river. How had she missed it?
"Exactly what I was trying to avoid," he said flatly, gaze already turning away from her to sweep the treeline. His face was impassive, unreadable. "I've been sent to relieve you."
"No, I'm on duty for another hour."
He shrugged, wrapping his coat around him for warmth. "I'm just following orders."
"I can finish my shift."
Arms lifted in surrender, he shook his head. "I'm not saying you can't. Godram is."
Her eyes narrowed. She crossed the platform, leaning over the railing to scan the camp below. Sure enough, Godram was standing in the torchlight, staring up at her. His grin was far too pleased with itself. The moment their eyes met, he turned abruptly, whistling tunelessly as if he hadn't been caught. "Really?" She hissed, and he waved her away.
"I've been given strict orders to ensure you don't miss the boy's party. Guardian and all."
Oriana turned back and folded her arms, chin lifting in defiance. "Well, I refuse." She stalked to the railing and perched on it stubbornly, eyes trained on the forest as though she could will him into silence.
"Of course you do." His smirk carried easily in the dark, and she had to tighten her grip on the railing to keep from throttling him. "I'll never understand why they let you get away with-" He started.
"What?" She snapped and turned to face him.
"Everything." His eyes narrowed, his voice low, pointed.
Oriana's lips curved into a saccharine smile. "Must be something about me."
His gaze sharpened. "One day that laissez-faire attitude is going to land you in trouble you can't sweet-talk your way out of."
"I guess its a good thing I can take care of myself then."
His eyes slid over her slowly—assessing, weighing—and heat flared under her skin before she could stop it. She shifted, suddenly too aware of her posture, of the chill air brushing damp strands of hair against her neck.
"You don't look like someone who can take care of herself," he said at last, voice quiet but edged. "You're soaked through and shivering. Go home. Bathe. Sleep."
Her laugh came out sharp, defensive. "Don't tell me what to do, Emrys." She turned away, snapping her gaze to the trees. "Besides…" Her throat tightened as the words tumbled out before she could catch them. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Erik's in my bed."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Her stomach lurched. Heat flooded her face. "I mean—he's using my bed since I'm here," she blurted, whirling back toward him. "Not— not in my bed waiting for me or anything. Not that it's your business."
She pivoted away again, wishing the floorboards would open and swallow her whole. Saints, why did her tongue always twist itself into knots with him? Around Emrys, words betrayed her, tumbling into foolishness before she could think them through. Something about him stripped her bare, made her clumsy.
Careful, sidelong, she risked a glance at him. He was staring straight back.
"The wind is picking up." He smirked, and she bristled at the casual remark.
She pulled the coat tighter around her and grinned. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."
"Still as difficult as ever." Emrys lowered himself onto the platform beside her, boots scraping the wood as he let his legs dangle over the wall. Oriana's mouth twitched, ready with a retort, but the words stalled on her tongue. He didn't even know her, not really. He hadn't the faintest idea how difficult she could be.
Silence stretched between them, filled only with the sigh of wind pushing through the trees and the faint creak of the wooden guardrails. She caught herself sneaking glances at him, at the scar tugging across his lip, at the way his shoulders seemed weighed down by something heavier than his coat.
Finally, he exhaled. "I'm sorry about yelling at you at the riverbed."
"Oh, did you yell at me? I hadn't noticed." She lied, the words sounding genuine, even to herself. She could have been an actress in another life. "Just so glad to see you return safely."Her voice faltered into a frown, but when she turned, he was already smirking at her.
"Forgive me if I don't believe that."
She shrugged, feigning indifference though her pulse thudded louder in her throat. "Did you find more survivors?"
His gaze held hers for a moment before he nodded. "Two."
"That's great. I'm sure Squire will have them settled in no time."
"They're with Elis."
Oriana grimaced and pressed her forehead to the cold bars. More orphans? "How old?"
"Six and eleven. Assholes. Both of them." His chuckle was low, unguarded, his hand drifting up to scratch at his palm—a nervous tic she had memorized without meaning to.
She noticed everything about him. From the day Emrys had been dragged into their lives three years ago, she'd been hopelessly, stupidly drawn to him. When she'd teased Erik that she'd marry a Guardian, it wasn't some vague idea—it had been him. Every time she'd tried to speak to him, though, her tongue betrayed her, or he ruined the moment with that sharp mouth of his.
Bossy. Sure of himself to the point of arrogance. Infuriating. And yet her chest ached with the want of his attention. When she had begged to join the Guardians, he had dismissed her with a single, unbending no. Not even a discussion. Not even a chance. As if she were still a child he had to shelter instead of someone capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
She shook the bitter memory off and turned to find him staring at her. She blushed. "Sorry, I got lost in thought. Elis will take care of them. She's always been great with the younger ones."
Silence fell again. Only the rustle of leaves below filled the air, the distance between them charged with things unspoken. She thought of the list she'd once made—a dozen clever questions she would ask if she ever had him alone like this. Yet here she was, and her mind was maddeningly empty. The silence stretched so long it burned, until her legs prickled and went numb beneath her. With a huff, she pushed herself up and began pacing the platform.
"You wouldn't do well as a Guardian."
The words hit her mid-step, and she stumbled, whipping around to glare at him.
"I know you're still angry I denied you," he went on evenly.
"You never even considered me. You shut me down immediately."
"It's not a good fit." His gaze didn't waver. "You've never been able to sit still for long. You're full of restless energy, and it bleeds onto everyone near you. Our job requires patience—people only open up to us if they feel safe. They won't open up to someone who can't stop moving."
Oriana scoffed. "People open up to me all the time. Ask anyone. I merely ask, and they spill their guts."
He looked up at her as they both grinned. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "I remember when I first joined your family, you used to run laps around the caravan of wagons every morning. You couldn't stand still."
"I still run laps." She sighed and moved to sit back down. "Godram says I distract the guards, though, so he makes me run around the gardens."
He nodded, and for the first time that she could remember, his shoulders dropped. He looked wary. "Another part of our job is being able to blend in."
For the first time she could remember, Emrys's shoulders eased, his posture softening. He looked almost weary. "Another part of our job is blending in."
"I blend," she snapped, though the word came out petulant. She grimaced and turned away toward the dark forest.
"You've never blended in a day in your life, Oriana." His smirk returned, sharper this time. "I can find you no matter where you are. Without even trying." His voice dropped, almost unwilling. "You're like the sun on a cloudy day."
Her head snapped toward him. His cheeks flushed as soon as the words left his mouth, and he turned aside. Was that-? No. It couldn't be.
"That sounds like a personal problem," she muttered, though her chest tightened. "Because no one else has ever told me I'm like the sun." She tried to laugh it off, the sound awkward in her own ears.
"That's not what I meant."
"Radiant beauty or so harsh you have to squint your eyes?" she teased, narrowing hers as he chuckled.
"Little of both," he admitted, and her heart betrayed her by skipping a beat.
"The life of a Guardian isn't for someone like you."
"Like me?" Oriana frowned, her lips pulling tight as she tried to decipher if it was meant as an insult or a simple fact.
He sighed, the sound heavy, almost weary. "Tell me about life here, Oriana."
Her brows drew together. "Tell me what you mean. Someone like me."
"Tell me about your life, and I'll tell you what I mean when I say someone like you."
She studied him for a long moment, as if she might pry the answer out of his expression alone, then relented. "Life in Greenwall?" She drew in a breath. "We're overpopulated. The food is scarce, but we always seem to make due." The words felt bleak the moment they left her tongue, and she winced. She scrambled for something brighter, something worth mentioning. "Oh! Winter's on its way in, so the gargoyle should come off some of the summer fruit."
"Gargoyle? Ripar?" He glanced back at her, the side of his mouth curved up in a half-smile. She used to love that half-smile.
Heat flared across her cheeks. She had always loved that half-smile—how unfair it was that it could still unbalance her. She looked away quickly. "Yes. We passed a vote just after you left, before the spring. All fresh produce goes to the small ones, and the rest is raffled. I keep losing." She grinned, sheepish. "I'd literally sell my soul for a pear."
He chuckled, a low sound that reached his eyes, and she brightened. "What else?" he asked, his voice softer now.
"Not much else. A couple fights, a couple marriages. Oh, Mira!" She nudged his shoulder with her own, playful, forgetting herself—until she felt him tense under the touch. "She had her baby. Do you remember Mira?" He shook his head. "You brought her back your second trip past the wall."
"The short angry one or the crier?"
"The angry one. And she's still angry. It's my favorite thing about her, honestly. The party tonight is for her son, Evander."
"Ah, I thought I heard Godram say you were gonna be his guardian."
Pride bloomed across her face, and she beamed. His gaze, unguarded, flicked to her mouth, and suddenly her smile faltered. Flustered, she looked away. "I'm beyond honored. Mama says it's a tradition from the old world. I won't have to do much until he's older, but I can't miss his party. Will you be going?"
"To guide him through life? Quite a job." Oriana nodded, but a heavy cloud descended over her. It was a difficult job. Why had she agreed? To guide and protect a baby his entire life? She could never leave the community. She shook her head and stared down at the crescent moons on her palms. She didn't want to leave, did she?
"I've made you sad." She looked up to find his dark eyes on her. "What did I say?"
"Nothing. I'm easily distracted." She fell silent and looked down to find she was leaning against him. He radiated heat, and she'd practically curled up in his lap.
"Sorry." She leaned away and moved to stand when he spoke.
"What has you so distracted?"She shook her head. Better not to say. Once she started, she never stopped.
"Tell me," he pressed. "I want to know."
She looked into his eyes and nodded. "Rumor has it that someone has asked permission to marry me."
His brow arched. "Congratulations. Who's the lucky man?"
"I haven't a clue. That's part of it. The other is that I'm not sure I'm ready to be a wife. It's something I've always wanted. Or thought I wanted. But now that the choice is upon me, I'm finding I'm not sure. Too many choices, too many paths."
He nodded and turned to face her. "Let's hear them. I'll tell you what to do." She chuckled but shook her head, letting the silence fall once more.
What harm would it do? He was a guardian. He'd probably be gone by morning, off on another grand adventure. She wouldn't see him for months, and by then, she'd probably be married. "I could marry this person and settle down here." She looked up at him and found him nodding, his eyes on her. "Then, if we had children, they would be respected, and I would be accepted as well."
"Is that important to you? To be accepted?" His voice carried an edge that unsettled her. He had turned away, and she couldn't read his face.
Of course, it was important. Not that she expected him to understand. Everyone looked up to him. Everyone respected him. "If I don't marry him, what else is there for me really? I'm not Blessed, so marrying someone else would be out of the question. Not that anyone has shown an interest. I've always wanted to see the world. I could do that if I left. I wouldn't be hunted. I could have a life." She shook her head and pressed her forehead to the cold bars. But she couldn't leave. It was ridiculous to even consider it. She could never leave Jonna and Estia behind.
Oriana shook her head and focused on the trees. "It feels like this marriage is the only path for me, but I can't make myself take the leap. I keep thinking-"
"What if?"
She nodded. The silence between them thickened, heavy but not unpleasant. She risked a glance at him and was struck by the realization: she didn't really know him. This was the longest conversation they'd ever had, and she'd only spilled her own heart. Still something about that moment made her want to continue. "Have you ever been in love?"
The question hung in the air. He frowned, his gaze steady. "I've dedicated my life to this." He gestured to the world beyond the walls. "It leaves little time for romance."
Oriana nodded, as she pulled her knees to her chest and rest her chin against them. "Estia was in love once. Before she found us, she was married to a man named Nestor. She said she knew it was love because her eyes would find him every time he entered the room she was in. That her heart would race, and she would find herself counting the steps it would take her to reach him." Oriana grinned and glanced at him. "Isn't that silly? Jonna says she knew she loved Maran the moment he held her hand."
On impulse, Oriana slid her fingers into his. "That when his palm pressed to hers, it felt like their heartbeats synched, and they were one."
His gaze dropped to their entwined hands, and she flushed, yanking hers back with an awkward laugh. "Romantic nonsense, I'm sure."
"No one here makes your heart race?"
She looked away, her heart pounding then. "I'm not sure." But she was. It was him. It had only ever been him. Not that she'd tell him. She could barely think it without wanting to jump off a bridge. "Sometimes, I think I just don't know enough. Maybe love has to be built. Maybe you don't just fall into it. Who am I to wonder about love anyway? I mean, I've only ever been kissed on the cheek once, and it was in bright sunlight for Saint's sake." She scoffed and turned to find him frowning.
"I'm sorry. I don't understand the significance of being kissed in the sunlight."
Oriana sat up straighter and shrugged, her face hot. "I don't know. I just... Forget I said anything. The point is-"
"You feel like you haven't experienced enough."
"Yes. Sometimes. I don't know." She waved her hand in the air as if dispersing their conversation. She shouldn't have said anything. They weren't friends. In fact, she was almost sure they were enemies. All he ever did was criticize and chastize her. Still, it had been almost nice. "So, what's your verdict?"
"Two things. One, you need experience." Emrys grinned. "You should start kissing everyone until someone feels different." He chuckled as she pulled back and socked him in the arm.
"You're awful. I shouldn't have said anything. Your turn. Spill ridiculously embarrassing anecdotes so I can laugh at you."
He grinned. "Second, you aren't built for the life of Guardians because you are the sun. You are hopeful and happy, even in the dark. You care about these people, even though half of them hate you for just existing. Living outside these walls will break you. It'll take your sunshine, and it will dim it until the only thing left of you is shadow."
He leaned forward to rest his chin on the railing, staring out at the forest. "I had this hope when Squire asked me to lead the Guardians. I thought if I can save enough of my people, that everything I'd done in my past wouldn't matter, and I could forge a different path for myself."
"That's not embarrassing. That's sweet."
"The world hasn't gotten better, Oriana." He shook his head as he nervously scratched his palm. "It isn't any safer for our kind. The Queen has men stationed at every border tower. The Holy City, is barricaded, and the people inside are starving. People are untrusting of everyone, and rightfully so. It takes just one person accusing someone of being Blessed, and their life is over. It's just a matter of time before they find us here, and we have to run again."
"We've run before. We'll do it again."
He shook his head, leaning his forehead against the railing. "What if there's nowhere else to run?" He whispered, so low she almost missed it.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of standing against an army with only a few dozen Blessed.
"I'm making you sad again. Tell me, I saw Erik up here on my way to the baths. How's he doing?"
"Erik?" She frowned. "I didn't realize you knew each other."
"Toryn and I bunked with him when we first came. He showed us the ropes. Told us whom to steer clear of. I'd like to think I can call him a friend."
"Well," She smiled, looking out at the trees. "-then you know. He's Erik. He's a bottomless well of optimism."
He chuckled. "Sounds right. I'm surprised he hasn't settled down and had a litter of babies by now. He always talked about how he came from a big family. Though I believe he was still heartbroken over Mira when I was here last."
Oriana snorted. "Well, he just offered to marry me, but we haven't quite figured out the baby part." She chuckled, but the thought of children soured her stomach. She wanted babies, but not for several years. At least five. Maybe ten. You don't want to be too old. Estia was already in her fifties when she'd found them. That's definitely too old. And she'd like her around to love on them. So soon. If she married her mystery man, how long would he give her?
"Oriana?" She looked up with a start. "Has he gotten married?"
"No… Not yet. Not from a lack of trying."
"Are you talking about me?" They both turned as Erik strode toward them, his broad frame cutting through the lamplight. His voice was easy, but his eyes flicked between them with too much interest. He'd stopped at his own tent to replace the pants he'd left behind. "Emrys, when did you get back?"
"A few hours ago." Emrys rose, brushing dust from his palms before clasping Erik's hand. Erik didn't bother with formality—he hauled him into a crushing embrace.
"I've missed you. Did everyone make it back?"
Emrys stepped back and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not Lim. But the others are around. Probably at the party, Ori was telling me about."
"Yeah." Erik's jaw tightened. "Mira had a baby. They're throwing a party in the starlight cavern." His tone was forced casual, but Oriana noticed the hesitation—the faint crack in his smile. For the first time, it struck her that Mira might have broken his heart. They all teased him about it. Joked like it was harmless. But the way his voice lingered over her name left no doubt.
Oriana rose, brushing her palms against her thighs before reaching out to touch his hand, gentle. "Are you alright?"
"No." He gave a short laugh, tugging his hand from hers. "I'm fine, Ri." But he wasn't. The words felt like a veil, and for a heartbeat she saw straight through him—the ache he was trying so hard to bury.
Oriana glanced back at Emrys before turning back to him and nodding. "I'll see you at breakfast. We should talk." She whispered and he nodded, not looking at her.
"Yeah, thanks again, Ri. You're the best."
She nodded and hurried down the stairs, putting as much space between her and Emrys. The pathways were hushed, lanterns glowing like watchful eyes. She cut through the trees and back toward her house, the night air cool against her flushed skin.
A lantern still burned in her mother's window, its glow spilling across the yard. Oriana hesitated, then angled left and slipped into the room she shared with Jonna. In the dark, she tugged off her filthy clothes, scrubbing mud from her arms and face with a damp rag before dressing in a clean tunic. She twisted her hair into a hasty bun, but streaks of dirt clung stubbornly. She'd have to bathe before bed. No time now.
She reached for her boots before remembering she'd left them by the river. Making a mental note to retrieve them at the end of the party, she ducked into the main room, her gaze moving toward her mother's door. "Mama?" She crossed the room and nudged the door open. "Are you awake?" She found her nestled in her bed, her chest slowly rising and falling. Oriana took a step back.
Her mother lay propped on her side, silver-streaked hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, eyes gleaming in the lantern's light. "Yes, I'm awake. Both of my daughters running wild in the night—how could I sleep?"
Oriana snorted and leaned against the door frame as her mother sat up, her grey hair tumbling around her shoulders. "I haven't gone running wild yet. Just left guard duty."
"Yes, Erik told me. I left you some food warming by the fire." Her mother pushed upright, bones creaking faintly. "That boy slept like the dead. I'll have to speak with Godram about getting more volunteers for the watch."
Oriana nodded, gesturing back towards her room. "I have notes. We could do a rotation. Everyone can chip in. It shouldn't fall to the soldiers. Just because they were in the Queen's army before doesn't mean no one else is capable."
Her mother's mouth lifted at the corner. "Leave me your notes. I'll bring it up in the morning. We have a meeting at first light."
"That's early."
"Squire insisted." She settled her blanket around her shoulders, eyes narrowing in mock severity. "Have fun tonight. Don't stay out too late. If I have to come looking for you, you'll wish you were dead."
Oriana grinned and blew her mother kisses. "You can't charm me, little demon. Curfew."
"Of course, General." Oriana straightened, offering a playful salute. Her mother frowned, but Oriana was already stepping back. She closed the door softly, then darted through the house before she could be stopped, laughter bubbling in her chest.