Two women joined Rayan for the painfully long carriage ride from Vallessau to the distant estate. Rayan was good friends with Mari Ahlai, and had worked often with her as the Lioness over the past months. Nothing too drastic, and not always focused on killing. Merely keeping her presence known to the people was vital if faith in Endarius were to endure. When Rayan proposed a visit to her father, she had readily agreed, and paid for the carriage herself.

The other woman was Clarissa Greene, one of Vallessau’s city clerks. He met her on occasion, always in the secret meetings organized in the deep of night with those still fighting against the imperial takeover. Rayan assumed she had business with Thorda regarding her occupation, but he did not ask. Her business was not his own. This charming woman remained faithful to Lycaena, so instead, he casually chatted about matters of faith and history with her as they crossed the fourteen hours of winding dirt roads, through gradually higher hills, and several forest highways to the Ahlai mansion. His assumption was immediately proven wrong upon their arrival, when Stasia swept Clarissa up into her arms and covered her face with kisses.

What once was open must now be hidden, he thought, the excitement of their arrival now tinged with bitterness.

“I’m surprised you could get away,” Stasia said when they separated.

“Sometimes even we hard workers need a brief reprieve,” Clarissa explained. “That, and my mother is likely telling everyone I’m deathly ill even as we speak.”

Mari rushed past them while laughing, making a beeline toward her father. Rayan stayed beside the carriage, pretending not to be anxious. Between the two years of absence during the prince’s imprisonment, and now the months spent training with Thorda, Rayan had worried there would be a distance between him and Cyrus that would not be easily crossed. The young man’s slow approach only added to that worry. Whereas Clarissa and Mari received immediate joy, Cyrus kept himself measured. He walked with head stiff and spine straight, as if the paladin were a foreign dignitary. His head dipped low in greeting.

“It’s good to see you, old man.”

Just like that, all of Rayan’s worries melted away. He beamed a grin and opened his arms.

“So says the little boy.”

They embraced, years parting, Rayan once more the close protector and teacher, Cyrus his student and friend. Meanwhile Stasia set Clarissa back to her feet, keeping her close, her tiny body fully wrapped in her arms. Her attention briefly turned Rayan’s way.

“Fair warning, the prince is getting a mouth on him now that he’s had a few months of training.”

“Getting?” Rayan ruffled Cyrus’s hair. Even on the day the empire invaded, the prince had poked fun of his age when prodding him to join the battle. “No, he has always been like that. It just hid for a while.”