And then take Cassius to bed, not for enjoyable activities.

To hold him tightly to me, absorb his strength, the depth of his need to protect (which had to be the depth of his ability to love, which was bottomless) and infuse him with anything light and sunny and cheerful and good.

Anything.

Even just a whisper.

He had often called his home bleak and miserable.

He did not mean the look of it.

He meant this.

The fact that the very air seemed permeated, heavy, even clogged with despair.

I did not race up the lane.

I had to stay alert.

There were soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, lining each side of that lane, wearing their black battle leathers and slate-colored wool mantles, staring at us under their shining black helmets with long, lethal-tipped lances pointed to the sky and held tucked to their shoulders.

We could be felled in a trice.

But not a one of them moved, nary an inch. I didn’t witness one so much as twitch.

What I did was wonder why they weren’t fighting the radicals that were laying siege to the city for that lane was long in its rise up to the fortress. There were easily hundreds of them.

However, they just stood at attention for their king and their prince, their leathers, lances and helmets pristine.

Odd and not a small amount of unsettling.

I noted Cassius didn’t feel that way.

But upon glancing behind me, I saw Frey and Lahn, both visibly alert and openly taking in the lines of warriors, absolutely did.

At the top, dead center in a large, stately courtyard paved in smooth cobbles and dotted at the sides with some shrubs that were not pleasing-to-the-eye hints of nature in this dark stone landscape, but precisely trimmed in squat cone and pyramid shapes, sat an enormous fire pit that raged with orange flames.

Not a tinkling, peaceful fountain.

Perhaps it was an ode to ancient times when Airen and Firenze were one and they were ruled by the Fire King.

Perhaps it was once a fountain, but some ruler along the years preferred something threatening and severe, not welcoming and tranquil.

I did not have the chance to ask after this (not that I would). I also did not have the chance to grab Cassius and drag him somewhere safe so we could hold onto any happiness we might have left lingering in our souls.

Out of the high, wide, arched double doors to the Citadel that were open (both of them), three women drifted down the steps that were lined with servants who also stood motionless, uniformed and at attention.

These were the only women I witnessed wearing what might amount to finery in Airen, though I vowed to my goddess I would never wear such.

Thick, leather, what only could be described as engineered corsets over silk blouses confined their ribs. The blouses were buttoned all the way to their throats, the collars stiff and uncomfortable-looking. Their skirts were wide and appeared heavy, with a variety of deep ruffles, bunches or ruching (or all three) that made them seem like they weighed stones and stones.