Lucian rushed down the road, shadows of past battles replaying in his mind, people he cared about being struck down replayed like a broken record. The stench of iron and smoke began to fill the air gently under pressure of the rain, as though war itself were lodged in his nose.

  The forest loomed ahead, and with it came the image of Amira's smile, her silver hair dancing in moonlight, her red eyes bright as embers. Following the trail she had shown him proved difficult; the path wound endlessly, and the moon’s light barely pierced the canopy. He lost his way more than once, but at last, the scent of smoke thickened in the air, urging his steps faster.

  When he emerged into the clearing, his chest tightened.

  Amira’s home was ablaze. Flames roared, consuming the wood in a chorus of crackles, sparks flying like fireflies into the night sky. In front of the inferno stood Amira. She held a basket brimming with jars of jam and a familiar book, the very one Lucian had once thumbed through.

  The firelight carved shadows across her white gown. Her expression wore a smile, yet a single tear slipped from her right eye, drying against her cheek before it could fall.

  Lucian was drawn to her as if gravity itself pulled him. He reached out and clasped her arms.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, worry written plainly across his battle-hardened face.

  Amira tilted her head, her lips curving softly.

  “Oh… you’re covered in blood again.”

  His grip tightened, shaking her gently. “Did they hurt you?”

  “Hurt me? Who?” She blinked in confusion.

  “The ones who burned down your house!”

  Amira let out a sudden, snorting laugh, the sound oddly out of place against the backdrop of ruin. She brushed at her cheek with the back of her hand.

  “No one burned it down, silly!”

  Lucian froze, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

  “This was my fault. I left a pan on the stove and wandered into the garden. By the time I returned, the kitchen was gone.” She knocked the side of her head with her knuckles, sticking her tongue out playfully. “I’m a klutz, what can I say?”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Lucian’s gaze drifted to the blood at the hem of her gown, but he swallowed his doubts. For reasons he didn’t yet understand, he let the matter drop.

  Ami stepped closer, rising onto her toes so her red eyes could meet his. Her lips quirked into a small smile.

  “Were you worried about me?” she asked, her voice carrying both innocence and something heavier beneath it.

  Lucian faltered, caught off guard. He hesitated, then answered.

  “Yes.”

  Her face turned crimson. She stared at him as if the word itself had struck her silent.

  “Yes,” he repeated, uncertain if she had heard. “I was worried about you.”

  Her breath caught. Ami spun her gaze away, fiddling with a strand of her hair to hide the growing flush across her cheeks.

  “Oh-uh—tha… thanks,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

  Lucian exhaled softly, relief unfurling in his chest.

  I was worried for nothing.

  Turning back toward the flames, he asked, “So… what now?”

  The house collapsed inward, sending a spray of sparks into the night sky that faded with the stars. The smoke carried the scent of burning wood and rosemary.

  “I plan to head to Roka for a while,” Amira said at last. “I have a friend there I need to see. And… I heard it’s peaceful.”

  Lucian remained silent, watching the firelight dance in his dull gray eyes. Amira watched him instead, captivated by the way smoke tossed his brown hair and softened the hard lines of his face.

  She whispered without realizing it: “I wish you could come with me.”

  Lucian’s heart froze. He didn’t turn to her. “Why couldn’t I?”

  Her eyes widened. Thinking she said it in her head.

  “Well—I… we barely know each other! Why would you want to travel with a stranger?”

  Lucian turned to face her. The nervous sincerity in her eyes made his chest tighten. “I—”

  She cut him off, flustered. “It would be dangerous with me! And I—I can’t offer you anything—”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” he interjected gently. “Consider me your body guard. I’ll protect you and then after we’ll go our separate ways. It's the least I can do since you patched me up and all.” He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “If you don’t mind that it’s me, that is.”

  For a heartbeat, Amira simply stared. The man who never showed emotion now looked almost… shy.

  Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Fine. As long as you don’t get any dirty thoughts about me when we’re stuck sharing a room.”

  Lucian froze. His face flamed scarlet.

  “Ah—” was all he managed.

  …Did she catch me staring earlier? The memory sent another rush of heat to his cheeks.

  Amira’s own face flushed crimson at his reaction. She scrambled to cover her nerves. “A-and no brooding!”

  “I understand!” Lucian blurted, bowing stiffly.

  When he straightened, their eyes met. Both looked away immediately.

  “Good!” Amira huffed, lifting her chin. “Then let’s hurry up and go, we most certainly can’t stay here for the night.”

  She bent to scoop up her bag, balancing the basket of jam and her book. With a bounce in her step, she started down the pathway, her silver hair gleaming as dawn’s light broke through the trees.

  Lucian lingered a moment. A smile tugged at his lips, warm as the sun peeking over the horizon. But when his eyes fell to his hands, the smile faded, replaced with the weight of blood that would never fully wash away. He took one last glance at the burning house and noticed what seemed to be a broken bow in dunnage. He ignored it and turned to follow Amira.