I’m guided to my new room. Even if we leave for Vellaris in the morning, she apparently wants us to be as comfortable as possible.

  The guard doesn’t lock the door this time. My pack sits beside a large desk, and I scoff softly at the neat stack of blank paper and writing implements laid out atop it.

  It’s not large… but it’s cozy. A bed big enough for two, without dominating the space.

  I drift toward a nearby bookcase, squinting at the titles.

  She has… good taste? I would’ve picked these myself in a shop and—wait.

  I pull one of the tomes free and examine it more closely.

  “Is this… an original?” I murmur. “It’s not pressed. This is inked. How—”

  The words slip out before I realize I’m speaking. Then the thought lands, heavy and unwelcome.

  Is she trying to tell me something?

  That this is what waits for me if I stay?

  How long has she been planning this?

  Uneasy, I turn to the wardrobe.

  Dresses. Comfortable clothes. Some in the style I favored four years ago—others that feel like me now.

  I freeze.

  …What is this?

  One piece catches my eye. Barely clothing at all. It feels pleasant to the touch—too pleasant—but why would anyone wear something that leaves so much exposed?

  I exhale sharply and shove the quasi-garment back inside.

  Another sigh follows as I reach for a simple blouse—breezy, clean. My gaze drops to my armor. I clench my teeth and shut the wardrobe instead.

  I’m not letting her get into my head.

  I leave the room. A guard waits outside—the same one from earlier—but this time she bows, keeping a respectful distance.

  “If you are finished changing, I can escort you to the dining room,” she says gently. “Or anywhere else you’d like to visit first.”

  “Ah—thank you. The dining room is fine,” I reply, offering an awkward smile.

  No reason to give her a hard time. She’s just following orders. Her orders.

  The dining room is elegant without being ostentatious. Dark lacquered wood, an embroidered tablecloth, lanterns lining the walls. A candelabra casts warm light across the table.

  The moment I see the others, I flinch.

  They’ve all changed. Fresh clothes—not their usual styles, but still flattering. Was I the only one who didn’t?

  “Imo!”

  That voice. Something inside me softens instantly.

  I look and see Cattleya—still dressed up, her smile warm and unguarded, tail swishing happily. A purple ribbon is tied neatly near the tip.

  She pulls out a chair for me, expectant.

  I don’t hesitate. I step forward and sit beside her as if nothing is wrong.

  I don’t realize how wide my smile has grown until my eyes meet Signora’s.

  That knowing look. That pleased expression. And—of course—a subtle wink.

  My jaw tightens. I glance back at Cattleya, searching for… something. Anything.

  She looks the same as always.

  How far is she pushing me?

  “Seems like everyone is here,” Signora says, clapping once.

  Moments later, a servant enters with a roast on a heavy tray, carving careful slices onto our plates. Another follows with potatoes and vegetables.

  “Now that we’ve had time to freshen up,” Signora says, settling at the head of the table. “I’d like to discuss strategy.”

  No one answers. Everyone’s too busy eating.

  She seems pleased.

  “Nagi will remain behind to look after Kiereth,” she says. “And make sure our sleeping beauty doesn’t get any princes trying to wake her up.” Her gaze flicks to me. “You don’t mind leaving your new friend with your old pal, do you?”

  I nearly choke on my wine.

  “Sounds sensible,” Ulric says before I can respond.

  “Captain,” Signora continues, “I’ll need you in my office after this. We’ll go through my inventory and decide what we can bring along that our good friend Lucius might need.”

  Ulric raises a brow but nods, still chewing.

  “Girlie,” she adds, turning to Cinna, “ever looked into a teleport crystal? You might not pin down the destination, but I’d wager you can estimate how much mass it can handle. I’ll need upper and lower limits.”

  Cinna cleans her mouth quickly and offers a polite bow from her seat. “Of course. To the best of my ability.”

  Signora’s gaze shifts to Veil—but she doesn’t speak.

  Veil notices, ears twitching. “Oi?”

  “I’m trying to think what I need from you,” she says thoughtfully, “but my mind keeps circling back to a kiss on the cheek.” She winks.

  Veil laughs.

  “But seriously,” she adds, leaning back, “your friend Nelis is in my crew. Really wants to see you. Why don’t you two catch up? Swap news from the city. My men’ve gotten soft since we moved—haven’t been doing their homework.”

  “Aye—uh—Signora,” Veil says awkwardly. “Thanks.”

  She smiles at him. A genuine one. Not like the ones she gives me.

  Cattleya eats quietly beside me, just as she always has. Calm. Untroubled. As if the fear I saw in her eyes earlier had never existed.

  I force myself to stop thinking and focus on the food.

  …It’s excellent. A roast like this doesn’t come cheap. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten this well.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I’ll freshen up before our meeting, Captain,” Signora says, rising. She hasn’t touched her plate.

  “Cattleya, dear—come see me when you’re finished, mm?”

  “Mm,” Cattleya hums easily.

  I stare. Am I missing something?

  By the time I realize I’ve stopped eating, Cattleya is already done.

  “See you soon, Imo,” she says, smiling like she always has.

  “See you… soon,” I reply, my voice trailing as she slips out after Signora.

  Ulric leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Looks like everything solved itself.” He pats his stomach. “I’m off for a bath. See you all shortly.”

  As he passes Veil, he hooks an arm around him and murmurs something in his ear.

  Veil’s ears perk sharply. He grins. Ulric walks away smiling.

  Only then does it hit me.

  She didn’t ask anything of me.

  Maybe she already knows I’d push back.

  “I’m just going to clear my head,” I say, standing. “Bit much all at once.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk, Imone,” Cinna says gently.

  “Aye,” Veil adds. “We’ve got you.”

  I smile despite myself. “I’ll let you know if the usual methods don’t work.”

  I wave and head back toward my room.

  The halls twist more than I remembered—but I think I can find my way.

  …Where are we, anyway?

  Underground?

  I remember walking down, back when they had sacks over our heads.

  Would they even let me just… walk out now?

  I glance down a long corridor. A lone guard stands beside a sturdier-looking door.

  I sigh. No—too much all at once.

  I turn back and push into my room. My eyes drift immediately to the papers on the desk.

  …I don’t need to leave these here, do I?

  If she gives me trouble over taking paper, I’ll give her a piece of my mind.

  But first—

  I change into the breezy outfit I noticed earlier, feeling lighter almost immediately.

  “…Writing first. Bath later,” I murmur, nodding to myself as I move to the desk.

  I start with what I learned from Kiereth.

  The thoughts spill onto the page as if a dam has broken—line after line, no pause, no hesitation. I don’t even have to think.

  Everything feels clearer now that I can just… organize it.

  Kiereth met four others. I was the fifth. One was recent—someone I don’t know. The other three were from long ago.

  Nodo is one of them.

  …How old are they, anyway?

  I rise and drift to the bookshelf.

  There’s a local encyclopedia.

  I skim quickly.

  If this is right… Yunhai was founded four hundred and seventy-two years ago.

  It began as an eastern military outpost. Settlers followed, slowly turning it into a city.

  Contact with the western city-states came later—through trade, not alliance.

  Even so, they stayed apart. Isolationist. Careful. Distant from western politics.

  Guess I’ve spent too long buried in ancient civilizations.

  I sit back down, the book resting on my lap.

  “Before this settlement was called Yunhai…” I murmur aloud, grounding myself.

  I frown.

  A knock at the door breaks my concentration.

  My heart jumps. Is it Signora?

  I shuffle my notes beneath the rest of the papers, slide the book back onto the shelf, and straighten.

  I open the door.

  “Cat—”

  The word escapes me before I can stop it.

  She stands there, smiling as always. Her tail—

  Wait.

  What is she wearing?

  Why is her nightgown… see-through?

  “Cat,” I say again, more cautiously.

  “Imo.” The way she says my name feels… softer.

  She steps toward me. I retreat instinctively, releasing the door as it swings shut behind us.

  “…Is everything alright?” I ask awkwardly, backing deeper into the room. “I was worried.”

  She keeps coming. Eyes fixed on mine. No sorrow. No fear.

  “Mm… everything will be okay now, right, Imo?” she murmurs.

  She presses closer. I stumble back, bumping into the bed. She doesn’t stop.

  Moments later I’m sitting, then lying back—Cattleya straddling me, her face drawing closer.

  “Wh—what is happening, Cat?” The words tangle. The warmth spreading through my chest makes it hard to think, harder to breathe.

  Time stretches.

  Her eyes search mine. Her hands close gently around my wrists.

  My pulse thunders. My cheeks burn. My lips part before I even notice. I focus on her eyes—clear, resolute, without a trace of doubt. I can smell her, feel the warmth of her so close, and the sensation fogs my thoughts, makes the urge to give in feel dangerously easy.

  She inches closer, slowly—carefully—like she’s waiting for permission.

  But a thought stirs at the back of my mind, faint at first, then louder—insistent, warning. Not fear. Not hesitation.

  Clarity.

  The thought cuts through the haze, sharp and unwelcome.

  “…Did she ask you to do this?”

  The words come out barely above a whisper.

  She freezes.

  That faint squint. The furrowed brow.

  Oh no.

  I slip free and place my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back just enough as I sit up.

  “Cat… please.” My jaw tightens. “Promise me you’ll never do something like this just because someone asked you to. Ever.”

  She doesn’t speak. But the fear in her eyes is unmistakable.

  I pull her into a tight embrace, holding her until my chest aches.

  Her heartbeat is fast. Or maybe it’s mine.

  Her hands rest on my back, tentative, searching—checking if she’s doing it right.

  I give her time.

  Minutes pass. Our breathing slows. Her scent—soap and something familiar—fills my head.

  Eventually, I ease back just enough to meet her gaze.

  “Do you still think something bad will happen?” I ask softly.

  She shakes her head, eyes dropping.

  I guide her to sit beside me, taking her hand firmly, our arms linking.

  “Tell me what happened,” I say. “All of it.”

  She exhales shakily.

  “Signora told me not to tell anyone we were related,” she says quietly. “Said if they found out, I’d be forced to leave.”

  My grip tightens.

  “When we met, I thought I was going to be taken away. I didn’t want to be taken away.” She steels herself. “I begged her. She said she had a plan.”

  I nod, jaw clenched.

  “She told me to act like her maid. To refuse if anyone asked me to go with them.” A pause. “Earlier, she said the plan worked. That there was one last step.”

  “…This?” I ask.

  She nods.

  That bitch.

  “Cat,” I say gently, nudging our joined arms. “I can’t speak for everyone—but do you really think I’d ever let someone do that to you?”

  Her gaze wavers.

  “No,” I continue firmly. “And if anyone tries to force you out of the Valiants…” I meet her eyes. “Then we leave together. I wouldn’t want anything to do with people like that.”

  Her eyes widen—wonder, disbelief, relief all tangled together.

  Like I’ve just shown her something she was never allowed to imagine.

  I straighten slightly.

  “I know I didn’t do what I promised, all that time ago,” I say quietly. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. I just… didn’t know where to begin.”

  My grip tightens around her hand.

  “I want to tell you, Cat. And I promise—I won’t let anyone take you away.” I offer a small, steady smile. “If you ever want to leave, that’s different. That’s your choice.”

  Her eyes glisten. I catch the telltale sheen just before she breaks.

  She lunges forward, arms wrapping around my torso, face buried against my chest. She holds on tight, breath hitching as she tries—and fails—to keep herself together.

  I circle my arms around her and hold her close.

  Carefully, I shift us toward the pillows, easing us into something more comfortable without pulling her away. When I glance down, I notice the sheer fabric again. I reach for a blanket and drape it over both of us, shielding her without comment.

  Her sobs come in small, strained bursts, each one fought for.

  I rest my forehead against the top of her head, one hand moving slowly along her back, fingers threading gently through her hair.

  “You don’t have to hold it in,” I murmur. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  That’s when she finally lets herself cry.

  I hold her tighter, steady and unhurried, until the tension drains from her body and her breathing evens out.

  I stay awake until she’s calm.

  After that… sleep comes easily.