Ruri placed three pieces of fine, crisp grilled fish on Raithion’s plate, his expression serious as he worked.
“Thank you, Ruri,” Raithion said, holding his plate carefully.
“You’re welcome,” Ruri said, turning to serve Haedor and Dain. His attendant moved with him, carrying a large platter of the savory fish. They were in the courtyard, enjoying an easy, laid-back evening meal. Azula sat with Alise, talking quietly, their expressions animated. Raithion imagined they were sharing a final, private conversation before Azula’s departure.
Ruri continued serving everyone, delighted whenever he was praised for the delicious meal.
Raithion smiled as he ate, happy to be part of Ruri’s successful culinary experiment.
“Ruri is a happy child,” Haedor said. “So cheerful and independent. I can almost see Prince Azula’s mischief growing in him. Every time I see him, I remember the first time we met Prince Azula at the inn, he was full of mischief those days.”
Raithion chuckled at the memory of Azula coming out onto the balcony to see if he had a horn growing on his forehead.
“To think he now threatens me with every other word,” Raithion mused. “I almost think I dreamed up those carefree days.”
Haedor sighed and shifted in the comfortable chair, his gaze drifting to the beautiful view of the lake. “I’ll miss this place. We stayed only a few days, but they were quiet, good days. I don’t know if we’ll ever find another place like this.”
“You can always visit again,” Raithion said.
“Perhaps,” Haedor replied. “That will depend on whether we can resolve the Sura’s grievances.”
Raithion took a hearty bite of his fish and smiled. Ruri’s grilled fish was truly delicious. He felt a rare, deep sense of contentment, grateful to simply sit back and savor the evening. Azula’s family had an intoxicating shared energy; a vibrant, grounding presence that filled the courtyard with warmth. He smiled, remembering the sight of Azula diving into the lake to spearfish earlier that day. Azula looked and acted differently now, but his wild, untamed nature still broke through during his fishing adventures, and especially in his surprisingly tender interactions with Ruri.
Raithion glanced over at Yulin, who sat with Skye’s nanny and Ruri. His son was enjoying his meal, an excited expression on his face as he and Ruri animatedly discussed their adventure on the lake. Ruri placed a small piece of fish on Yulin’s plate, grinning when Yulin ate it with a happy smile.
“I hope Uncle Big Fish will be able to fish for us when we get home to Lyria,” Yulin said at one point. “Maybe we can share grilled fish with my grandma.”
“Why would my uncle be with you?” Ruri asked.
“He’s coming with us,” Yulin said.
Ruri stood staring at Yulin for a full minute before he burst into a loud cry, turned, and ran to where Azula and Alise sat. His cries were heartbreaking as he flung himself into Azula’s arms.
“Where is Godfather going?” Ruri asked, tears racing down his cheeks as Azula stood and lifted him into his arms, holding him tight. “Is the blessing c-ceremony for you? Why don’t I know? Why are you going? I don’t want you to go.”
Ruri buried his face in Azula’s shoulder as Azula held him close. His sobs were heartbreaking, causing all the adults in the courtyard to pause and listen.
Raithion watched as Azula soothed his nephew, never once asking Ruri to stop crying. Instead, he gently patted the boy’s back, rocking him in his arms, and let Ruri sob out his fear to his heart’s content. Azula’s departure mattered to too many people. The Sura people truly loved their prince.
Raithion let out a soft sigh and wasn’t surprised when Yulin approached him seeking comfort. He lifted Yulin, pulling him onto his lap, and tightened his arms around his son. As they listened to Ruri voice the heavy, unspoken pain of everyone who would soon miss Azula, Raithion felt the true weight of the impending goodbye settling over the courtyard.
****
Early the next morning, a somber atmosphere filled the Doriel residence. Breakfast was eaten in muted, clinking silence. Azula returned to his room to make sure his personal belongings were all packed. He was staring at the porcelain vase Valnor had given him when Alise walked in. She looked beautiful as always in a purple dress, her hair held back with a loose ribbon.
“What are you looking at so intently?” Alise asked, coming over to the work table where Azula stood.
Azula took out the delicate vase and handed it to Alise. She took it with care, letting out a soft, appreciative sound as she studied the beautiful painted flower on its smooth surface.
“Valnor’s workshop is getting more skilled with high-fired items,” Alise said. “What a beautiful vase.”
“I thought I wanted to keep it here,” Azula said, moving to close the trunk containing his personal belongings. “Now, I have a mind to use it as a gift for the Basileus. But I have doubts.”
“What doubts?” Alise asked.
“We’re a small island caught between two giants,” Azula said, sitting on his bed. “It’s not easy fighting for our standing. There is no guarantee the Basileus won’t send an army to our shores and force an occupation. He was unkind when we were framed, and even though he has written a warrant to retry the forged silver case, that doesn’t mean he has changed.”
Alise sighed as she returned the vase to the red box and closed the lid.
“He does have a record of being ruthless,” Alise said. “While his claim of wanting justice is righteous, he also sacrificed our clan with a simple decision. There’s no guarantee that he won’t want to take control of the island if he discovers our mines.”
“That would make him a tyrant,” Azula said.
“Certainly,” Alise agreed. “We’re one decision away from facing a tyrant-like Basileus.”
“Then should I give the vase as a gift without disclosing our island’s kilns?” Azula asked.
“Our island is our own,” Alise said. “The Basileus can have a gift from a visitor from a far-off land. Our trade and wares should remain our business for as long as possible.”
“The vase…” Azula stared at the red box. “Then I’ll use it to spin a tale of the close relationship we have with the Nerasa Kingdom. What do you think?”
Alise thought for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a good plan. The vase can be a gift to use along with the proposed agreement brought by Trevan. No one needs to know where the vase was made.”
“Mm,” Azula nodded, then stood and pulled Alise into a tight hug. “When I come back, promise that you’ll take it back. I’m tired, Lise. I think it’s time I find out what I want to do with my life.”
Alise rubbed his back, gently tugging at his hair. “The moment you accept a braid in your hair, I’ll lift the burden from your shoulders. I’m not fragile anymore, and I feel strong enough to fight for both of us.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Azula said as he let go of Alise. “As for Ruri, he was so upset last night. I can’t believe he cried himself to sleep.”
“His heart will heal,” Alise said. “He loves you too much to hold your departure against you. Trust his heart.”
“I will,” Azula said with a small smile. “But I’m going to miss him so much.”
“Well, I’ll miss you, Azu,” Alise said. “Don’t just fight the Basileus; find a way to work things out with the man who interests you. He seems…”
“Fickle?” Azula sighed, his throat tightening at the memory of Raithion walking him back to the house after the lake. Deep in his heart, he knew it wasn’t just interest; it was a growing magnetic pull he had tried to ignore. It was an interest he could not face until Wolfe and those like him found their justice. His heart ached at the thought.
“He seems weathered by events,” Alise corrected gently. “Perhaps he, too, is facing a new dawn. Try to understand his perspective before you judge him. Don’t miss out on love when it’s at your door. There is nothing worse than regret when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Azula bit his lip hard, a bitter taste rising. He had no words to refute her. He knew the cost of unspoken words all too well; he saw it every day in Alise.
After all, Yemin was gone. Alise thought about him often and hoped every day that Yemin had seen their beloved child. Yes, Alise knew quite a lot about losing a loved one.
Azula realized he was terrified of carrying that same hollow ache if he left things unspoken with Raithion.
“I’ll listen to you,” Azula whispered, the admission heavy but honest.
Alise helped him finish packing, and when everything was put away, she led him downstairs to find Lasma and Magnus, who were waiting in the study. Azula swallowed back the lump that filled his throat when Lasma stood up from her armchair, her eyes stained red. Magnus was standing by the windows, staring outside.
Azula stood in the middle of the room, and Lasma crossed to take his hands. She squeezed them tight, then reached up to caress his cheek.
“I was terrified when you went to Nerasa,” Lasma said. “I was scared something would happen to you, but now I’m starting to think that was the easiest place you ever went. The Lyria Kingdom…” She shuddered. “I don’t know what you’ll find, but you have to remember we are waiting for you. You don’t have to push through if it is too much. Come back home, and we can find a solution here. Your life is really important to us, to me. So remember to take care of it.”
Azula smiled and pulled her into a tight, comforting hug. “Mom, I’ll miss you too.”
Lasma chuckled and held on to him.
Azula smiled and looked at Magnus, who had turned to watch them.
“Godfather, what words do you have for me?” Azula asked.
“Come back alive,” Magnus said.
Lasma let go of Azula, and Magnus crossed the room to pull him into a tight hug.
“No matter what happens, come back home,” Magnus said. “I don’t want to watch anyone in our family climb the mountain to take ashes to the river of fire. So you come back whole.”
Azula closed his eyes and held on to Magnus, drawing strength from a man he now looked at as his father. Without Magnus, he would not have had the strength to face the last five years.
“I’ll listen to you,” Azula said.
At mid-morning, three carriages left the Doriel residence. One carried Raithion and his people, including his two children. The next belonged to Lasma, Alise, Magnus, and Ruri.
The last carriage held Azula, Wolfe, and Sennin. Their carriage was packed with everything they would need on their trip to Genad City once they landed in Lyria. No one spoke; each of them was lost in their own thoughts as they traveled to the Village Hall for the blessing ceremony.
*****
Raithion joined the Sura for their blessing ceremony. This time, he did not have to wait to enter the large, round hall. The cavernous interior was arranged to accommodate a massive gathering, with wooden benches aligned neatly across the open stone floor.
The soldier who had been following Raithion’s group led them to the front on the left side, where a bench had been reserved for them. They had an unobstructed view of the raised stone altar at the front, where five monks waited, dressed in plain blue robes, their hair shaved down to the skin. They held large wooden beads in prayer while they sat on individual mats, chanting quiet, rhythmic blessings. One of them sat cross-legged, striking a small wooden bowl with a slow, echoing cadence. The audience waited in silence. Alise, Lasma, and Magnus sat on the bench on the opposite side of the aisle; behind them was a sea of empty benches, no doubt reserved for the military detachment traveling with Azula. They did not have to wait long. The heavy doors groaned open, and Raithion turned to see Azula walking down the long center aisle.
Azula wore formal military dress in dark green and gold. His hair was secured in a tight ponytail, the thick strands falling down his back in a vibrant cascade of strawberry blonde. He wore a black shirt beneath a dark green, layered, buttoned vest adorned with gold filigree accents and matching gold buttons. Form-fitting, tailored black pants were tucked into polished black leather boots secured with heavy gold buckles. Over it all, he wore a stunning, floor-length dark green overcoat with a dramatic, high-popped collar trimmed in gold, and jagged, armor-like pauldrons resting on his shoulders. The hem of the coat was cleanly finished, split with deep slits to allow for easy, fluid movement. The wrists featured intricate gold embroidery.
Azula paused to greet an elderly woman who reached out a trembling hand to touch his left arm. As he turned slightly, Raithion caught a glimpse of the back of his overcoat, which featured an intricate royal crest embedded into the fabric with delicate, fine gold metalwork.
Azula reassured the old woman, nodding as she spoke, then he let go of her hand and continued down the aisle. Soldiers in crisp black uniforms followed behind him in two neat lines, their boots striking the floor in seamless, unified movement. Raithion recognized Wolfe, the stern man who had been so fiercely against Azula traveling to Lyria. He wore a deep burgundy overcoat, signaling a higher rank than the regular guards. Next to him was Sennin, who wore a plain black overcoat with no military markings.
They reached the front of the hall, and Azula stopped as the soldiers filed into the empty benches in an orderly manner; there were close to fifty men. They remained standing at rigid attention as Azula, Wolfe, and Sennin approached the monks waiting on the dais.
Raithion watched the display, a tightening sensation pulling at his chest as he realized the true scale of what Azula was undertaking. This was a sovereign prince marching toward a potential war zone with the lives of his people resting on his shoulders. The sheer weight of Azula’s duty felt palpable in the echoing hall, filling Raithion with a profound, aching respect that shifted something deep within his own guarded heart.
When Azula knelt on a woven mat in front of the head monk, holding a sacred white string, Ruri suddenly broke away from where he sat with Alise. The boy rushed up the stone steps of the dais to sit next to his godfather. Azula’s features softened; he smiled and pressed a tender kiss to the child’s forehead as they both held the white string together. Wolfe and Sennin knelt on mats just behind them.
Azula closed his eyes as the monks began chanting their blessings with deep, resonant sincerity. The entire hall fell utterly still, the low, collective hum of the prayers vibrating through the large hall. The head monk dipped a leafy branch into an earthenware bowl, sprinkling lotus-infused water over Azula and Ruri, before standing to cast the blessed water over the lines of soldiers who still stood unmoving in the pews. When the final prayers faded into silence, Azula extended his right hand to the head monk, who tied a thick red protective string around his wrist. The monk tied a matching red string around Ruri’s smaller wrist.
Azula thanked the monk with a solemn nod, then stood up, taking Ruri by the hand as they moved to sit next to Alise. Wolfe and Sennin then stepped forward to have the red strings tied around their own wrists, followed by the rest of the traveling soldiers, who approached the dais in silent, orderly ranks. When the string-tying ritual concluded, the monks offered a final benediction prayer, bringing the ceremony to a close. Azula thanked them, and once the monks departed, Alise stepped up to the dais.
“The soldiers are blessed, the journey planned,” Alise said, her voice clear and carrying through the hall. “Let’s keep the prince and his guard in our thoughts as they take on this journey. After this, Prince Azula will head to the docks to board the Tempest. If you still have goodbyes to say, the ship will be boarding for the next four hours.”
Alise’s words closed the formal proceedings, and a low murmur of urgent activity erupted as everyone hurried out to make their final preparations. Azula turned back and walked directly toward Raithion.
“A carriage will take you to your boat at the old dock so you can get to your ship,” Azula said, his voice even, though his eyes carried the lingering solemnity of the ritual. “We’ll cast off when the tide is right and meet you at the Lyrian coast.”
“We’ll need to coordinate when we disembark at the Endless Port,” Raithion said, his own voice sounding rougher, heavier than he intended.
Looking at Azula now, stripped of his easygoing exterior and fully inhabiting his station, Raithion felt an overwhelming urge to say something more; to break past the safe, diplomatic walls they had built between them, but he could not find the right words.
“We’ll follow your arrangements in Lyria,” Azula said, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Safe trip, Draeya Prince.”
Raithion nodded, suppressing the words tightly locked in his throat. He reached out, his hand enveloping Azula’s offered hand in a firm, lingering grip that felt too much like an important promise.
****
The Sura Clan ship was built to transport cargo, its stunning white sails designed to catch the wind for maximum speed under a heavy load. The deep timber hull was engineered to haul massive quantities of goods, from delicate ceramic wares to farming tools and complete carriages. The ships were also constructed to ferry vast stores of grain.
Azula always ensured the island’s granaries were stocked. Even if it meant trading for grain in Nerasa, he would fill a ship to capacity to bring the grain back to the island; he never wanted to see his people on the verge of starvation again.
Yet, as the Sura ship neared the Lyrian coast a week later, the sprawling docks of the Endless Port rising in the distance, Azula’s chest tightened. His heartbeat raced with a restless, nameless emotion, neither anticipation nor fear, but a cold, hard vigilance. This Kingdom of Lyria had truly defeated him the first time he landed on its shores. He braced his boots against the deck, studying the horizon. He had been blindsided once. It would not happen again. He was walking back into the Basileus’s territory, but this time, he was ready to fight back.
Azula took in a deep breath and let it out, crossing his arms against his chest. Would he win, or lose everything again?
Thankfully, this time, he was the only one taking the risk. His family was safe on Sura Island. Alise and Juya would protect their people, and Ruri would eventually take up the mantle. The island was secured thanks to Tanya Nuovis, Magnus, and Lasma. If the worst came to pass, they could sail to the Nerasa Kingdom, where they held friendly ties.
As long as they have a way out, Azula thought as Sennin and Wolfe joined him to watch their approach to the Lyrian coast.
Azula had already noticed that Raithion’s ship was docked in the old dockyard where the Sura had run a warehouse five years ago. They had lost the right to operate the warehouse upon their exile. Now, the building looked well-maintained; it appeared someone else had taken it over. A lot had changed in their absence.
“Whoever is running the old warehouse is directing us to use the old dock,” Wolfe said, holding a brass spyglass to his eye as he studied the movement on the Endless Port shores. “Prince Draeya has multiple soldiers populating the streets and surrounding the old warehouse. It looks like they have pushed civilians away from the area. What do you think he is planning?”
Azula refrained from commenting. He had not spoken to Raithion since they left the island. All he kept thinking about was watching Ruri wave goodbye to him with a bright smile while being held up in Magnus’s arms. That boy, so young and innocent; he already missed him so much. He would miss Ruri’s little antics and his macadamia-eating mania.
“Are you going to say something?” Sennin asked when Azula stayed silent too long.
“We are here now,” Azula said, patting his left breast pocket. The warrant Raithion had brought was tucked securely inside his inner coat. “There’s no turning back now. At most, we battle it out and choose to run back to our ship and sail home. Or we see it through and wait to see if we’ll find the answers we came for.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Sennin asked.
“The kind that gets us docked on the shore,” Azula said. “Wolfe, I’m already holding the warrant they gave us. We just have to see where it takes us.”
“I won’t raise doubts anymore,” Wolfe said. “You’re right. We are already in Lyria. I’ll trust your judgment, Your Highness. The Jinyi will protect you well. Trust in that truth.”
“Mm,” Azula nodded, offering a faint smile.
Wolfe was sly in his own way. He had orchestrated a great show of collecting voluntary soldiers for the sake of Raithion and his curious group. It had left them feeling that the Sura had truly put all their efforts together to protect Azula on a dangerous journey.
However, the forty soldiers who boarded the Tempest all belonged to the secret guard used to protect the Sura Island prince. Tanya and Wolfe called them the Jinyi. Like Azula, they had not married and had no family ties. They had come into being when Azula was still in Nerasa and had to fight off mercenaries who did their best to scare their workshop yard away from the coast. There had been thieves keen on stealing their tools, and mercenaries who thought killing him would stop Trevan from gaining favor in the Nerasa palace.
So, Trevan invited Wolfe and a select group of young men and women with no ties to train in a harsh program that turned them ruthless and deadly. They were Azula’s primary guard, and they were the ones he traveled with when he left the island. The regular soldiers were left behind to protect the people.
Azula was not worried about being attacked in Lyria. No, he worried the Jinyi would frighten everyone they met when they got serious. Letting out a soft sigh, he decided not to think too much about what came next. Now was the time to go with the flow and see what Raithion and the Lyria Kingdom had in store for him.
****
Raithion watched the Sura Clan ship approach the old, weathered warehouse they had once used. The captain of the Tempest was skilled, but then again, the Sura had always possessed expert navigators who knew the rocky Lyrian Coast like the backs of their hands.
He smiled at the thought and took a step forward, eager to see Azula. Standing at the end of the path leading from the dock to the main road, he turned when he heard a laugh and saw Haedor approaching alongside the Endless Port magistrate. Raithion wanted to assure Azula that he was willing to help him fight for the clan’s innocence. Azula’s protective wall was so high, however, that he had no idea how to penetrate it. He was going to start throwing everything he had at it, hoping it would crack at some point.
The magistrate had long since changed from the corrupt official Azula had first met five years ago. The old gentleman serving as magistrate now was a grandfather of five and full of wisdom. The Endless Port now ran in a clean, orderly manner, with no merchant facing the weight of bribes or unfair fines for cargo.
The Sura Clan ship docked with ease.
Raithion turned to greet the magistrate.
“Magistrate Evander, thank you for making the time,” Raithion said.
“This is an important matter,” Evander said. “The Naga State King has been curious about the wares the travelers talk about from Sura Island, and he’s been curious about the new Prince of the Sura. I hoped they would sail our way. The tools they sell to travelers are truly rare. Do you think they are here to start trading with us again?”
“Whatever their purpose, they must be received with the respect due to a foreign nation,” Raithion said. “No honors can be lacking. Pass it on to every office along the main road to Genad City by my order.”
“I will, Draeya Commandery Prince,” Evander said.
The Sura ship lowered its cargo ramp, a large, wide affair that opened with a quiet, oiled hum. Raithion nodded to Haedor, who signaled the soldiers lining the walkway to the dock to step back to where they stood.
At the same time, Azula emerged from the ship, walking down the ramp with lazy charm. He looked very much like a prince. His fine dark green floor-length overcoat swept the wood as he walked, and the sun glinted on the gold on his shoulders and the rich embroidery at his wrists. His pace was slow and unhurried, his fingers curled into loose fists as he stepped down to the dock.
Azula stopped, took a deep breath, and stared up at the sky. He paused for a minute, as though waiting for the heavens to respond to his disembarking. Then, he looked at Raithion before giving him a slow, calculated smile.
Raithion started to step forward, only to stop when the soldiers he had expected did not appear. Instead, a group dressed in black leather followed Azula out of the Tempest.
They did not wear the official uniform Raithion had grown used to seeing on the island. No, the ones who walked out of the ship were trained assassins. Their footsteps were completely silent. They wore black leather: form-fitting trousers, and jackets with hidden weapons framing their bodies. Their jackets had hoods that they had all pulled over their heads. The form-fitting clothes allowed him to see that there was a mix of men and women. When they reached Azula, they flanked him with ease. Behind the group were only two people Raithion recognized: Wolfe, who wore dark clothes matching the assassins, and Sennin, who wore a plain wool trench coat, a black tunic, and trousers. He was the only one dressed like a civilian.
Azula stretched his arms above his head for a moment, then clasped his hands behind his back and started walking along the dock path, approaching Raithion’s group. The contingent of assassins moved with him, while Wolfe and Sennin kept pace right behind their prince.
Azula had made no effort to hide his hair. It was left to fall down his back in a brilliant, cascading waterfall. A few strands held it back from his face, but he made no secret of his roots as a Sura Clan member. Wolfe’s hair was dense with braids holding it in a tight ponytail, while Sennin had fewer braids. Their heritage was proudly on display.
“What happened to the nice soldiers who were in the blessing ceremony?” Haedor asked next to Raithion.
“I suspect they were just there to pray for their prince’s safe journey to Lyria,” Raithion said, impressed by Azula’s guard and how they moved in absolute silence. There was no sound to their approach. It was unnerving.
Azula stopped a few feet away from him.
“Draeya Prince, we have landed on your shores,” Azula said in greeting. “What is next?”
“Your Highness, Prince Azula Doriel of the Sura Nation,” Evander said, stepping forward. “I welcome you to the Endless Port and the Lyria Kingdom on behalf of the Lyria Kingdom’s Basileus.”
“Oh,” Azula said, his brow lifting in surprise. He turned to Raithion, his hands still clasped tightly behind his back. “Once again, you force me to meet a magistrate at the Endless Port. What is your plan, Master of the Blades of Ashes?”
Raithion winced at the return of that terrible nickname. He pushed back the sting and forced himself to find a way to break into Azula’s defenses.
“The magistrate means no harm to you,” Raithion said. “He is simply affording you the same respect we give to all our foreign dignitaries. If you would like to start your investigation in this port, I will assist. The magistrate is willing to start the process—”
“I decline this opportunity,” Azula said. “I’m still holding a report from the Endless Port Magistrate that was never honored. What now?”
Raithion glanced at Evander, who was taken aback by Azula’s plain rejection.
“The magistrate has changed—” Raithion started.
“Changed, died, been removed, quit…I don’t care,” Azula said. “How about we listen to my suggestion? Will you agree, Draeya Prince?”
“Yes,” Raithion said.
Azula studied him for a minute, then nodded. “You promised me the whereabouts of a thief,” Azula reminded him.
“Yes, I promised,” Raithion said.
“Are you still willing to honor this promise?” Azula asked.
“I’m willing,” Raithion said.
“Then, once you honor that promise, the only thing I want to do after is meet the Basileus. Being the Draeya Prince, the Commandery Prince of the armies of this kingdom, surely you can make the arrangements.”
Raithion held Azula’s gaze for a long moment before he sighed and nodded.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Raithion said. “The journey to retrieve what you need will require a detour. Your ship… the magistrate and the port guard will make sure nothing happens to it.”
“Oh,” Azula said, then smiled, though the expression remained entirely dead behind his eyes. He turned to look at Sennin, who faced the ship and made a sharp signal with his right hand.
There was a heavy rumbling from the Sura ship, and soon five intricately designed carriages, a mix of dark wood and reinforced metal, rolled out of the hold, each led by four majestic horses. The assassin guard moved with efficient, silent ease to help the ship’s crew, and soon all five carriages lined the path leading to the main road.
The last carriage was one Raithion recognized. He had ridden in one just like it on Sura Island, so he assumed it was reserved for Azula. The other four looked like the cargo carriages that had once carried Sura ore years ago, except they now featured small windows and looked to be outfitted to accommodate passengers.
Azula blew a sharp whistle from his left sleeve, and the cargo ramp rose with a mechanical snap. A sudden callout to pull away echoed, and the ship immediately began to clear the dock.
Azula gave the departing vessel a single glance before turning his gaze back to Raithion.
“No need to trouble your magistrate or the port guard,” Azula said, his voice dropping an octave, devoid of warmth.
Raithion swallowed the sharp spike of frustration rising in his throat. Every word out of Azula’s mouth was a calculated shield, a reminder of how thoroughly he had broken the man’s trust. It cut deep, but Raithion forced his posture to remain steady. He wouldn’t back down. If he had to spend every waking second earning Azula’s trust, he would. He would weather this cold front for as long as it took to melt the ice.
“How will you get home?” Raithion asked, keeping his tone carefully even, offering an anchor through the hostility.
“There will be a way when it’s time,” Azula replied. “These are my carriages. They hold my soldiers and our luggage. They follow me wherever I go, whether to Nerasa or Lyria. Accommodate them.”
Raithion took in the grim perimeter. The assassins had already distributed themselves with militaristic precision, ten guarding each vehicle, with a trio of lethal-looking specialists flanking Azula’s personal carriage. Azula was playing a highly guarded game, signaling that he relied on no one but his own people.
Fine, Raithion thought, a fierce, quiet determination settling deep in his chest. Azula’s people had their plans, so he would have to follow his own path until Azula learned how to trust him.
“Magistrate Evander,” Raithion commanded, his voice ringing with absolute authority. “Send a message to the Commandery Prince’s office in the capital. Inform my father to arrange an audience with Basileus Dio. Tell him it is an official state visit from a reigning prince. We shall arrive in three weeks.”
“I’ll see to the arrangements immediately, Prince Raithion,” Evander said.
Raithion turned back to Azula, stepping just close enough to show he refused to be intimidated by the lethal guard. “Would you like to rest at Endless Port first—”
“No.” Azula cut him off with a curt shake of his head, his eyes narrowed in absolute vigilance. “The faster you take me to find what I need, the better.”
“As you wish,” Raithion said softly, holding his ground. “Since you are officially under the protection of the Commandery Prince, do you object to my personal vanguard escorting your carriages?”
“As long as they are only protecting and not interfering with my people, I have no objections,” Azula said.
“I will safeguard your life as long as you are in Lyria,” Raithion said, looking directly into Azula’s guarded eyes, desperate for him to see the absolute truth in the vow, reminding Azula that he was on his side.
Once again, they were standing at Endless port, and Raithion was offering a second promise. Remembering the disastrous fallout of the first, Raithion couldn’t blame Azula for the hyper-vigilant glare or the cynical twist of his lips.
Azula stared at him for a long, agonizing beat, as though searching for a lie, before turning on his heel without a word to board his carriage.
Wolfe stepped forward, his hand resting casually near his blade. “We’ll follow your logistics on this journey, Draeya Prince. Do not make us regret it.”
Raithion watched silently as Azula disappeared behind the heavy door of the carriage. Azula’s guard moved the carriages, then shuffled them until Azula’s carriage was in the middle of the line of five carriages. Only then did the assassin guard board their carriages, and a suffocating, heavy silence fell over the docks.
“We were such close friends on the island,” Haedor murmured from Raithion’s side, his voice heavy with a melancholy lament. “Why must he be so hostile the moment he steps onto Lyrian soil?”
“He’s risking everything just by standing here, Haedor. He’s trying his best to trust us in the only way he knows how,” Raithion said softly, his eyes fixed on the center carriage. The determination burning in his chest outweighed the sting of Azula’s coldness. “The best we can do now is absorb their wariness and prove we can be trusted.”
“Fine. It’s a good thing we sent the young prince and princess ahead with Dain. They missed this terrifying spectacle,” Haedor added, shaking his head.
Raithion chuckled as he realized Azula had at least managed to make a terrifying spectacle of himself to all those who saw the Sura Prince step on Lyria soil for the first time in five years. The assassin guards around Azula looked too formidable.
“Let’s go to Draeya County,” Raithion said to Haedor. He hoped the surprise he had kept for Azula would thaw out the worst of the ice around Azula’s heart.
****
The journey from the port city to Raithion’s destination felt endless. Azula spent most of it insulated within his carriage, eating and drinking, only stepping out to relieve and refresh himself when the convoy stopped at roadside inns.
“You’ve lived in this carriage for three days, eating, sleeping, and completely ignoring the Draeya Prince’s people. What’s your plan?” Sennin asked.
Azula shifted the plush pillow under his head, settling into a more comfortable position, and crossed his right leg over his left. The carriage bench was deeply cushioned, and the rhythmic, rocking motion of the vehicle was thoroughly soothing. He turned the page of the romance novel he had brought from the island, letting out a soft chuckle as he read a particularly amusing scene.
“Azu?” Sennin prompted, his voice tight with impatience.
“Mm.” Azula glanced at his best friend once, then sighed. “I’m sure we packed those action serials you like reading. Grab one and occupy yourself. I won’t have answers for you for a while.”
“You know we’re not taking the main road,” Sennin countered, peering anxiously out the window. “The Draeya Prince’s legion officers are riding on massive warhorses, flanking our carriages. We’re being transported like precious cargo. We aren’t heading toward the capital.”
“If we’re not, then we’re not,” Azula said smoothly. “We need whatever leverage he holds before we can safely meet the Basileus. Without it, we might as well walk into the palace empty-handed. He told us to trust him, so that is exactly what we are doing. You need to relax.”
Azula reached into the tin Alise had packed for them, selected a thick oatmeal-nut cookie, and held it out to Sennin.
“As long as no one is swinging a sword or raining arrows down on our heads, we have nothing to worry about,” Azula added, offering Sennin a reassuring wink before turning his attention back to the pages. “Now, shh. This chapter is hilarious, and I want to concentrate.”
Sennin sighed, biting into the cookie with clear frustration before refocusing his vigilance on the passing road.
Azula read his novel until his eyes grew heavy, finally falling asleep as twilight fell. They spent another full night traveling. Then, roughly an hour after sunrise, Wolfe rode back to report to their carriage. They had been on the road for four consecutive days.
“We’re almost there,” Wolfe announced, boarding the moving carriage with practiced ease and leaving his horse’s lead to one of the trailing soldiers.
Azula woke with a start, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. He took the flask of cold water Sennin extended, taking a healthy swig to swish around his mouth before leaning out the window to spit it onto the dirt road. He used the moment to survey the lush, rolling landscape. The carriage was fast approaching a massive, fortified stone wall where sentries prowled the high battlements. The iron gates ahead stood wide open, and the Lyrian riders flanking the convoy seemed excited. It was clear they were thrilled to finally be home.
Azula closed the window as a heavy, suffocating wave of anxiety crashed over him. The casual, carefree persona he had maintained for days evaporated in an instant. He reached for his floor-length overcoat, the heavy, gold-embroidered armor of his royal station, which he had discarded when they first began the journey. Slipping his arms into the sleeves, he felt the familiar, grounding weight of the fabric, but it did little to quiet the frantic racing of his heart.
Every protective instinct he possessed screamed at him. He knew absolutely nothing about the intricate, lethal web of the Lyria Kingdom’s court politics, only that the monster at the apex of that structure had broken his clan on a callous whim. He prayed his fragile trust in Raithion was not misplaced.
Azula dragged a deep breath into his lungs, desperate to quell the tremors of panic threatening to break through his mask. He closed his eyes, his mind flashing to the sharp angle of Raithion’s jaw, the quiet intensity in the man’s eyes when he had promised his protection.
Raithion, please, Azula thought, a silent, desperate plea aching in his chest. Don’t let me down.
When he opened his eyes, the cold mask had returned to his gaze, flawless and impenetrable.
“Be alert,” Azula commanded Wolfe, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative whisper. It was the only armor he could provide his men in a place where his own power meant nothing.
Wolfe nodded, his expression hardening in silent understanding, before slipping out of the compartment to remount his horse. As Wolfe rode to the front of the convoy, Azula looked across the carriage, meeting Sennin’s deeply wary eyes with a tense, solemn gaze of his own.
****
Raithion had always loved returning home to Draeya. The Maenaer Estate was as vibrant as ever; farmers were already busy tending their rice fields, others were working the potato fields, and several were managing the expansive vegetable gardens. Raithion rode at the front of the large convoy, naturally greeting everyone who called out to him as they passed through the main gates.
It was early morning, and Raithion remained acutely conscious of the five carriages following close behind him, carrying the members of the Sura Clan. He did not want to linger on the outer edges of the sprawling estate, opting instead to maintain a brisk pace until they reached the inner grounds. Only then did he slow his mount as they approached the three-story manor his family called their ancestral home.
Deep red bougainvillea still cascaded over the four towering pillars at the entrance, the blossoms vivid against the smooth white stones. Raithion took in the graceful arches and the expansive terraces, with their lush balcony gardens on the upper floors, like a man discovering a long-lost oasis. The heavy front doors swung open, and he smiled as he saw Daron rushing out, followed closely by Sharian.
“Lord Raith!” Daron called. “You’re finally home. Welcome back!”
“Thank you,” Raithion said, smoothly dismounting his horse. “How are the children?”
“They arrived two days ago,” Daron replied. “They’re safely settled in the west wing. Everything is arranged, and Jaguar has moved back to look after Young Lord Yulin. Jaguar says he will begin the boy’s education immediately.”
“That’s excellent news,” Raithion said, pulling off his leather riding gloves. “We have an important guest. Ask everyone to treat him and his people with the utmost respect. He will be staying in my private residence. Arrange for his entourage to occupy the guest wing, and ensure no one outside the estate learns who they are for now.”
“What should I say if anyone inquires?” Daron asked.
“Just say I returned with legion officers from the port city,” Raithion instructed.
“I’ll ensure this visit stays private,” Daron promised as the five carriages finally rolled to a stop at the front entrance.
Haedor led Wolfe to halt the carriages, maneuvering carefully to ensure the specific carriage carrying Azula came to a stop directly before the main steps. Raithion stepped forward, his heart hammering against his ribs, and opened the carriage door himself.
Azula paused for a moment before stepping down into the crisp morning air.
Daron caught his breath audibly at the sight of the Sura Prince, his eyes widening in sheer astonishment.
Raithion silently envied Daron’s freedom to openly express that awe. In the golden morning light, Azula looked breathtakingly handsome, almost painfully so. The early sun caught the rich, strawberry-blonde strands of his hair, turning them into a brilliant halo of fire, while his heavy-lidded, amber eyes sent a familiar, aching warmth straight through Raithion’s chest.
Azula looked beautifully disheveled and sleepy, as though he had been wrenched from a deep slumber, and it took everything in Raithion not to reach out and smooth down the stray locks.
“Welcome to the Maenaer Estate in Draeya County,” Raithion said as Azula looked around.
Azula adjusted the lapels of his heavy coat and looked up, his gaze tracking the crimson flowers twisting around the four white pillars framing the entrance.
“How majestic,” Azula murmured, as he took in the vivid blooms. “Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Raithion said, his voice dropping, carrying an unspoken plea. “I want you to feel at ease here.”
“How long will we stay?” Azula asked, his eyes darting toward his guard as they quietly disembarked from the surrounding carriages, immediately forming a defensive perimeter.
“We’ve had an exhausting journey,” Raithion said, matching Azula’s cautious tone. “Rest today. Get a hot meal and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, I promise I will take you to see what you came to find. After that, you can decide whether you wish to stay or proceed to the capital city.”
Azula searched Raithion’s face, evaluating the offer before nodding slowly. “Since we are all exhausted, let’s do as you suggest. I only ask that you treat my people with the same consideration you extend to me.”
“They will have everything they need, Azula. You have my word,” Raithion vowed.
“Very well. I will trust you on this,” Azula said, holding Raithion’s gaze with a heavy, deliberate intensity that made Raithion’s chest tighten.
“Come inside. Let me show you where you can rest,” Raithion said, gesturing toward the entrance. Azula glanced back at Sennin, nodding once, then exchanged a reassuring glance with Wolfe before stepping past the threshold.
Raithion led the way into the expansive atrium, tracking Azula’s movements out of the corner of his eye. He caught the exact moment Azula looked up at the vaulted glass ceiling arched high above, which allowed the pale morning sunlight to flood the airy, open space.
A faint, genuine curve touched Azula’s lips at the sight of the clear blue sky overhead, and a profound sense of relief washed over Raithion.
They walked in silence across the polished marble floors, turning down a wide corridor that led toward the enclosed sunlit walkway Raithion had pined for during his long years away. He checked over his shoulder again, just to make sure Azula was still there, walking with him.
It felt surreal.
For years, Raithion had closed his eyes and dreamed of bringing Azula to this very house, agonizing over a future that felt impossible. To see him here now, walking these halls, felt like a beautiful, fragile dream he couldn’t afford to break.
Reaching the heavy double doors of his private wing, Raithion pushed them open. The inner hall was bright, and the light, sheer curtains were pulled back to let the daylight illuminate the large, comfortable living area. Azula paused, taking in the space with a small, appreciative smile. Raithion masked his own joy, guiding Azula down a wide hallway to the guest quarters.
The room was pristine, featuring a cozy sitting area and a large bed shielded by a beautifully carved, colorful wooden screen. The curtains had been drawn back from the large windows, framing a panoramic view of the estate’s vibrant, sun-drenched lotus gardens.
“You can stay here,” Raithion said, keeping his tone soft, intentionally stripping away the formal distance between them. “My own quarters are just further down the corridor. There is a private sunken bath at the end of the hall; it will have fresh hot water ready every morning and evening. I’ll have Sharian bring in anything you require.”
“Thank you,” Azula said. He let out a small, unguarded yawn, wincing slightly as he smelled his clothes. “If it’s no trouble, I would like to bathe first, then sleep. It has been a grueling four days.”
Raithion’s heart softened completely at the display of vulnerability. “Of course. Let me show you the bath now, and I’ll ensure Sharian brings the linens immediately.”
Azula followed him down the hall without protest.
Watching him, Raithion felt a familiar pang of sorrow. The polished, cautious politeness between them felt like a physical weight. He hungered for the carefree, teasing Azula he had known once; the man who laughed without reservation.
Soon, Raithion promised himself, opening the door to the room with the sunken bath. I will win him back, piece by piece.
****
The sunken bath was an intoxicating experience. It was a luxurious moment to be enveloped in the steaming hot water until he felt like all the tension in his body was released in one go. Azula came out of his hot bath feeling refreshed but deeply sleepy. He wrapped a large black towel left on a stool for him around his hips and, on bare feet, walked out of the bathroom. He headed to the room Raithion had assigned to him and fell on the large, comfortable bed face down.
Azula slept without dreaming the moment his head touched the soft pillow.
****
Raithion spent most of his time making sure Wolfe and Sennin were settled in the main house. Their guard was also given rooms in the guest wing. Then, he coordinated with Daron to make sure meals, baths, and changes of clean clothes were well handled by trusted staff. After that was handled, the estate’s managers came to greet him, eager to share reports, and just like that, he was taken over by responsibilities. When he returned to his personal residence, the sun was sinking on the horizon, and it was to discover that Azula had slept the whole day away.
Raithion wanted to wake Azula for the evening meal, but he hesitated. He wanted Azula to rest enough after their arduous journey. He opened the door to Azula’s room and crossed the sitting area with quiet, muffled steps. He came to a stop by the bed and pushed away the burgundy curtains hanging around the large, four-poster bed.
His heart squeezed violently when he saw Azula deep asleep on the bed.
Azula lay on his stomach, the dark towel at his hips hung dangerously low, barely clinging to the curve of his buttocks, leaving the broad, smooth expanse of his back entirely exposed to Raithion’s hungry gaze, and he was tempted to touch, tempted to kiss. It was a sight that made Raithion’s pulse stutter; a silent invitation that felt almost sinful to behold.
He stepped closer, unable to resist, as he traced the ink of the prayer lines etched into Azula’s skin. He caught a loose, strawberry-blonde strand between his fingers, rolling the silk-soft length against his pads, savoring the contrast of his rougher hands against such softness. Azula let out a low, subconscious sigh, shifting onto his side. Raithion reluctantly released the hair, his control fraying as he moved to avoid waking him, worried that one wrong touch would pull on Azula’s hair and cause him pain.
As Azula moved, the towel dipped further. Raithion’s breath hitched, the air catching thick and hot in his throat as his eyes tracked the elegant diagonal grooves running from Azula’s hips down to his pelvis that dipped down into a shadow of fine, golden dusting of hair, teasing the heavy length barely concealed beneath the tangled fabric.
Raithion reached out, his instinct to pull the towel up warring with a fierce, possessive need to peel it away entirely. His palm hovered inches from the smooth, flat plane of Azula’s stomach, his skin humming with the phantom sensation of touch. He imagined his hand sliding downward, imagined the way Azula would arch and groan, leaning into the friction of his palm. His mind spun out into a vivid, agonizing fantasy. If he lowered his palm, if he dragged his fingertips across that sensitive skin, would Azula wake with a low moan of surrender?
Would he arch into the contact, his skin flushing hot under Raithion’s touch, melting the icy defenses that kept them apart? The mere thought made Raithion’s own body harden instantly, a fierce, throbbing ache pulling tight and heavy in his trousers. He stood paralyzed, drinking in the sight of the sleeping prince until his face burned with a sharp, illicit flush.
Knowing he was dangerously close to losing his self-control, Raithion stepped back from the bed. He forced himself to turn away and abandoned any pretense of waking Azula. He practically fled the room, closing the door behind him, his pulse hammering, and the scorching, near-tangible image of Azula’s half-naked body burned permanently into his mind.
*****
Azula woke the next morning feeling well-rested and hungry. His stomach growled, a sharp, low rumble in the quiet room, and he sat up with a sigh in the middle of the bed, naked. He had lost his towel during the night, and his hair was a tangled mess falling over his eyes. Pushing the strands back, he let out a yawn and looked around the bright room, shocked that he had managed to get such deep rest in Raithion’s home.
Smiling, he lay back on the plush pillows and stared at the canopy above. For a single moment, he imagined living here with Raithion. Closing his eyes, he let the fantasy take shape: Raithion walking into the room holding a breakfast tray. He imagined Raithion sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning over, and pressing a warm kiss to his lips. The image was so vivid that Azula brought his fingertips to his mouth, tasting the phantom warmth. Then, he opened his eyes. He remembered exactly why he was here: to collect the evidence meant to exonerate his clan, and the dream faded.
He forced himself to get up and get dressed for the day. He had slept too long, and today was the day Raithion would prove his sincerity.
Once again, Azula hoped Raithion would not let him down.
****
Azula emerged from his room dressed for the day. Someone had brought his trunk into his room while he slept. He wore a simple leather jacket, a blue tunic with an open collar, and black trousers. The boots he chose were well-used, easy for walking and to run around in. He tied his hair into a tight ponytail with a leather string. After brushing his teeth and freshening up with water in a stone sink in a small washroom tucked into the corner of his room, he left the quarters and followed the corridor to the large living area he had seen when he first arrived.
He was not surprised to see Raithion seated at a table, busy reading documents.
Raithion still wore black, even though he was in a simple tunic and comfortable trousers. His hair was loose today, and he looked more relaxed. He got up the moment he noticed Azula.
“Morning,” Azula said. “How is everyone?”
“Morning. Everyone is well-fed and rested. They have everything they need, as you asked. Only you haven’t eaten much. Are you hungry, Azula?”
Azula’s stomach growled in answer, though Raithion could not hear it. He rested his hand against his stomach and nodded.
“I’m starving,” Azula said.
Raithion smiled and moved away from the table where he sat working. He approached Azula, looking devastatingly handsome, his feet clad in knee-length riding boots. The collar of his dark tunic was left open, and Raithion’s hair fell around his shoulders. He looked so handsome that Azula took a few sharp breaths as he met green eyes filled with concern for him.
“I’ll feed you,” Raithion said, stopping in front of him. “Daron knows all your favorites.”
“How?” Azula asked as Raithion took his left arm and guided him out of the living area. They crossed to the hall, took a turn to the left, and entered a spacious dining hall with a round table that could seat twelve guests.
“Sennin told him,” Raithion answered.
“Why are there not many people in this place?” Azula asked as he was guided to a seat at the round table. Raithion helped him push his chair in and then hurried to pull a bell on the wall by the door.
“This is my personal residence,” Raithion said. “I don’t let everyone stay here. I like the quiet, and often stay here when I come home.”
“Who stays in the main house?” Azula asked, curious about Raithion’s ancestral home.
Raithion returned to sit next to him on his right.
“My parents live in the main house. It’s Draeya Duke’s ancestral home.”
“Ah,” Azula nodded. “So, it will be yours in time, as you’re the Maenaer heir.”
“Yes,” Raithion said without hesitation. “Because of that, there have been many sacrifices and concessions made. But this residence here is my place. I have never compromised it, and I really wanted you to see it, Azula.”
“Why?” Azula asked.
“Because,” Raithion smiled, a carefree smile that brightened his green eyes. “I don’t know. Let’s say it’s because I had a great time staying on Sura Island. Your house was beautiful. The healing cove was peaceful. I loved Ruri’s grilled fish and your sister’s hospitality. So, I truly wanted to share my sanctuary with you.”
Azula studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Why did you hide the evidence here?”
Raithion started to explain, but a knock came on the door, and Daron opened it, inviting in a team of four young men who carried platters of food and cutlery. There was rice porridge, a platter with sliced cured meats, slices of brown bread, chunks of cheese, and fruit, along with strawberry jam. Azula was grateful when one of the men poured him a hot mug of black tea and placed it before him. He took an appreciative, warming sip as the attendants placed a warmer with a large teapot on the table. Daron invited them to eat, then left the dining room, closing the door behind him.
Azula picked up a spoon and took a few bites of his porridge before he reached for a slice of bread, placed some cheese and a slice of savory meat on it, and took a healthy bite. Raithion let him eat for a moment, then he took a mug of tea and sipped.
Azula glanced at him, still waiting for an answer to his question.
“When I was married to Naeri,” Raithion said, “I could not keep anything I wanted to hide in the city manor. Her family always had spies lingering around her. So, I sent anything of importance here to Draeya County. Since the day I was forced to give up on closing the forged silver coin case, I have sent everything relevant to that case here, waiting for the right moment to retrieve everything.”
“Retrieve everything?” Azula asked, glancing at Raithion between bites.
“You might not believe it, but I have always regretted what happened to your clan, and not being able to conclude that case as it deserved,” Raithion said. “Every decision I’ve made since has been designed to allow me to escape the helplessness that came from that day. I never want to feel so powerless again.”
Azula frowned as he ate. How could he and Raithion be so similar? Hadn’t he pushed the development of Sura Island because he, too, never wanted to feel so helpless?
“And have you reached a point where you can escape the helplessness?” Azula asked, looking into Raithion’s green eyes.
“I think I have,” Raithion said. “When Yulin was poisoned, I had no other choice but to reach that point. I’m glad it worked out when I took a gamble on your island. I’m free of the yoke of the palace and feel free, thanks to you and your people.”
Azula studied Raithion for a minute, then concentrated on eating his breakfast. After a moment of silence, Azula sighed.
“Draeya Prince, you think too much,” Azula chided. “Aren’t you worried your brain will break?”
Raithion burst out laughing, and the rich, resonant sound of it made Azula smile as he drank his tea.
After a peaceful breakfast, Azula felt the wave of anxiety return as Raithion turned somber. Raithion excused himself when they left the dining room, heading to his quarters to find a coat.
Azula paced the living room, finding himself by the table where Raithion had been working. The documents on the table were sale requests, budget adjustments, and warehouse tallies for stored grain, among other things. Azula recognized the manager reports because he, too, read enough in a day when he was at Sura Island. He stepped away, not wanting to snoop.
Raithion returned soon after, dressed in a black coat, ready to go out.
“I want us to ride horses to where I’m taking you. I know your guard is for your safety, but I’ll ask you to bring only Sennin and Wolfe. I’d like to say the estate is free from prying eyes, but Gesi Ajai has a long reach. I don’t want to make a mistake after so long,” Raithion said.
“Alright,” Azula said as they left Raithion’s personal residence.
Instead of going to the front of the main house, they headed to the back, where a large door led them out into a busy courtyard filled with flowerpots, benches, and staff busy cleaning up.
Daron met them by a smaller door that led them out of the courtyard toward a vibrant kitchen garden.
“I’ve prepared the horses and asked Sennin and Wolfe to wait with Haedor. Sharian rode ahead to alert your contact,” Daron said.
“Thank you,” Raithion said, then guided Azula down a narrow path to a clearing where everyone waited.
“Morning, Prince Azu,” Wolfe said when he saw him, giving him a once-over before he smiled. “You look well.”
“Morning,” Azula said, and smiled at Sennin, who was mounting his horse. “How are you guys?”
“Very happy,” Sennin said with a nod as he settled on his horse. “Everything has been very comfortable here.”
Azula took the reins of his horse from Daron and mounted with practiced ease.
“Let’s go,” Raithion said once they were all mounted.
Raithion took the lead, with Haedor taking up the rear. Azula guided his horse after Raithion, flanked by Wolfe and Sennin. They rode into a forest where the paths looked overgrown, but Raithion seemed to know them quite well and never hesitated as he led the way.
Azula’s frown deepened the more they went into the evergreen forest. He was curious beyond belief what Raithion had brought to Draeya County to hide.
Raithion drove a persistent pace, not letting them slow down to look around even once. They rode for thirty minutes, then Raithion slowed his horse and crossed a thick fence made with bougainvillea. They entered a hidden village.
The gates were manned by an old man who peered at them for a minute before he recognized Raithion. When he did, he pushed open the wooden gate and let Haedor close it after they entered the wide dirt road. Beyond the thick fence was a large settlement of farms. It looked like over forty acres divided into homesteads. Azula gripped his reins hard as Raithion’s pace slowed.
“Who lives here?” Azula asked as they rode along the dirt paths.
Raithion turned down a path, then led them to a small gate.
Raithion gave him a small smile, then dismounted his horse, holding on to the reins as he opened the gate. Haedor followed Raithion and took their horses, tying their reins to a rock by the entrance. Azula, Wolfe, and Sennin all dismounted, securing their horses to the rocks outside the gate, too.
Azula followed Raithion into the compound. Inside was a cottage house with a neat yard. A dog barked, and the front door of the farm cottage opened.
“Who comes in?” the question came.
“It’s me,” Raithion said. “I have someone you should meet. Come out.”
Azula frowned as he removed his riding gloves. Raithion stood a few feet away, and Azula started to hurry forward to ask what was going on, only to stop when an old man with strawberry blonde hair dusted with gray emerged.
Azula gaped.
“Lord Raith,” the old man said in greeting.
“Oren, come closer. I have someone to introduce to you,” Raithion said.
Azula stood frozen.
Oren drew closer, looking at the newcomers. Then, he pressed his hands against his mouth and let out a soft, shocked moan.
“Chieftain!” Oren said. “Oh, the fates have turned. Our Sura Chieftain!”
“How did you know?” Haedor asked as he came to stand next to Raithion. Wolfe and Sennin followed behind him, and both gasped when they saw Oren.
Azula touched the carnelian stone around his neck. The stone rested on his collarbone, and the tunic had shifted to show off the gem.
“The carnelian stone,” Oren said to Haedor as he hurried to Azula. “He’s a mourning chief. Of course, he’s a mourning chief. Not a braid in his hair. Oh.”
Oren pulled Azula into his arms, trembling hard as he was overcome with emotion.
“Chieftain!” Oren cried.
Azula met Raithion’s gaze over Oren’s shoulder, utterly paralyzed by shock.
Sennin and Wolfe hurried closer, placing their hands on Oren’s shoulders to steady him as he trembled, holding Azula.
“How?” Azula asked Raithion, holding Oren too.
“There’s more,” Raithion said gently. “Oren, I know this is a surprise, but we came so that you could ask the others to join us. We can meet in the village center. Where you gather under the large baobab tree.”
“Oh, yes,” Oren said, letting go of Azula with a small laugh. He gave Azula no time to ask questions as he rushed back to his house. “Go, Lord Raith. I’ll make sure everyone meets you there. This is the best news we could ever have. Our Chieftain has found us!”
Oren ran into his house, and Azula turned to Raithion.
“Let’s go. I’ll lead you to the baobab tree,” Haedor said, taking Azula’s right arm as he led him out of Oren’s compound.
They mounted their horses again, Azula doing so in a numb daze. They followed Haedor through a maze of dirt paths until they came upon a round clearing with a massive baobab tree at the center of the village.
Azula dismounted without being told. He handed the reins of his horse to Sennin and approached the large tree. His breath hitched. The colossal trunk was wrapped tightly in rings of red twine, anchoring dozens of small wooden prayer blocks.
Azula stepped closer, his fingers trembling as he turned one over. Let us return to Sura, the carving read. He reached for another, his eyes burning as he traced the deeply etched words: Keep my children safe until we see the island again. Hope bloomed with every block he read until he was shaking with it. These were from his people.
Raithion had somehow managed to hide the living, breathing survivors of the Sura Clan.
The realization hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs.
Azula trembled, his mind fracturing between impossible grief and explosive hope. He turned toward Raithion, who stood a few feet away, watching him. He wanted to ask questions, but his voice felt trapped in his throat.
Then, a chorus of excited shouts shattered the quiet. From the edges of the dirt paths, a crowd of Sura Clan members poured into the clearing, their eyes locked onto Azula in wild, tearful recognition.
*****
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