CHAPTER 88: DEVOTION

By the time they returned to the Scarlet Anchor, twilight had melted into a soft indigo night. Lanterns swung from iron hooks, their golden light reflected in the slow-moving river beyond.

Torven was already waiting at the entrance, bowing so fervently it was a wonder he hadn’t toppled into the gravel.

"Your Majesties! Your rooms have been prepared!" he announced breathlessly, wiping his brow. "Dinner will be served in your private dining room whenever you desire. The kitchens have outdone themselves, I assure you. Oh—and word from your escorts: the carriages shall be ready for departure at dawn tomorrow."

Soren nodded with polite gratitude; Eris gave a curt dip of her head.

They entered through the inn’s grand corridor, where flickering candles threw shifting shadows across polished wood. The scent of spiced stew drifted faintly from the kitchens. The hall split at the staircase, left wing and right , each direction leading to the chambers Torven’s trembling hands had indicated.

Separate chambers.

It was practical. Expected. But somehow, when they reached the landing and stopped before their respective doors, the air thickened.

Soren turned toward her, a glimmer of mischief catching the candlelight in his eyes. "You’re sure you prefer separate rooms?" he asked lightly.

Eris blinked, suspicion sharpening instantly. "What are you implying?"

He leaned just enough to be infuriating. "That it might be safer, of course. The inn might have... questionable locks. I’d feel better if you—"

"Soren." Her tone was pure warning.

He smiled, not the disarming kind, but the dangerous one that knew exactly what it was doing. "Unless, of course, you’d rather I join you. For supervision."

Her face went crimson before she could stop it. "You—!" She turned sharply, gripping her door handle so tightly the gold trim pressed into her palm. "You are insufferable. And I am not sharing a room with you, Emperor or not."

The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding thud.

Soren stared at it for a moment, then laughed softly, not the bright, teasing sound from earlier, but something lower, gentler, touched with longing.

He exhaled slowly, the humor bleeding into patience. The kind of patience he’d never been forced to learn before her.

He went to his chamber, shrugging off his cloak as the door clicked shut behind him. The laughter faded into silence, and in that silence, his body felt heavy. Not from travel, but restraint.

He’d been thinking things he shouldn’t, thoughts that carried heat and weight, thoughts that would undo him if he let them linger too long.

Yet for all of it, he was... content. Because for the first time since he’d met her, Eris was walking her own path, not Caelen’s, not the world’s. Hers.

And gods, she was breathtaking for it.

He peeled off his gloves, unfastened the silver clasps of his tunic, and ran a hand through his hair as he crossed to the washstand. Water beaded against his skin, cool relief against the faint ache of the day. Candlelight danced across the mirror, fractured, gold, and he caught himself smiling like a man with too many reasons and none at all.

Outside, the inn’s courtyard was alive with movement, soldiers tending to horses, stable boys hauling feed, the last of the day’s baggage being rearranged for the morning’s departure. The night smelled of leather and hay, river air brushing cool against the heat of the lanterns.

Then, a sudden shout cut through the rhythm. Frantic steps thudding through the stairs alarming everyone.

"Your Majesty! There’s—there’s someone in the luggage wagon!"

Soren looked up sharply. Eris’s door opened almost at the same time as his. They met at the stairwell, a brief glance exchanged, alert, wary.

"An assassin?" she asked, voice low.

"Or a fool," Soren replied, already moving.

They crossed the courtyard quickly, the Winter Knights parting for them. The large supply wagon stood near the stable arch, its back hatch partially unlatched, fabric covers rustling faintly in the wind. Two knights held torches aloft, weapons drawn.

Soren raised a hand, a silent command to stand down. Then he stepped forward himself.

He lifted the canvas flap.

The light fell across a small, trembling figure huddled between trunks and crates of provisions. Dust streaked her cheeks; her dress was torn from the ride. Her hands clutched a bundle of cloth, as though it could protect her from the world.

Eris’s breath caught.

"Mira?"

The girl looked up. Wide brown eyes, wet with tears. Recognition broke her composure entirely. She scrambled out of the wagon, stumbling before falling to her knees on the ground.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty!" she sobbed. "Please—please don’t send me back!"

The knights exchanged uncertain glances. Eris froze where she stood.

"I couldn’t stay," Mira choked out. "Not after you left. They were celebrating, my lady, celebrating that you were gone. I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to serve you still. I just wanted to follow you."

For a long time, Eris said nothing.

No one had ever chosen her. Not freely. Not without fear or promise of reward. Yet here this child knelt, shaking, sincere, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

Something inside Eris, something she’d long believed calcified, began to crack.

Soren broke the silence first, voice edged with quiet amusement. "It seems I’m not the only one that has inspired quite the devotion today," he said, glancing sideways at her. Then to Mira, with the same calm tone he always carried: "How long have you been in there?"

The girl hiccupped. "Since... since before dawn, Your Majesty."

Soren raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been hiding in a luggage wagon for hours?"

Mira nodded miserably, shoulders trembling.

Soren sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though trying not to laugh. "You’ll freeze if you do that in the North," he murmured.

"Please spare my life your majesties." She pleaded.

Eris’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. She stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. "You will not be punished," she said. "But next time, you will ask before following me halfway across Solmire."

Mira’s head snapped up, disbelief lighting her tear-streaked face. "Y-yes, Your Majesty!"

"Go with the knights," Soren added, nodding toward the inn. "Have her fed and given a place to rest."

As they led the girl away, the courtyard grew still again.

Eris stood there, staring at the path Mira had taken, the sound of her footsteps fading into the inn.

Soren turned toward her, voice softer now. "She followed you because she believed in you."

Eris’s throat tightened. "Then she’s a fool."

"Maybe," he said, smiling faintly. "But she’s your fool. And sometimes that’s what changes everything."

She said nothing in return, instead, her mind returned to him. Caelen. The devotion in Mira’s eyes resembled Caelen’s years ago. When he hadn’t learn to fear her.

For a moment she stood in silence, the weight of the memories weighing on her.

But she brushed it off, the past should stay in the past.