That’s when the real chaos breaks out.
Suddenly, fists are flying, and more men join the fray, eager to join the fight. The guards, who had been quietly watching from the corner, spring into action. Mathis grabs a man who is lunging for Rylan by the waist and tackles him to the floor, while Grellor slams another attacker’s head into the bar. Yosef, using the heavy staff he always carries, swings it with precision, keeping two men at bay.
The inn explodes into a full-blown brawl, tables and chairs crashing to the floor as more people get dragged into the fight. I’m caught between ducking out of the way and watching in awe as Rylan and the others handle themselves with ease. Rylan is a blur of fire and fists, moving with terrifying precision. Even though he’s surrounded by enemies, he never falters. At one point, a man is hurled so close to me that I have to duck out of the way, but Rylan’s hand catches my arm, pulling me behind him.
His eyes meet mine for a fleeting second—dark, furious, protective—and then he’s back in the fight, moving with terrifying precision. Every punch he throws, every burstof flame that erupts from his fingertips, is aimed with lethal accuracy. It’s clear he’s in control, even with the chaos surrounding him.
Finally, the inn’s guards burst through the door, pulling apart the brawlers and forcing them outside. The noise dies down, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the scattered remains of broken furniture. The guards drag the last of the rowdy patrons outside, until only Rylan and I are left standing in the middle of the wreckage.
I glance at Rylan, my heart still pounding from the chaos. His chest heaves with the exertion, but his expression is calm, almost bored, as he brushes ash from his sleeve. I whirl on him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What the fucking hell was that?” I demand, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief. “I had it under control!”
Rylan’s expression is impassive, but there’s a dangerous edge to his voice. “I’m sure you did. My way was faster.”
I gesture to the state of the inn around us. “Guess again!”
He shrugs. “It was worth it, to protect you.”
The dismissiveness in his tone makes my blood boil. “Whatever your job actually is, it’s not taking away my right to take care of myself.” Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm up to my room, the door slamming behind me with a resounding thud. The door flies open seconds later, and Rylan stalks into the room, grabbing my wrist and spinning me around to face him.
“Listen and listen very, very closely. I’m here to guard you. And I intend on doing my job. So let me make this clear.” He presses me up against the room wall, his face close to mine, making me drunk on the smell of cloves. “No one is going to come close to getting their hands on you again. And if I hadn’t already killed those bandits, I would have tracked down every single one of them for giving you that bruise, and would have killed them slowly and painfully. And when I was done, Iwouldn’t have had any trouble falling asleep. That’s the kind of person I am, and don’t you ever forget it.”
We glare at each other, chests heaving, before he drops my hands and then storms out as quickly as he had come in.
Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find a maid, who enters and uses her Strength to fill the tub with steaming hot water. I watch in silence, my emotions from the incident downstairs still swirling around in my head. When the tub is full, she points to a stack of new clothes on the bed I hadn’t noticed—at least two shirts, two travelling pants, and a dress, fine fabrics in rich colours, just like the ones I’d seen at the market stall earlier. The sight of them sends a pang through my chest. Brand new clothes. I pick through them, they look like they’d fit me perfectly. I can barely breathe. Who would do this?
The maid glances at me, her expression neutral. “The lord, the, uh, tall, handsome one, the quiet one, says if you’d like anything else, just let me know, and we’ll immediately acquire it for you.”
I stare at the clothes, then at the maid. Residual anger, confusion, and something that feels uncomfortably like gratitude twist together inside me. I move to the door, ready to begrudgingly thank Rylan, but when I open it, only Mathis and Yosef are standing there, deep in conversation.
They turn to me, with a question in their eyes. I swallow my words and turn back into the room. “Um, I won’t be too long, I’ll come get you when I’m done,” I tell Mathis, my voice quieter now.
As I close the door, I can’t shake the image of Rylan’s fire-licked hands and the way he’d set that man ablaze without a second thought. It should terrify me. But instead, I’m left with a nagging question: why would he go to such lengths for me?And more importantly—why does it feel like a part of me is grateful for it?
The warm embrace of the water surrounds me as I sink deeper into the tub, closing my eyes and allowing the day's tensions to melt away. The gentle heat seeps into my muscles, loosening knots I hadn't realised were there, and I feel a familiar surge of energy coursing through me, as if the water itself is breathing life back into my weary body. There's a profound comfort in this ritual, a sense of renewal that calms my restless spirit and brings a quiet smile to my lips. I run my fingers along the surface, watching the ripples cascade outward, each one a reminder of the tranquillity that water has always brought me, healing wounds both seen and unseen.
SIX
Eirabella
The heat is unbearable,searing the very air in my lungs and turning it into something thick and suffocating. Flames roar around me, their hungry tongues devouring everything in their path. The village is a nightmare of burning wood and desperate screams, the acrid scent of smoke choking my lungs as I stumble through the chaos. I can barely see through the thick, swirling smoke, but I know where they are—I can hear them.
“Janus! Kahlia!” I scream, my voice ragged with panic as I catch sight of them on the other side of the burning market stall. They’re trapped, separated from me by a wall of flames that grows higher with every passing second. Their terrified faces are etched into my mind, their desperate cries for help cutting through the deafening crackle of the fire. My heart races, terror pulsing through my veins as I stretch out my hands toward them, willing something, anything, to happen.
But nothing does.
I try again, desperation mounting as I focus every ounce of my strength on them, reaching out with trembling hands.
But no power answers my call—no cool rush of ice, no protective shield, nothing to save them from the inferno closing in around us.
I can’t get to them.
I can’t reach them.
The sound of cackling has my head whipping to the side where a lanky figure in a worn brown coat stands, a horsewhip in his right hand. “After all this time, you should know better, little girl. There’s no magic in you. I made sure of it.”
What is he doing back here? Did he cause this?
“Go away, Samfer!” I shout at him, and return to the blaze threatening to engulf Janus.
