“Willow!” two girls called, skirts lifted to run, all knees and laughter. They collided into Kairi’s arms with practiced joy.
“This is Mena and Raelin,” Kairi said, amused. Mena’s smile was tidy; Raelin’s was a sunrise.
Raelin took one look at Kylar in his half-gear and went wide-eyed. She leaned to whisper, Mena tugged her sleeve in warning, and Kairi’s mouth twitched.
“This is Tessa and Kylar,” Kairi went on, rescuing everyone with introductions. “They’re helping with the move to the capital.”
Mena pursed like a magistrate. “They look like guards.”
Tessa flashed teeth and signed; Kylar translated smoothly. “We are. We’re on the escort when Rush takes a post at the capital armory.” The cover story left his mouth as if it had always lived there.
Raelin beamed straight at him. Taking her time looking him over. “Are you taken?”
Kylar tilted his head, polite as a closed door. “Flattered,” he said. “But the distance between here and the capital is a little… far.”
“I could ask my parents to let me live with Willow,” Raelin said, sweet as a trap. “Sir Kylar.”
Kairi sighed. She slid her arm through Kylar’s and Tessa’s at once and started walking. “I’m trying to show them the town so they can do their jobs,” she said over her shoulder. “Join us or gawk from a distance.”
They joined with little argument as they asked Kylar more questions about himself.
Talk turned to the festival. “Ours is next week,” Mena said. “We do it early so folk who want the big city lights can travel for the capital’s.”
“Name-day draws everyone,” Raelin added. “Dances. Music. Fireworks at the capital.”
“I’m good without fireworks,” Kairi said lightly.
Kylar filed the softness under the joke away with her storm-shy tells. Another question for later, asked gently.
Tessa signed a question with brisk consumer intent.
Kylar translated and added, “I should find something myself.”
Raelin looped an audacious arm through his again. “Will you go with me to the festival?”
Tessa stepped in with the smoothness of a seasoned guard, unhooked Raelin’s arm, and dusted Kylar’s sleeve like she’d found imaginary lint. She pointed at Kairi and signed with polite finality.
Kylar translated, even-toned. “I’m assigned to her. I’ll be with her.”
Raelin’s mouth made a thoughtful little oh that was not defeat, merely postponement. Mena, who had better instincts, changed the subject to pastries. Kairi steered them toward the baker, laughter back in her voice; Tessa rasped an amused breath like a woman who’d just rearranged chess pieces two moves ahead.
Kylar let the sun and chatter settle around him, the earlier jolt fading to a hum. Somewhere behind them, Rush’s unreadable look lingered, and the question he’d sent through Kylar’s skull sat like a pebble in a shoe.
Does she bite you in the dreamworld as well?
He did not think about that.
He thought about jam. And about how, for once, walking a town with her did not have to be borrowed from sleep. But then he noticed, he knew where he was. She recreated this part of Brindlecross in the dreams before. A slow smile crossed his face. He risked a glance to her and found her eyeing him. When she had his attention she smiled and looked away. The knowledge she purposely shared her world with him before he was ever here warmed his heart.
The bell above the dressmaker’s door chimed like a tiny spoon on glass. Bolts of fabric made soft walls—oyster linen, river-blue cotton, a single length of plum wool that would’ve been extravagant anywhere but here. The shop smelled of starch, soap, and the faint sugar of pastilles someone kept in a jar by the till.
“Afternoon, Willow,” the dressmaker called, eyes already measuring Tessa from crown to heel. “And friends.”
Kairi smiled, palms open. “We’re keeping it sensible. Travel and a festival. Nothing I can’t help mend.”
The dressmaker’s brows approved. “Then we’ll not fight.” She whisked away to fetch pins and chalk.
Tessa drifted like a crow to bright things, fingers lingering on an indigo hem. Kairi steered gently, showing her what Brindlecross girls wore when they meant to be pretty without tripping: square necklines, soft sleeves gathered with ribbon, skirts that swung enough for a turn but wouldn’t catch on a cartwheel spoke. Tessa signed small, precise questions. Kairi matched them with the same care, answering aloud for the room—“That one is easier to launder,” “You’ll want lining if it’s breezy,” “No lace; it snags on everything.”
Kylar took the waiting chair by the front window, mask tugged down, posture at-ease in a way that said not at-ease at all. He could see them both in the smeared oval mirror—Kairi’s braid tucked up out of the way, Tessa’s grin when a ribbon actually pleased her. He filed details, the way he always did: Kairi choosing seams that wouldn’t rub, checking where a bodice allowed breath; the way Tessa’s eyes went distant when she imagined a spin.
“Sir Guard,” Raelin announced, arriving with Mena like a pair of bells on a string. They took the two chairs across from him with the solemnity of court. “Tell us about the capital.”
“The capital,” Kylar said, warm and practiced, “has too many stairs and very good bread.” He smiled, just the edges. “If you like window seats, you’ll run out of favorites.”
“Stairs are romantic,” Raelin declared, as if it were law.
“Only on the way down,” Mena countered. She tipped her head. “Do you see princes there?”
“Occasionally,” he said, letting distance do its neat work. “From the back of a crowd, usually. Crowds have good shoulders to hide behind.”
Mena giggled. Raelin didn’t buy it. “And you? Do you stand behind shoulders?”
“When it’s wise,” he said. “Otherwise I stand where the work is.”
That earned a thoughtful purse of Mena’s mouth and a satisfied nod from Raelin, as if he’d passed an exam she’d invented. He glanced back to the mirror. Kairi held two gowns against Tessa: leaf-green with a ribbon waist, and a storm-gray with a square neck. Tessa signed between them:
“Secrets,” Tessa mouthed, and tapped the gray.
Kylar’s mind wandered the wrong direction—dreamscape-wrong—toward the outfit Kairi wore when the meadow warmed: simple red, bare forearms, the way the skirt gathered when she knelt. He didn’t mean to let the thought stay. Raelin’s elbow found his ribs.
“You drift,” she accused, delighted. “Willow is pretty cute, isn’t she.”
He blinked back to the shop. “Willow is Willow” he said, not willing to give too much to these ladies.
“Since you’re taking her to the dance,” Mena added, solemn now, “make sure you actually dance, Sir Guard.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression my job was to keep her from being trampled.”
“That too,” Raelin said. “But also dancing.” She fluttered her eyes at him. " and maybe just one dance with me?"
Before Kylar could answer, Kairi chose that moment to bring Tessa over, two gowns folded over her arm, pins between her lips like a small arsenal. “Opinions?” she asked the room. “Green for a festival, gray for a city?”
Tessa signed, pleased,
“Good advice,” Kairi said. Her eyes flicked, just once, to the edge of the mask at his throat. Then she looked back to Tessa. “We’ll hem to ankle and add a ribbon you can replace.”
The dressmaker descended with chalk and pins, set Kairi to marking hems, and turned Tessa onto the little block in front of the mirror. “Stand tall, love,” she murmured. “We cut like you mean a dance, not a second choice.”
Raelin leaned in toward Kylar again. “Is it true the capital has fireworks that look like flowers?”
“It does,” he said, and made a note to ask Kairi later if she wanted distance when they started. “They’re loud. Best viewed with a wall at your back.”
“Like a guard,” Mena said, sage.
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“Something like that.”
The fitting turned into small theater: Tessa obedient and wicked by turns, Kairi pinning with healer-gentleness, the dressmaker fretting at an uneven selvedge and then forgiving it. When they were done, Tessa hopped down, twirled once in the gray, and tilted her chin as if to say yes, this was a person who could keep her own counsel and still enjoy a turn under lanterns.
Kairi brought the green to the counter. “We’ll take this one now if you have time to stitch the hem,” she told the dressmaker. “The gray can be ready in two days?”
“By noon,” the woman promised.
“Perfect.” Kairi looked to Tessa. “We’ll fetch ribbon at the market. Your choice.”
Tessa signed
On the way out, Raelin sidled one last time to Kylar’s elbow. “Remember,” she said, wagging a finger, “dance.”
He gave her a real smile this time, easier for having watched Kairi laugh under the dressmaker’s scolding. “Copy that,” he said. “Two dances for Willow. Maybe one for you"
“Three,” Mena said, scandalized he’d aim so low. Raelin overjoyed. " I'll take a maybe"
Kairi held the door open, bells chiming again. “Come along,” she said, amused at all of them. “We have ribbon to argue about.”
Kylar followed them into the afternoon, the town’s square bright and ordinary. He filed the new details where they belonged, gray for secrets, green for festivals, blue for brave, and kept just enough distance in his answers to satisfy Raelin, and not quite enough to fool himself.
On the walk back, Raelin and Mena peeled off with a chorus of goodbyes and conspiratorial giggles.
“You have very determined friends,” Kylar said, amused.
“If you aren’t careful,” Kairi answered, “you’ll be married before you leave.”
He huffed a laugh. “Are you trying to marry me off, Princess?”
Kairi shrugged, eyes bright. “Maybe.”
Tessa flicked her fingers, bright and ruthless.
Kylar sighed like a martyr and grinned anyway, tugging the half-mask into place. “Yes, terror,” he said, then offered his arm. Kairi took it without thinking, her fingers light at his sleeve, and they followed the lane home, dust soft underfoot.
Tessa moved ahead of them, turning to walk backwards, hands moving fast and wicked in the air.
A helpless bubble of laughter escaped Kairi. “Did you say what I think you said?” She looked up at Kylar, cheeks pinking. “Translate.”
Kylar closed his eyes for a beat. “I should not leave your side,” he recited, “in case the ladies of this town… kidnap me.”
Kairi smothered another laugh behind her hand. “Isn’t that every man’s fantasy?”
A rough, voiceless rasp of amusement scraped out of Tessa’s throat as she composed herself and signed again, fingers sharp with glee.
Kairi’s mouth formed a silent oh. She tilted her head, studying him like he was suddenly a puzzle with an obvious solution.
Kylar groaned. “What?”
“It’s a good idea,” Kairi said, all innocence that fooled no one. “I should.”
“You are not,” he said, “calling my duty to guard you ‘kidnapping me.’”
Tessa’s shoulders shook. She signed in quick, short bursts, barely containing herself.
“Tessa,” Kylar exclaimed, scandalized behind the mask.
Kairi bit the inside of her cheek, failing to hide her grin. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “if you insist on staying at my side, I suppose I should make sure no one else kidnaps you.”
His ears went warm under the edge of the mask. “That,” he muttered, “is not reassuring.”
She only squeezed his arm and kept walking, the three of them trailing laughter and mischief all the way back toward home.
Inside, the house held a quieter heat. Jayce had finished with Rush; he lounged by the hearth, lazily twirling a sealed letter between two fingers, watching the flame’s edge like it might offer advice. Rush, at the stove, lifted the lid on the stew, tasted, glanced over.
“You’re not going to give it to her, are you.”
Jayce’s mouth twitched. He held the letter still, then leaned forward and dropped it into the coals. Wax flashed; paper blackened and curled.
“A prince would be better for her,” he said, simple as a diagnosis. “And Ky seems… taken. It’s different, seeing him interested.”
Rush watched the ash collapse into itself. “You should’ve kept it. Check again when you return with the escort. She may hate him in a week.”
Jayce actually laughed. “If they can’t stand each other after living together, I can always write a new one.”
Rush pushed off the wall, weighing what he knew and the cost of saying how he knew it. He let it pass, for now.
The latch lifted; voices filled the hall. Jayce straightened as they came in, Kairi and Tessa first, Kylar a step behind with the mask back in place.
Tessa signed, delighted.
“Damn handsome bastard,” Jayce said, with the long-suffering cheer of a man committing to the bit.
“We saw Mena and Raelin,” Kairi told Rush, untying her hair. “Raelin has decided she’s marrying Kylar.”
Rush huffed without surprise. “Raelin decides to marry any new man she meets. By tomorrow she’ll be engaged to the baker’s apprentice and a traveling lute player.”
Kylar made a helpless little bow of apology to the room for his face.
“Stew in ten,” Rush said, practical again. He tipped his chin toward the table. “Tessa, you set? Kylar, map the yard again before dark if you’re up for it. Kairi, tell me what you promised the dressmaker and whether we need to negotiate you down from silk.”
Kairi shook her head at Rush, amused. “I didn’t promise silk. I took Tessa to the dressmaker to find something sensible. This isn’t the capital—three good dresses is plenty.”
“She’ll have twenty pushed on her once we’re there,” Jayce said, dry.
Kairi brightened. “You may take as many as you like.”
Across the table, Kylar slid into the chair beside Jayce, tugged the mask down to his neck, and let his head tip back, breathing out the day. “You ever go to these small-town festivals?”
Jayce nodded. “Took Kairi last year. Cozy. Nothing too tricky, just keep it light, enjoy the music, and keep an eye out.”
“Copy that,” Kylar said, and let his eyes close for one heartbeat longer than necessary, filing the word cozy where it mattered.
“Jayce.”
“Hm?”
Kylar kept his head tipped back, voice low. “When you get back with the escort and I have been tragically kidnapped… please save me.”
Jayce turned just enough to study his face. “…So you’ll be the damsel in distress?”
“One hundred percent,” Kylar said, finally cracking an eye open to glance at him. “You can be very heroic about it.”
Jayce’s mouth twitched. “You want the full rescue? Sword, speech, dramatic cloak?”
Kylar managed a faint, put-upon sigh. “At minimum, I expect you to ride in, cut my ropes, and say something dashing.”
Jayce huffed a quiet laugh. “And what do I get for all this effort, Princess?”
Kylar let his other eye open, deadpan. “My undying gratitude and the chance to punch whoever kidnapped me.”
“Tempting,” Jayce said. “Say the line again. I want to hear it.”
Kylar groaned, then leaned closer, pitching it so only Jayce could hear. “Save me, Prince Charming.”
Jayce snorted, choking on a laugh and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Saints spare me,” he muttered. “If anyone’s kidnapping you, it’s this town.”
“Exactly,” Kylar said. “That’s why I’m putting in my rescue request early.” He smirked.
Jayce hummed and laughed. "I'll start practicing."
Kairi placed a bowl of sliced bread on the table. "Practicing what?"
“Nothing,” Jayce and Kylar said together.
Tessa took the chair at the end, angled so she could see both door and window. She cocked a brow, hands flashing.
Rush arrived a moment later with the pot, stew thick with root vegetables and bits of meat, smelling of thyme and garlic, setting it down with the practiced care of someone who cooked for people that forgot to eat when distracted.
“Bowls,” he ordered. “Hands. Sit.”
They obeyed. Some habits were older than titles. For a while there was only the sound of spoons scraping and the low murmur of appreciation. The day had been long. Food, here, was its own language.
“Tell me about the walk,” Rush said at last, breaking a piece of bread and not quite looking at Kairi, which was how he asked without hovering. “You showed them the good parts?”
Kairi’s face lit in a way Kylar could feel across the table. “We didn’t have time for everything. But we went through the square. They’re already stringing lanterns between the roofs. It’ll look like a second sky when they’re all lit.” She glanced at Kylar. “And you survived the market.”
“Barely,” he said. “Your baker tried to adopt me.”
“You said you liked the honey twists,” she pointed out.
“He gave me three extra ‘for the road,’” Kylar said. “I was ten steps from being legally his son.”
Tessa signed, deadpan,
Jayce dipped his bread in the stew. “You see the kids with the paper lanterns?”
Kylar nodded. “Little gang of them. Terrorizing the fountain.”
“They’re practicing for the parade,” Kairi said. “They’ll march around the square at dusk. Last year one of them set his own sleeve on fire.”
Rush grunted. “He’s not allowed matches this year.”
Kylar could almost see it, the square full and humming, lantern-light soft on the stone, the band playing off-time but earnest, Kairi in her new dress weaving through people who knew her name. The thought tugged at something in his chest he carefully did not inspect.
“You looked…” He stopped, editing. Happy, he meant. At home. “You know everyone.”
Kairi shrugged, a little shy under it. “They know the healer girl. And the girl who almost lives at the smithy. It’s not that impressive.”
“Impressive enough,” Kylar said. He spooned up more stew to keep from saying more.
“Speaking of impressive,” Rush went on, tone dry, “word’s already out there’s a tall stranger in town with a questionable face.”
Kylar blinked. “Questionable?”
Kairi choked on a laugh. Jayce patted her back, not helpfully.
Rush raised a brow. “Half of you covered, all of you mysterious, walking around with my little sister on your arm. Half the girls at the well were about ready to faint. The others were plotting. The baker's wife came in to gossip a little."
Tessa’s hands moved, bright and merciless.
“She’s not wrong,” Jayce said. “I saw at least three planning your tragic love story while I was walking the horses"
Kylar fought the urge to touch the mask where it lay at his throat. “I am perfectly safe,” he said. “I had a guide.”
Kairi looked at him over her bowl, eyes dancing. “You did. And you still might not be safe.”
He felt heat creep up under his collar and took a long drink of water to cover it. “The lanterns were nice,” he said, which made Tessa snort into her stew.
They ate until bowls were mostly clean and the pot scraped low. The last of the bread vanished under Rush’s hand with a decisive final swipe.
“Right,” Rush said, pushing his chair back. “Tomorrow is going to be busy. We’ll go over routes with the escort again in the morning.” He nodded toward the rear hall. “If you need to wash up, there’s hot water set aside. Use it before it goes cold.”
Jayce stretched his legs out under the table with a quiet groan. “That’s for you,” he told Kylar. “You still smell like travel and bakery.”
Kylar sniffed at his sleeve. “I smell like victory and sugar.”
Tessa signed,
“Traitor,” Kylar said mildly, but he was already reaching for the chance Rush had offered. The day sat heavy in his bones: the road, the dressmaker’s pins, the walk through streets that weren’t his but had started to twine around him anyway. He rose, fingers brushing the edge of the mask where it rested against his throat, then caught Kairi’s eye. “I'll try to not get kidnapped in the bath.”
She tilted her head. "We will guard the door so no wandering ladies find themselves in your bath"
Tessa waggled her brows and mimed cracking knuckles.
Jayce just shook his head. Kylar huffed a laugh and gave them a small, mocking bow. “I will forever be in your debt.”
He took the narrow hall toward the back of the house. The boards creaked in familiar patterns under his boots now—he’d mapped them over the last few days the way he mapped any space he meant to keep safe. The washroom was small, whitewashed walls and a basin set on a sturdy stand, steam still curling from the bucket beside it.
He closed the door behind him and, for the first time all day, let the latch click all the way home.
The sounds of the house dulled to a murmur: Rush’s low rumble, Kairi’s lighter reply, the soft punctuation of Tessa’s hands on the table, Jayce’s half-laugh. It wrapped around the edges of the little room like something he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.
Kylar set his hands on the basin’s edge and leaned in, studying his own reflection in the wavering water: travel-tired eyes, hair mussed from the mask’s strap, the line the half-mask would draw once he put it back on.
“Cozy,” he said under his breath, tasting the word again.