Page 126 of Aryn

Cato guides my face back to his. “Aryn, there’s something I have to say.”

“Cato—”

“Just… let me,” he pleads. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, then trails them to my ear and kisses me there. His voice is so gentle as he whispers, “I won.”

A loud, surprised laugh barks out of me as he jogs back toward the wagon. I sprint to catch up, but as I try to pass him, he catches me around the waist and swoops me off the ground. He throws me over his shoulder, but I’m laughing too hard to fight anymore.

Aryn

We leave the mountain pass and the world opens up. The heavy snow choking the high trails thins, and by midday there’s barely more than a light dusting on the ground. It’s still bitterly cold, but the air no longer feels like it’s trying to kill us. Jagged peaks and purple mountains loom in the distance, but the land flattens into rolling hills and wide valleys. Patches of hardy grass push through the snow, and the trees grow in thicker clumps. Underbrush surrounds the trunks in a carpet of vibrant blue ferns, while deep red vines climb to weave between branches.

It almost feels like an entirely new world—one that’s far more alive and welcoming than the one we left behind. Before we even stop for breakfast, signs of life appear in the distance, and we pass the first group of travelers at a fork in the road. Two merchant wagons head south, loaded with wares and surrounded by armed escorts. They give us cautious but respectful nods as we pass, and as if they granted permission for society to exist once more, people appear in greater numbers.

Groups pass on sylvarenback or in wagons pulled by kravache. Homesteads dot the landscape, with fenced gardens and smoke curling from chimneys. As we crest a tall hill, a larger village sits nestled in the valley below. Dozens of slate-covered roofs reflect the morning sunlight, and even from this distance I can see people working the fields that surround it.

Brihn rides up beside Cato and me. “That’s Lhoris,” he says, pointing toward the cluster of buildings. “One of the bigger trading stops in this region.”

“Lhoris?” I repeat. “Surely not.”

“Are you accusing me of fibs, Father?”

I shake my head, still staring at the village. “The last time I saw it, that place was only a run-down inn with a few rickety market stalls. Half the time, both were falling apart.”

“It used to be much smaller when I was a boy,” Brihn agrees. “When people started leaving the southern areas, this was one of the first places travelers passed. They’d stop to rest or refill their supplies, and over time, some stayed. Local farmers set up stalls, and eventually it became a proper trading post. They’ve grown into a thriving community now.”

I’m trying to reconcile the clean, bustling village with the tiny pit stop I once knew. The landscape of the mountains beyond is the same as it ever was, but everything else has changed.

“That’s incredible. Truly.”

“It is. Lhoris is best known for their shoes.”

“Shoes?” I ask with a disbelieving laugh, glancing at Brihn.

He smiles and nods. “A family of cobblers lives there now. They’re some of the best in the lands, truly. The Vaelor purchases her royal guard’s boots from them.”

We continue along and the road grows wider and better maintained. Though we never fully relax, the constant stress of being on lookout fades now that we’re back among society. Farmers and merchants pass with carts, and families travel on foot. Some stare openly at our mixed group—especially at the humans—but most offer polite greetings or wary nods before continuing on their way.

Later in the afternoon, city walls and taller buildings rise against the horizon. Once again, I’m nearly rendered speechless. “Is that… Tanithil?”

“It is,” Brihn agrees. “One of the more prominent cities south of the capital. Not as grand as some, but booming. The blacksmith guild has taken residence there. You can see their forges even from here.”

A faint layer of smoke hovers over the city, and I listen, fascinated, as Brihn tells me about the weapons and armor they craft. Once again, the Vaelor supports the local artisans by supplying her scouts and armies with their steel.

One of Brihn’s guards calls for his attention, and as he rides off, I lean my chin on Cato’s shoulder and take it all in. “When I was young, we would come to Tanithil to find trouble.”

“You?” he demands, glancing back at me. “Trouble? What did you do, sneak into libraries for a good read? Have a rebellious journaling session under the trees?”

I scoff and dig my fingertips into his side until he squirms, his laughter finally breaking free. “I’ll have you know I got into plenty of trouble in my day. When we were old enough to be trusted with the task, a few of my friends and I were sent to the market on occasion. We’d ride up and scrape together a few extra coins for some thraeva. The first night we were always high as the Fates. Wasting money on cakes and ale, then chasing a good time behind closed doors.”

Cato turns to look at me fully, eyes narrowed as they dart down my frame. “You ran to the city to get high and find someone to fuck?”

“Are you jealous of where I stuck my cock almost two hundred years ago?” I tease, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Cato lets out a low, flustered laugh, but I feel the way his body reacts under my arms. “Maybe I am,” he mutters, leaning back into my chest a little more. “It’s kind of a mind fuck, you know. You were out here getting high and chasing a piece of ass before my parents were even born.”

My arms tighten around his waist as I press a kiss to the side of his neck. “That just means I have all the experience I need to handle you, kitten.”

He elbows me in the ribs, though there’s no real force behind it. “You’re the worst.”