"Are you awake?"

"Ngh?" Alarion groaned. A light was in his face, and he rolled onto his left side to escape it as he murmured an answer. "I am awake."

"Alarion…"

"I said I am-" the boy protested before his mind caught up to his mouth. He blinked a few times, squinting against the light as he looked back over his shoulder. "Sierra?"

"There he is," she replied wryly, "I was worried I would have to shake half the manor down to rouse you."

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked, gathering the covers over his chest by the light of her lantern. "…in the middle of the night?"

"You are leaving in the morning, yes?"

"Mm."

"I have been assigned duties for the morning. Those that do not involve seeing you off. It was the middle of the night, or not at all." Despite her upbeat tone, Alarion had spent enough time with Sierra to recognize the stress in her shoulders, the worry in her eyes. "I am not happy with all of the things that I said."

"But you are happy with some of them?"

She gave him a look, then just as quickly looked away with a slight blush. "I am offering amends. Try to be a bit humble, hmm? I am only asking for an hour, maybe less."

"Sierra…" he started, ready to refuse. Then he saw her smile falter, and his will collapsed along with it. As much as he desperately needed sleep, this was important. "Give me a few minutes?"

"I will meet you in the courtyard."

Alarion lay in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as she departed. He knew better than to let the sweet embrace of his pillows claim him despite his aching body and general weariness. It would be much less gentle if she had to ask him a second time. Somehow, though, the thought that she wouldn't ask again felt even worse.

With a reluctant groan, Alarion fell out of bed. With some effort, he dressed in fresh clothes, slid into his sandals, and took a moment in front of the mirror for vanity. His reflection felt strange these days. He'd become broader in the shoulders, the muscles in his arms now well defined. He was clean and smooth-shaven, almost handsome. Gone was the wiry child who had arrived at the Trinity Isles. The only thing Alarion had in common with that boy was his stunted height.

He didn't look like an Ashadi orphan; he looked like a Vitrian noble. Mothers above, he even talked like one. Idly, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother and of Atra. If he found them, would they even recognize him?

It made him sad to think they wouldn't.

The manor halls were empty save for the routine patrols of the household guard, men and women who appeared more perplexed than concerned that he was up and about at such a late hour. Only the gate guards gave him or Sierra any trouble.

"No one out. The governor's orders."

"Excuse me?" Sierra asked. Her tone was polite, as if asking for clarification, but her posture was not. She was stiff and angry. "We are going for a walk."

"The governor does not want-"

"The governor does not want to be woken in the middle of the night to explain your mistake," she shot back. "The order is in place to keep the staff from wandering. I am his equerry and the daughter of a second seat. Do you wish to push this issue?"

"Miss, I-"

"Shall I wake him?!"

"Fine. Fine," the man relented as the soldier beside him chuckled at his dismay. "Just… I did not let you leave. If anyone asks."

"No one will. The whole of the Trinity will be off lockdown in the morning once this one is gone," Sierra answered as she grabbed Alarion's arm and pulled him into a march.

"Where are we going?" Alarion asked as they cleared the gate, a bit befuddled by the entire exchange.

"There is a small outcrop on the island's far side," Sierra explained as they walked, her pace slowing as they fell out of sight of the guards. "It is private and far enough from the sleeping quarters that I do not wake anyone when I play."

"Is that what we are doing?"

"I play every night, or as often as I can. Remember?"

It wasn't an answer, but Alarion understood. He was just as bad at expressing himself.

They walked by moonlight along the foot of the curtain wall. Sierra led the way, following a familiar trail, warning him of every uneven stone or animal burrow. Tired as he was, even the quick journey felt tedious, but it wasn't long before their destination was in sight.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The rocky outcrop was a hundred feet offshore, with a small path of upraised stones that mostly connected it to the shore at low tide. The rocks were slippery, and the sea water freezing as they made the crossing to the moss-covered island. Curiously, there was a large satchel resting against one rock—some of Sierra's things, no doubt.

"Kotone. My players, if you please?"

"Yes, Miss! Yes, Miss!" the little Thoughtborn answered cheerfully as it started to pop in and out of existence, each time returning with a familiar chair or instrument.

"I love the moon when it is like this," Sierra said, gesturing out over the ocean where a reflection of it stared back into the sky. "I used to make promises to the moon when I was little. A way to keep me honest and focused. Just little things, you understand. Never a promise I risked breaking."

The words struck a chord with Alarion as he settled across from her with a grunt of exhaustion. "One of my sisters used to do the same. She broke a promise once, and my mother was furious when she found out." The memory brought a wan smile to his lips. "I never did learn what she had done."

"Maybe the problem was that she broke the promise at all?" Sierra suggested. "It is not as though Vitrians have a monopoly on valuing honesty."

Alarion nodded along with the words, then caught Sierra's eye as she glanced about. She was on edge. Nervous. It wasn't like her at all.

"Why are we here?" he asked as his pulse quickened in his ears. It wasn't the first time they'd been alone together, but it felt more intimate.

Sierra frowned at the direct question and looked away. She bit her lower lip, chewing on it and his query before she answered with one of her own. "Do you remember our last conversation? Our last real conversation. Not the ones in the dungeon or during your training."

"Obligation and ambition, right?" Alarion asked.

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"Last time I asked, you did not have an answer. I wanted to know if you found it? My time in the dungeon was… enlightening. It clarified some things. I was hoping you might feel the same. That, perhaps, you have an answer?"

He had. Though the weeks between had been chaotic, her question had always been at the back of his mind. The words had needled him during quiet moments, and had weighed heavily in his decision to disobey, to stay within the dungeon and see things through to the end.

In the end, he'd found an answer of sorts.

"I want to be better."

"Alarion, strength is a means not-"

"No. I know," he stopped her. "I do not mean stronger, but better. Complete."

The young man paced a few steps, looking down at the water as he tried to coalesce the idea within his mind. Expressing the concept in words was difficult when it was barely more than a feeling, an urge.

"I am not sure if I am the issue or the problem is the world itself. Nothing has ever felt right, not for as long as I can remember. Even when I was little, I never felt content. I have never felt at peace the way you seem to when you play. I am going to find that. I am going to be better than I am now."

His thoughts drifted to his mother and father. To the good times. To hard work on the farm and quiet nights by the fire. His mother had been better than he was. She'd been happy in a way that he hadn't understood then, and still struggled to understand now. She'd found her ambition, her peace. Then the world had taken it from her.

Whatever it was to be better, Alarion would find it. And he'd find it with enough strength to ensure no one could ever take it from him.

"I do not know how to describe it, or how to get there," Alarion explained. "But I know what it looks like."

"Hmm." Sierra seemed unconvinced, but she smiled nonetheless. "It sounds like you have the ambition to find an ambition. How very… you."

They sat together listening to the waves wash up against the island as Sierra's familiar completed her setup. Over two dozen instruments, most unfamiliar, dotted the island. There were the cellos, of course, but also smaller stringed variants, drums, and wind instruments. Each was set carefully on a seat, awaiting an invisible player.

"Kotone, if you could-" Sierra's familiar popped into existence one last time to hand over her cello and a freshly rosined bow. "Thank you, dear."

With the pieces in place, Sierra began to play, and the small stone island came alive. It began with a gentle back-and-forth, a few sweet notes played one after another. Then another came in heavier than the first. The strings sang, and the wind danced about his ears as the pace intensified.

It was a mournful song, like so much of Sierra's music. It made him think of Elena and her injury, and of Sierra and her dreams. He sat amidst the tension between artist and soldier, between woman and Vitrian. Her eyelids flickered as she played, her fingers tracing invisible strings of magic to her orchestra. She looked peaceful, all that embarrassment and tension drained from her body in the love of her craft.

He needed to find that for himself. To find it and hold on.

The orchestra wound down, soft notes fading into one another until only Sierra's strings remained. She struck a few notes, each long and sorrowful. And when she struck the last one, something odd happened.

A bell rang out from the darkness of the open ocean.

"I really do like you," Sierra whispered. Her voice was shaking. So were her hands. "You are stupid and stubborn, but also kind, introspective, and surprisingly thoughtful. You act out of instinct, but never out of malice. You are decisive, strong, and gentle. There are not a lot of men like you."

"Sierra… what is going on?"

"If you were… if things were different. I think I could fall for you. Maybe I already did. Maybe that is why I am shaking like a leaf." The girl laughed, a giddy noise almost on the verge of mania. "They still can be better, just like you wanted. Just… try not to be you. Just for a few minutes, okay? Please. Trust me."

"Sier-"

"Do you trust me?" she interrupted, "that I only want the best for you?"

"I… I am not sure. Yes?"

"Then you need to stay here. Until it is over."

An explosion lit up the night sky as the far side of the curtain wall detonated. Overhead, a dome of magic glowed white in the midnight air, inscriptions pulsing with mana, then shattering as a second detonation followed. Then a third. Massive chunks of masonry, thrown free by the blast, rained down into the sea alongside them.

Sierra saw the look in his eyes and shook her head. "No. Please. Do-"

Bssht

Alarion vanished, but to his surprise, he did not go far. He should have arrived in his chambers, close enough to reach Elena or ZEKE. Close enough to make a difference.

Instead, he only flickered a handful of feet. Instead of holding the weapon on his nightstand, he gripped the hilt at the bottom of Sierra's bag.

"Alarion!" she shouted as he ripped his hand free and started for the shoreline. When he said nothing, she swore and dragged her bow across her cello. The note was so high it stung, but it was the violent eruption of invisible force across his path that gave him pause.

"They will kill you if you go back," she warned as she struck two discordant notes. The air wavered in front of her as two of her spectral minions took up a place between her and Alarion.

"And my father has ordered me to kill you if you try."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.