ELYSTIA

Sidra is relieved when I numbly pack the few things I have remaining in her tent. I don't dare return to Zairo's presence to retrieve my things. I don't know if I would have it in me to walk away from him again.

Fat, burning tears streak down my cheeks. I clench my teeth to keep from crying, but my hands won't stop trembling and my vision blurs. I'm heartbroken although I haven't taken a single step out of camp yet.

As toxic as it is, part of me was praying that Zairo would come after me. But it's for the best that he stays away. I have made my decision to move on and it will only hurt more if I keep looking back.

I don't know what the road has in store for Sidra and I. Hunting is still prohibited in much of the area, so I don't know what we will eat. We're also unfamiliar with the land and have no connections outside of the camp.

We will survive one way or another–there's no other choice. She's like a sister to me, too young to venture on her own. I won't rest until I secure shelter for us.

This is the right thing to do. Staying behind to warm the furs of an enemy bloodline would be selfish of me.

I shove clothes, sandals, and arrows into my sack. I grip my bow tightly, finding comfort in the smooth, sturdy bark. It's the same bow I used to give Zairo archery lessons. The bow he pretended to not know how to operate to get our bodies close as I adjusted his hands and feet.

He was the first man to touch that bow. The first man to touch my body. Now, everytime I use this bow, I will remember him. And every time I touch my body to pleasure myself, I will remember him. He has taken over all that is sacred to me.

"You don't have to go, you know?" Sidra asks as she ducks into the tent.

I wipe my tears and curse myself for crying. I'm sure the entire camp has heard my choked sobs. Some entertainers are likely celebrating that their Captain is once again free. How long will it take for Zairo to pull another female into his furs?

"It is done," I tell Sidra curtly.

I'm hurt. Angry. But I have no one to blame because I made my own decisions. I've never been very religious, but I believe in the Gods. After today, I can't look at them the same. How cruel to entangle my journey with the one man who I can't be with?

"I think we should get going. I don't want to risk him coming after us," Sidra says.

I shake my head and whisper, "He won't."

Zairo let me go. And he's the type of man that sticks to his decisions. I'm trying to honor the same conviction.

"I'm done packing. Let's go before it gets darker."

Let's go before I lose my nerve and I run back to him.

"Okay," Sidra whispers. "Are you sure you want to come with me?"

Goddamn it. I love her and feel disdain for her all at once. I'm chasing her to protect her from all the evil that's outside this camp. But a part of me wishes she was more forgiving. That she wasn't so disgusted by Zairo's bloodline that she could still work in the same camp as him.

With time, I'll forgive Zairo. But forgiveness doesn't matter much if I want to protect Sidra.

"We are family, Sidra. I'll follow you anywhere." I sling my sack over my shoulder. "Now, get your bag. The time has come."

We walk out of the empty tent silently. Entertainers and Masters alike stare and whisper as we approach the gate. Some of Sidra's friends ask what's happening, but she doesn't have the heart to tell them the truth.

"I'll be back some day," she tells them with a thin smile.

No one asks for me. The closest friends I had in this camp were Zairo and Sidra. Zairo is nowhere to be seen, and that's probably for the best.

But I would give anything to see him smile one last time.

🌊

Heavy rainfall soaks us soon after leaving the camp like an omen of what's ahead.

By the time Sidra and I walk into town, it's night time and we still have no place to rest. Lanterns light the dirt path, but provide no warmth. Townspeople cling tightly to their umbrellas and stare at us.

My clothes are soaked and snug around my body. My hair sticks to my face, and my damp skin itches. But I appreciate the rain because it masked the few tears that streaked down my cheeks. I don't want Sidra to see me cry anymore.

I look around the marketplace and remember Kinno's tour. One side uses silver as currency, and the other uses services. Knowing that I don't have many coins to my name, I hold my breath and approach the stands.

Sidra follows my lead as I inquire about work. The first two stands offer food and lodging in exchange for prostitution and chemical cooking. I keep going, desperate for a reasonable job. I have no interest in selling my body or manufacturing drugs, and I can't possibly ask Sidra to engage in those jobs, either.

The next stand offers shelter to morticians. I almost took the job, but I figured the deceased deserve respect and I would be too squirmy around dead bodies.

My heart is at my throat when we reach the last stand. If I can't find a job, then we will spend the night on the streets.

"How steady are your hands?" Asks the bald man with bright blue tattoos of birds covering his forehead. "I need a carpenter."

I smile and show him my bow. "I chipped the wood myself. I've also made thousands of arrows."

He points at Sidra. "And her?"

Sidra perks up. "I can cook, clean, and I'm good with young ones."

He shakes his head. "I have no need for a wife."

Sidra looks surprised, but I understand she wasn't offering marriage to the man. Cooking and cleaning was how she contributed to the camp.

"Look, I can only offer shelter to those working for me. I can't welcome freeloaders."

"I'll–I'll work double. I'll pick up her slack, I promise. She's young and needs a little time to straighten her skills."

He crosses his arms and stares at us. No doubt pitying the sight. We look like two drenched orphans.

"Alright. Follow me before you get sick and are of no use to me."

A weight is lifted off my shoulders. Sidra slips her hand into mine and I squeeze it tightly.

We're going to be alright.

I shift my sack from one shoulder to another, bending my knees slightly and stretching to alert my exhausted legs. I hear a loud clink and frown. There shouldn't be any metal in my bag.

I set the bag between my feet and dig a hand inside. Feeling something small and round, I pull it out.

As soon as I see the blinding gold, I shove the coin back into my sack before someone notices it and makes me a target.

There are dozens of other gold coins in my sack, but they're not mine. I've never owned any gold in my life.

There's only one possible way this gold got in here: Zairo.

He's looking after me even now that we're miles apart.

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