Köl added more wood to the fireplace. Yes, the storms had passed, and they had hopefully seen the last of the snow, but the chill would remain in the air for months to come as the weather slowly warmed. The chill never went away with how far north they were. Closer to Fredhar than any other village in Adhan, at least that was what the merchants and sailors in Röhęr Jęhil said.

As he worked, he whistled an old tune his mother sang to him when he was a child and let his mind wander. The King's City. Samaha Körhan said it was a thing of beauty, with all kinds of people wearing all kinds of things. The thought didn't excite him half as much as the opportunity the journey presented. Somehow, he would make it into the army and then prove himself worthy enough to be part of the King's Guard. It was just his luck that the kingdom was not at war.

Köl remembered the first time he ever held a weapon in his hands. He was ten back then, almost thirteen years ago. Nothing but a child. He didn't know how to explain, but his father's sword in his hands felt right. Like it belonged there. Not out of some sense of duty to preserve his family line and take up after his father as was expected of him, but because it just did. He trained where he could, with the occasional Fredhan who braved the Great Sea and crossed into Adhan passing through their village, in return Köl offered them the warmest bed in the tiny inn his father ran during trading season. His swordsmanship was more Fredhan than it was Adhani, but as they said: a horse does not pick its rider.

Farhan Gölhęm walked into the room, his left leg dragging behind his right. Köl didn't know how his father had sustained such an injury to his leg. He asked once and received a grunt from his father, a scolding from his mother and a look of disapproval from his siter. He never brought it up again. Farhan was a small man, with skin the colour of bark. His eyebrows were a light golden colour and so was everyone's in the family. As far north as Elsęr was, the most distinguishing feature from the Fredhans, was where they were all pale, Adhani people varied in skin color.

"How much wood do we have left?" Farhan asked, as he sat down on the chair opposite the fireplace.

"I'll go out before bed to gather some more," Köl said.

The glow from the fireplace lit up the room. With calfskin on the wall, a large table that sat at least five people. It was Köl's favorite space in the house. He admitted that they lived a more comfortable life than everyone else. It came with his father being chief, and the people of Elsęr were generous to their chief, but most of it came from generations before amassing wealth. It allowed his family to settle and care for others during the coldest of winters, even though many of the young men his age steered clear of him, except for Hariş.

"When will you have the time between dawn and secretly trying to meet Jivanċ's daughter?"

Köl kept his eyes and mind focused on the task at hand. He kept feeding the fire and attempted to ignore his father's thinly veiled attempt to get under his skin. Everyone in his family pestered him about Nuşrahał one way or another after he officially called for her three months back.

"It's not a secret if everyone knows of it."

His father's cane tapped him on the shoulder, and he hissed in pain. "You calling on her isn't a secret. Meeting her after dark is and is frowned upon. No one says anything because you're my son, and insulting your honor is insulting mine."

He almost rolled his eyes. Not like his father would see it anyway. He still had his back to him. Farhan liked to dole on about the importance of legacy and duty. More than once Köl had found himself arguing with him, unable to see eye to eye. Anything that could be perceived as an insult to his honor and that of the lineage of Gölhęm's before Farhan was frowned upon. Even if it was love. Köl couldn't meet Nuşrahał in the middle of the day without someone –even if that was her six-year-old brother –being there, let alone in the middle of the night. He did anyway, because none of the honorable options offered privacy.

"It's not as if I'm planning on making a grandfather out of you, Ahan," he said under his breath.

"I pray to the Essence of Life that you do. That way you'll marry her sooner rather than later and stop all this fooling around. You put a stain on your reputation and mine."

This time he did roll his eyes. "Surely, my reputation isn't suffering. I'm not calling on all eligible women in the vicinity at the same time. Only one."

The cane came down on his shoulder again. Hard enough to leave a scar this time. Köl hissed and rubbed the sore spot with his left hand. He would have cursed if he thought that that wouldn't earn him another strike.

"You think you're funny, boy?"

Köl shook his head. "No, Ahan."

"Good, now go out back and see if your mother's done with the supper."

He pushed himself off the ground and dusted himself. He probably smelled of smoke, but he wasn't going to linger around. If his father was in a foul mood, Köl didn't want to be around the experience the rest of it. He would go sit with his mother, maybe get a hot cloth to put on his shoulder. And then he would go and think about leaving.

The soft glow of the moon spilled through the slates of the stable walls, bathing the rows of hay and wooden beams in muted light. Nuşrahał stood by the farthest stall, her fingers trailing along the rough wooden slats. Her nerves wouldn't let her rest all day. And now her dinner stirred in the pits of her gut. She took in a deep breath hoping to calm herself. At least the pacing had stopped. Standing with her thoughts was better than pacing along the stalls and fidgeting with the hem of her cloak, though she still glanced at the stable doors every few seconds, listening for approaching footsteps.

She turned when Köl slipped in through the stable doors, his face alight with a dimpled grin. One of those that could melt away an argument before it even began. One of those that made her heart race, and her palms sweat. But this time her heart ached at the sight of him –carefree, with plans for a future that felt so distant. A future they had talked about on the same hay bales that surrounded her. He strode to her with a skip in his step, brushing away at any hay sticking to his tunic as he went.

"I can't stay long today. I'm sorry," he said.

Nuşrahał smiled at him. She could feel her smile falter and wanted to curse the Essences for it. "That's alright. We don't have to stay long."

As he reached her, he leaned in closer, his grin softening. He closed the gap between them and pulled her into an embrace before she could say anything else. She relaxed in his arms and her heartbeat slowed down a bit.

"Are you alright? You're smiling different. Like you're worried about something." His voice was muffled against her hair. He pulled away from her. "Yęsęlrin, you look like you're waiting for bad news."

She instantly missed his warmth, but she managed a shaky smile anyway, trying to bury her nervousness under the weight of his excitement. Nuşrahał knew he was happy about something. His smile was brighter, and he wore his light blue tunic. He saved that one for special occasions. He was excited and she was about to walk all over his joy. "I'm fine."

He looked down at her, his curly golden hair falling over his eyes. He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. And then he spoke, his voice laden with enthusiasm. "Hariş and I will be going to the King's City. He's convinced that he can find the answers there for Haşara Ihan's illness."

Her heart sank. Gently, she pulled her hands free. "You're leaving? For how long?"

"I don't know. As long as it takes, I suppose. But we'll come back. I'll come back for you. I promise."

She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to make sense of his words. Her mind latched on to the fact that he was leaving and nothing else. Her mind told her he couldn't leave. Not now. Not in her state. "You're leaving me?"

"I could never leave you, Nuşrahał. You mean so much to me, and nothing could ever change that."

"Do you really believe that? That you can just come back, and everything will be the same?"

He closer to her, his voice lowering to something more earnest almost pleading. "It won't be the same. It'll be better. I'll come back, a soldier of the King's Guard, hopefully. Not just the chief's son, waiting to take the responsibility from his father when there's better people for the task. I'll come back and make you my wife. I promise."

Nuşrahał pressed her lips together, her heart breaking under the weight of his words. She wanted to tell him, but the words died in her throat. This was what he wanted. They spent so many nights talking about it between soft touches and yearning kisses. She didn't want to take the joy from his eyes by stealing the dream he had carried for so long. It had been her dream to. To go to the King's City together and have him become part of the King's Guard. After they had married in front of the Essences. They ruined the plan somehow. He was leaving, and it didn't matter that he called for her, her father would never allow her, an unmarried woman, to leave with a man she wasn't married to either.

"I'm so proud of you. For wanting this. You are so kind for accepting to embark on this journey with Hariş."

Köl's grin returned, gentler, his excitement tempered by the moment. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank you. I wake up every day and thank the Essences that you love me." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll come back, and we'll figure everything out. Together. I promise."

She wrapped her hands around him and buried her head into his chest. Her chest ached with the weight of everything she left unsaid, but in his arms, she felt safe.

"Will you tell me what had you worried when I walked in, Nuşra?"

She shook her head. "It's not that important," she murmured against his chest.

"Are you sure? You were quite pale. You can tell me anything. You know that."

"It's really nothing, Köl. You don't have to worry about me."

He pulled away from her again and smiled down. "If you say so, my love. When you're ready to speak about it, come find me. I'll see you in the morning. If I linger any longer, father will feel like my shoulder needs his cane."

Nuşrahał nodded, unable to speak. She watched as he stepped towards the stable door. Her fingers brushed against her stomach as the silence of the stables settled back around her. The words she couldn't bring herself to say hung heavy in the air. The door creaked shut and the last rays of light from the moon faded, leaving the stables cloaked in shadows. A single tear rolled down her face. Her mind latched on to the same thoughts. He was leaving, but he would come back. He had to. But one possibility troubled her: what if he didn't?