The sun peeked from behind the clouds, spilling fragmented rays across the upper terrace. A breeze pushed her hair against her face as she set her quill down.

  “Finally,” Taya murmured, flexing her fingers.

  Damian looked across the table, trying to decipher what she had been writing on the paper.

  “It appears you’re making good progress.” Damian nodded. “You’ll be able to speak Daelora’s formal tongue in no time.”

  “Why did you ask me to learn Daelonese?” Taya asked. “I thought our relationship with the west died with King Thios?”

  “That it did,” Damian said without looking up, scanning over his own documents. “But like I said when I asked you to learn Barlosi—it's always good to be prepared.”

  She shrugged, accepting that truth as enough. “It’ll take time to become fluent in Daelonese. Unlike Barlosi, there’s no one here who can practice with me.”

  “Fluency isn’t the point,” Damian said. “Daelonese is for nobles and royalty. The majority of Daelora speaks Daelo, and that is close enough to Steerian for you to get by.”

  His eyes lifted to her, though his head remained bowed over the pages.

  “Languages are handy tools. You never need a hammer until you do,” he said. “If I had the luxury, I’d even have you learn the heretics’ tongue.”

  “I wasn’t aware they still spoke it,” Taya said, after a pause.

  “They do. Just not for us.”

  “I’d like to meet one of them one day,” she murmured, lost in her thoughts. “Imagine what they remember of the world that we don’t.”

  Damian’s lips formed a faint smile. “You know, outcasts rarely choose the title.”

  Taya looked him in the eyes, and returned his grin. “That doesn’t change my mind.”

  Damian blinked. Then laughed.

  “When others are present,” Damian said, “you'll want to mind your tone.”

  She rolled her eyes, her smile growing in size. “I know, Damian.”

  “You’ve always been strong willed. Ever since I’ve met you—,” he said, taking a long pause before continuing.

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  “You remind me of someone.”

  Taya waited for more, but he didn’t give any.

  “Who—”

  “Another time.” Damian stood, signalling a servant over.

  The servant raced over, lowered her head, and said, “Yes, my lord.”

  “Summon Randal,” Damian said. “It’s about time for our appointment.”

  He appeared taller to Taya when he spoke to others. Never sure if it was his proud posture or his formal demeanor, but it always surprised her how different the Damian she knew was.

  “Yes, my lord,” the servant said before scurrying off into his office.

  Taya looked up at him. “Randal?”

  Damian nodded. “We meet once a week. Since he began training.”

  “For what?” she asked. “He never told me.”

  “I’d imagine he wouldn’t.” Damian leaned closer to her. “We play tactics games and drink wine. I teach him what I can while he sulks about being there.”

  “But he comes?” Taya said, surprised.

  “He does,” Damian said. “On time.”

  Taya noticed the terrace door, the light shifting farther than she expected.

  “I ought to be going anyway,” Taya said, gathering her things and standing. “My friend missed our plans for two weeks now, so I’m going to go check on her.”

  “When you see her, give her my regards,” Damian said, bowing with warmth. “Stay safe.”

  “I will,” Taya said, waving goodbye.

  She left the inner keep of the castle, and entered the middle ward. Guards stepped around her, servants scurried out of her way, and quartermasters stood oblivious, lost in their inventory.

  Taya kept a steady, practiced pace. Speeding up when a clerk was rushing through, slowing down when kitchen staff pushed barrels into her path.

  She nodded at the guard keeping logs, and entered into the outer ward, where the city touched the castle. Taya disliked how loud the outer ward was, but liked how it felt like both her worlds collided.

  A noble’s quiet brushing up against the noise of the common life.

  She navigated through the tight crowds toward the gate into the city, catching the feeling someone was behind her.

  “I thought I lost you this time,” she said, still walking forward.

  “I thought you did, too,” Jarard replied.

  “As I keep telling you, you don’t need to accompany me,” Taya said. “You’re not my personal guard.”

  “I know,” he said, trailing close behind her. “But since the riot, Lord Damian has ordered me to guard you.”

  “I met Serene at the temple.” She turned, her lips pressed thin. “I came back just fine on my own.”

  “Yes. But I hardly returned safe from Lord Damian’s wrath when he learned I let you walk unaccompanied.” Jarard met her glare, then smirked.

  “If you hate my presence that much, take it up with Lord Damian.” He stepped by her, taking the lead.

  “You know that isn’t the problem, Jarard,” Taya sighed, now following in his steps. “People will think I'm nobility if I have a guard following me like a shadow.”

  She glanced at him, the irritation already fading.

  “Just ask them to not address you as a ‘Lady’. They’ll get the message soon enough,” he chuckled.

  Taya rolled her eyes, hiding her laugh behind her hand, as they passed through the castle gates and into the capital, Thios Reach.