I took a bath and began to dress.
When the protection settled on my shoulders, I understood at once it was too loose. I had to put on several more shirts beneath it, layer after layer, as if hiding my own fragility.
I looked at my hands. The knuckles stood out too sharply beneath the skin. I really should have been taking better care of myself. Otherwise they would stop letting me out, not because of orders or rules, but because I had become too weak.
To my surprise, after our night Blake had grown noticeably more lenient. He listened. He did not interrupt, did not cut me off, did not look down on me. His concerns had not disappeared I felt it, but still, he agreed with me.
And so, very soon, we were to set out toward the western section of the wall.
"Do you need help?" Blake asked calmly, entering my room.
I stood awkwardly in the middle, trying to fasten the armor he had given me. It was made of dense white leather and was meant to fit the body completely, but even after the extra layers and additional clothing it still sat a little loose, as if it didn't fully accept me.
Blake's warm, steady hands easily fastened the clasps along the sides. Then he stepped behind me and began to lace the armor. His movements were precise, practiced.
The armor really did resemble his own—those same outlines, the same pattern spreading in designs along its entire length—but the material was softer, without crystals, created solely for protection.
"You haven't been eating much lately," he said quietly. "I… didn't hurt you last night, did I?"
Something in his voice made my insides tighten unpleasantly. Guilt.
I turned around. His face was no longer cold or severe; he looked remorseful, almost wary, waiting for my answer.
"I just lost control," he added. "You know how to break it."
He took my hand and gently kissed the back of my fingers. The gesture was careful, apologetic.
"Everything was wonderful," I answered honestly.
And it was the truth.
Last night he had been mine—completely, without remainder. With me. For me. His touches, his kisses, his breathing, the broken sounds—all of it belonged only to me.
And if I were to be entirely honest, I wanted it to happen again.
A tremor rose inside me the moment I remembered how greedily he had touched me, how he had whispered my name in the darkness. The memory burned deep, refusing to fade.
He took a belt from the bed—wide, divided into several sections—wrapped it around my waist and began fastening it, dropping to one knee. His movements were unhurried.
"This protection will shield you from any magic," he said. "As for the rest…"
He finished securing it, but did not remove his hands. His palms remained at my waist. Slowly, he drew me closer.
"Not a single step away from me. Promise."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead just below my stomach. His face was hidden, but his tension was palpable even without words.
"Not a step to the left or right. I promise," I replied, running my hand through his neatly arranged hair, gathered in a military style.
His fingers tightened slightly at my waist. Then he straightened and stepped back, restoring the distance.
"We'll go in a small group: Adel, you, and me. Soldiers will meet us at the wall," he said, pulling something from behind his back. "Hold out your hands."
I obeyed. He carefully put gloves on me soft wool inside, dense leather outside.
"It's cold now. And the road is not short."
His concern, so unfamiliar and gentle, touched my heart.
"Roger is heading to the eastern side. Gort to the northern one, the closest. Adel's team is moving to the southern wall, the farthest from us," Blake continued, laying out the plan.
He draped a warm white scarf over my head, then a winter cloak that completely concealed my figure. Only then did I understand why he had been so worried. Roger would not be with us.
We went down to the training yard, and I froze in amazement. Horses stood there one white, one black, large, powerful. Much larger than usual.
"How beautiful…" I couldn't help myself and stepped closer.
They truly were enormous.
"Are they always this big?" my surprise would not subside.
"Blessed," Roger replied calmly, emerging from the shadows. "To carry mages, they need more strength than ordinary horses."
He stroked the black horse's mane, and it nodded its head contentedly. From his sleeve he produced a small carrot and offered it to her.
"You had a carrot in your sleeve?" I asked, laughing openly.
"Yes. Stole it from Ada while she was away," he replied. From his eyes it was clear he was smiling. "Just don't tell her."
He winked, and I smiled back.
The lightness of the moment was broken by Adel.
"We need to hurry. It's unclear what he's planning," she said, mounting the black horse. "And you, Roger, should get going as well."
"When you find out everything, come find me," Blake ordered.
"Understood," Roger nodded. "Try not to fall off the horse," he tossed at me in parting, then disappeared into the shadows.
"Come on," Blake led me to the white horse and, bracing his knee, helped me up.
I clutched the saddle awkwardly, tried to push off, but realized I was slipping and couldn't pull myself up properly.
The main thing was not to collapse onto Blake.
He immediately caught me with his magic and smoothly seated me in the saddle. I gasped in surprise and smiled at my own clumsiness.
"Sorry, it's my first time," I tried to explain.
"It's a good thing I chose a belt for you, not trousers," he rolled his eyes and deftly settled behind my back. "Cover your face."
I obeyed. He, too, disappeared beneath a dark hooded cloak.
I felt his cold, military tone return. He reached for the reins in front of me, pressing fully against me.
Perhaps it was the first order I did not want to argue with.
Not a single step away from him.
I liked feeling him close, even through armor, fabric, and the cold air.
The city turned out to be far larger and more expansive than I could have imagined. The last time, during the festival, I had seen only the area near the inner wall. Now the space unfolded differently.
We moved mostly along wide, nearly deserted streets. The cold drove people away, and that worked in our favor.
After three hours of uninterrupted riding, we stopped at a small establishment resembling a tavern. There were few visitors in such weather, and we remained unnoticed, just as planned.
The moment we stepped inside, warmth washed over my face. An elderly hostess silently, without unnecessary questions, led us to a private room.
Only a few minutes passed before three large trays appeared on the table—soup, meat, rice, and vegetables. The woman set down a jug and three silver mugs, then left, closing the door tightly behind her. Only then did Blake and Adel remove their hoods. Blake carefully removed mine as well.
"We'll eat and continue immediately," he said, untying my cloak and removing it. "Even the protection is hanging on you."
I sat down at the table. Blake and Adel undressed as well and took seats on either side of me.
We began to eat, and suddenly I realized: this was the first time I was sitting at the same table with Blake. Just eating. I paused for a moment and looked at him.
At that moment he was just a man. Not the Supreme Mage, not a commander. Without coldness or severity—just a man focused on his meal. Even in that there was something attractive about him.
He noticed my gaze, then looked at my plate, urging me on without words. I immediately realized I was simply sitting there staring at him instead of eating.
Adel and Blake barely spoke, only about business, briefly and precisely. I don't know whether they were always like that or only in my presence.
After lunch we set off again at once. The food had been hearty, I hadn't eaten like that in a long time, and as soon as the horse started moving, drowsiness rolled over me. I had barely slept the night before.
"Lean on me," Blake said quietly behind me.
He felt it before I could admit it.
"I'm fine," I replied. I needed to be strong. I had insisted on this journey myself.
"You're tired. I can feel it," he continued. "Did the saddle rub?"
"No, really, everything's fine… it's just…"
I didn't finish.
With one hand he drew me closer and carefully rested my head on his shoulder. He said nothing more. We simply continued on.
I didn't object either. I pulled my hood lower and closed my eyes.
The clatter of hooves on stone and earth became the background of my doze. Beside Blake it was warm enough that the cold retreated, not even reminding me of itself.
It felt as though I had closed my eyes for only a few minutes when Blake's quiet voice sounded right by my ear:
"Wake up. We're here."
He spoke in a whisper, so that only I could hear.
The last three hours had flown by unnoticed, even though I never truly fell asleep.
I opened my eyes and straightened. Before us rose a colossal wall. I tried to gauge its height—fifteen meters, perhaps all twenty. It pressed down with its scale, the cold mass of stone.
At a small door at the base of the wall, soldiers were already waiting for us. Five of them. One stood out clearly—taller, his bearing rising above the rest.
We dismounted. The tallest stepped forward at once.
"Garrison Commander Edric," he snapped. "I arrived as soon as you gave the signal. I also selected the strongest swordsmen, as you requested."
He briefly indicated the others.
I couldn't help noting the difference: most likely he was a mage, and the other four were blessed soldiers.
Which meant Blake expected danger of such force that he might not manage alone.
"Where is his position?" Blake asked coldly.
There he was.
The Supreme Mage.
A stone face.
Silver eyes.
Not a trace of the warmth from the road.
"At the top of the wall," Edric replied. "He's observing. We didn't disturb him or summon him, so as not to raise suspicion."
We entered the door set into the wall and began the ascent. Flight after flight—narrow staircases stretched upward. Sometimes between them there were windows looking only toward the inner side of the fortress. And through several of those windows, I saw it.
The White Tower of the Wardens.
Tall. Massive. The very one he had spoken of. I recognized it at once.
By the fifth or sixth flight, my legs began to give way from exhaustion. I lost my step, but did not fall. Streams of wind gently caught me, keeping me upright. Blake was walking ahead. I saw his hands glowing.
A few more flights, and we stepped out into the light.
"To the right, about fifteen meters, the post," Edric reported quietly. "He's there."
Blake gave a short nod.
"Soldiers go first. Say you're here for a shift change. We follow you. As soon as we start talking to him—block his retreat from that side."
The soldiers silently agreed. We moved immediately; dusk was falling.
Blake walked behind Edric. I followed Blake. Adel kept to my back.
When we approached the post, I saw Eiron.
Ordinary. Real. Painfully familiar.
He stood with a partner; both were looking out beyond the wall, talking about something. There was nothing suspicious about him. No tension, no fuss. And yet every detail, every fragment of memory led to one thing.
Eiron was connected to the dark shadow.
He greeted the soldiers just as calmly and was only slightly surprised when he noticed Commander Edric. The first part of the plan worked. The infantrymen casually went around him and took up position on the other side, cutting off any escape.
"I didn't expect you to be on patrol today," Eiron said.
And again—that same voice. That same Eiron.
For a moment it seemed to me that I had been mistaken.
Edric stepped aside.
And then Eiron saw Blake, removing his hood.
"The Supreme Mage?" he said in confusion, but immediately straightened and saluted. His partner did the same.
Both looked genuinely surprised.
"Someone wants to talk to you," Blake said coldly, almost as an order.
He stepped aside.
I stepped out after him, removing my hood.
And behind my back, Adel's figure clearly took shape.
"Bian…" Eiron said, stunned.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon. He turned away and looked into the distance.
"Tell me," he continued calmly, not looking at me, "it really is beautiful here, isn't it? Just like I said."
I looked at the sunset as well. The cold sun was slowly descending beyond the horizon line, painting the sky in faded shades of gold and copper. Below stretched bare trees, dark and motionless; low hills emerged between them. The world grew still, as if holding its breath before night.
Blake stood beside me. I felt tension building within him.
"So it was you all along," I said, shifting my gaze from the nearly vanished sun back to Eiron.
He looked at me.
Calmly. Evenly. Casually.
"Yes."
Not a shadow of emotion. No regret, no anger. Empty certainty.
The winds around me thickened Blake was ready.
Eiron suddenly reached for the swords on his back, but barely took a step before he froze. His body hung in the air, as if nailed in place. The swords tore free from his hands and fell onto the stone with a dull clang, as though they had become heavy shackles.
This was not the gentle restraint he used on me.
This was imprisonment.
Blake smoothly pushed me behind his back. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Adel's hands light up. She pressed the swords to the ground, not letting them move an inch.
I peeked out from behind Blake's shoulder.
A grin spread across Eiron's face. Insolent. Satisfied.
As if we were the ones caught in the trap, not him.
Cold ran through me.
"Disarm him," Blake ordered the soldiers, not easing his control.
"Long time no see, Blake," Eiron's voice sounded.
But it was no longer his voice.
It grated on the ear. Drew out, sticky and caustic—alien.
"Who are you?" Blake asked coldly, increasing the pressure. The winds tightened around the captive's arms and legs. He stepped forward, blocking my path with one arm.
"Azal," the thing hissed.
The name slipped from its lips like a serpent's breath.
"You…" Blake's voice dropped lower. His hands flared with power.
"Yes," the reply came with mockery. "Your favorite."
He or she smirked.
"Black Lord. Servant of the Dark King himself."