They stopped before a small open-front stall draped with faded red cloth. Barrels lined the back, each marked with a painted honeycomb. Meredith stepped forward with a triumphant smile.
"One cup of mead for each of us, please," she told the vendor.
Darius raised a brow. "Are you sure? If we return intoxicated, your parents might not be pleased."
Meredith waved off the concern with a playful scoff. "It's only one cup, Kriger. No one gets drunk from just one."
The vendor filled two wooden cups with a golden, shining liquid. Meredith handed one to Darius. He hesitated only a moment before taking a sip.
His eyes widened.
"It's… sweet," he said, stunned. "Actually sweet."
Meredith giggled. "Of course it is. Mead's made with honey."
Darius took another sip, a longer one, and then looked at the vendor.
"Could I have another cup?"
Meredith burst into laughter. "You? Asking for another? A moment ago you were warning me about staggering home in disgrace!"
Darius huffed, cheeks warming. "I only want one more."
"Mm-hmm," she teased, tapping his shoulder. "So we'll see you rolling on the ground after the second one, then?"
He glared half-heartedly, and she only laughed harder as the vendor poured him a second cup.
Darius lifted the cup to his lips, blowing gently across the surface before taking a slow sip. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You know," he said, turning the cup in his hands, "my cousin used to make a drink much like this—syllabub. She was always experimenting with flavours, claiming she meant to perfect the craft one day."
Meredith looked up, interest brightening her eyes. "Did she make it often?"
"Often enough," Darius replied, his voice warming with memory. "On quiet evenings, she and I would sit by the hearth with our fathers. We'd drink together and trade jokes so dreadful they would make a stone groan." A soft chuckle escaped him, but it faded almost as quickly as it came. "It went on that way for years… until she passed."
Meredith's face softened, her hand resting lightly against her knee. "I am truly sorry, Kriger. Losing someone dear is… never gentle."
He breathed out, a long, steadying exhale. "Thank you. But I am mending, slowly. Grief is a patient creature, it knows how to wait, but it also knows when to loosen its hold."
For a moment there was quiet between them. Then Darius glanced at her with a shy, almost uncertain smile.
"Still… spending this day with you has been good for me. Better than I expected. Truly."
Colour rose to Meredith's cheeks, delicate as dawn across snow. She lowered her gaze for a heartbeat before meeting his eyes again.
"I… I am glad," she said softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I am, too."
A thought struck Darius, sudden enough that he straightened where he sat. He turned to Meredith, brows knitting.
"By the way… those men who followed you to the old man's shop. Who were they?"
Meredith blinked, then let out a small breath, as if she had been expecting the question. "Most of them? Merely friends. Or friends of my parents." She hesitated before adding, "They like to keep an eye on me when I go into the city."
Darius frowned. "All of them? That many?"
"Well…" She rubbed the back of her neck, clearly uncomfortable. "Not without reason. When I was twelve, the old shopkeeper told me, quite plainly, that he wished to marry me and add me to his wives."
Darius froze mid-swallow, staring at her with open disgust. "What? Why in all realms did your parents not thrash him for such filth?"
"I never told them," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I simply stopped going there and found another store to buy from. The woman who owned it was kind, sweet as summer, so I stayed with her for years." Her voice dimmed. "But when she passed on, her shop closed with her. And the old man's place is the only one left with the rare things I need. So… I returned. Older, wiser, and less afraid."
Darius' face softened, though anger still smouldered behind his eyes. "You should not have had to endure that."
Meredith gave a brave smile. "Life throws worse at people every day. Besides… I never go alone. Those men, whatever people may say of their noise and fuss, make certain the old goat keeps his distance."
Darius nodded slowly, his jaw loosening. "It's good you don't go alone then. At least there are people around who can keep him in line."
Meredith laughed lightly, musically, and entirely unbothered now that the moment had passed. "Keep him in line? Darius, did you see his face when you grabbed him earlier? I thought he'd faint on the spot." She nudged him with her elbow. "You're a bit of a warrior yourself. Are you sure you're not secretly training to be one?"
Darius tried not to smile, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "You forget… I already told you. My dream is to join the Anasonian Army."
"Oh, right," Meredith said, snapping her fingers playfully. "That's true. And honestly?" She gave him an assessing look, eyes flicking, just briefly, over his shoulders, arms, and height. "You'd fit right in. You've got the physique for it."
Darius felt heat climb up the back of his neck, but he cleared his throat and looked away before she noticed.
Meredith, of course, noticed anyway… and she grinned.
Darius lifted his cup again, rolling the last sip of mead across his tongue before answering. "Favian and I have been training while we travel. He's been teaching me what he knows. He's… surprisingly good with a bow."
Meredith's eyebrows rose. "Favian? Truly? He doesn't look like the type, but I suppose appearances lie."
"He's fast," Darius added. "And precise. He can hit a tree knot from twenty paces without even squinting."
"Impressive," she murmured. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, "Have you two encountered a Rageler yet?"
Darius blinked. "No."
Meredith paused. "No?" She stared at him like he'd just said he'd never seen rain. "But how? You've travelled across half the region, haven't you?"
The slip struck Darius a moment too late. His pulse lurched, and he scrambled for correction.
"I mean… Ardet has been attacked several times," he said quickly, waving a hand as if the clarification were natural. "Ragelers came, yes, but… not at me directly. I wasn't close enough to fight one. So technically I haven't encountered them."
Meredith frowned for a heartbeat, as though trying to fit his explanation into her expectations. Then she nodded slowly. "Ah. That makes more sense. I thought you meant you'd never seen them at all."
Darius forced an easy breath and matched her pace. "No, no. I've seen plenty. Just… from a distance."
She accepted that, her expression smoothing back into its usual brightness. "Good. Because whether you join the Empire or not, every Anasonian man should at least know what a Rageler looks like."
Darius chuckled faintly, relieved the moment had passed. "Trust me," he said. "I know."
And Meredith smiled, warm and unbothered, swinging her small bundle of thread as they stood up to make their way through the market.
Meredith tucked the thread bundle under her arm as they walked, she glanced at Darius with an easy smile.
"You know," she said lightly, "the man I want to marry has been very helpful to the Empire too."
Darius stopped walking so abruptly that a passerby brushed his shoulder. "The… man you want to marry?" he repeated, voice cracking with disbelief.
Meredith halted a few steps ahead, pivoting back toward him. Her brows lifted, puzzled by his reaction. "Well, yes. I'm getting married, Darius. I told you I was twenty, didn't I? My parents think it's the right time. And he… well, he should be nearby looking for me."
Darius felt his heartbeat slam once, painfully hard. A strange tightness gripped his chest, one of confusion, disappointment, something he couldn't name. The sounds of the market blurred a little at the edges.
"You're… getting married," he echoed weakly.
Meredith nodded, oblivious to the chaos she'd stirred inside him. "Mm-hm. He's usually around this part of the market in the mornings."
She stood on her toes, scanning the crowd. The sun glinted off her hair as she turned her head, searching. Then her eyes brightened.
"Oh! There he is!" She raised her hand high and waved enthusiastically. "Karev! Over here!"
Darius followed her gaze automatically, but when his eyes found the man she was calling to… the world stopped.
The cup slipped from his fingers, hitting the dusty ground with a dull thud and spilling the last of the mead. His mouth fell open, breath freezing in his throat.
The man approaching them was cloaked in black, but not common black—deep, dense, almost shining. Gold embroidery traced the edges in elaborate sigils, curling like living flame. His stride was calm, assured, unmistakably authoritative.
A Valiant.
One of them. One of the Empire's elite. One of the very warriors Darius and Favian were trying to avoid drawing attention from.
And Meredith was waving him over with a smile.
Darius could only stare, every instinct screaming at once, as the Valiant closed the distance with quiet, lethal grace.