Chapter 28: Cenric

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

CENRIC

The wind picks up, tugging at the hem of my surcoat as I head toward the center of the camp, where a supply caravan arrived this morning. Warriors mill about, helping unload crates and barrels. I scan the crowd, my gaze landing on a group of merchants. One of them stands out: an older woman with golden blonde hair.

Time seems to slow as I take in the sight of a face I haven't seen in sixteen summers.

My mother, Rosa.

She looks young, vibrant. Her hair is braided, just as I remember. Her blue eyes sparkle as she laughs at something one of the merchants says.

But it's not her appearance that makes the tension tighten in my chest. It's the two little girls with her. One, no more than three summers old, clings to Rosa's hip, her tiny arms wrapped around Rosa's neck. The other, perhaps five, clutches at Rosa's skirts.

They're beautiful, miniature versions of Rosa, with the same hair and delicate features.

My sisters.

The realization hits me like a kick to the gut.

I want to demand answers for the sixteen summers of silence, but I remain rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away.

Rosa turns, her focus sweeping across the camp. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I see a flicker of something. Recognition? Regret? It's gone in an instant, replaced by a polite, disinterested smile.

She doesn't know me. Or she's pretending not to.

I clench my fists, willing myself to stay calm. To act as though I don't recognize the woman who abandoned us all those summers ago. The woman who left without a word, leaving a gaping hole in our family that we've never been able to fill. But as I watch her bounce the youngest girl on her hip, showering her with the affection she rarely gave Praxis and me, something inside me cracks.

I force my feet to move, turning away from Rosa and her new family. My chest tightens, constricting, as if someone is wrapping a thick rope around it and slowly squeezing.

Praxis can't know. Not yet. The thought of telling him, of watching his face crumble, is unbearable. He's always been more sensitive, more open with his emotions.

This would crush him .

He always believed something bad had happened to her to make her disappear and never come back.

Today proves otherwise. She looks as healthy as ever.

Hades!

I need a distraction.

I turn and make my way to my command tent. At least there, I can immerse myself in planning and strategy.

I stride into the tent, desperate to lose myself in the minutiae of running the camp. Maps and reports litter the oak table. I study them, hoping the familiar routine will drown out the image of Rosa and those two little girls.

"Send for Gabriel and Luc," I say to one of the guards stationed outside.

He nods and hurries off.

While I wait, I pore over the latest intelligence from our scouts. Rebel activity has increased in the eastern quarter of Karra. I trace the routes on the map, marking potential hideouts and gathering spots.

We are still questioning the rebels we took from Karra a few nights ago. Soon, every single one of them will crack.

Gabriel and Luc arrive, and we discuss troop movements, supply lines, and weak points in our defenses.

"We need to increase patrols along the eastern border," I say, jabbing my finger at the map. "Double the guards at night. And I want daily reports on any suspicious activity in the city."

Gabriel raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on my intensity.

Luc, however, frowns. "Is everything all right, Cenric? You seem on edge."

I wave away his concern. "I'm fine. I just don't want us to be complacent."

We spend hours poring over plans and reports. I throw myself into every detail, desperate for distraction. But no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the memory of those little girls clinging to Rosa.

My sisters.

The word feels foreign, wrong. I have Praxis, and I have a father. That's all the family I need.

After the meeting ends, and Luc and Gabriel leave, I grab a jar of wine and tilt it back, not bothering with a goblet. One swallow, then another. The familiar warmth spreads through my chest, dulling the edges of my thoughts.

It's not enough.

I drink more, desperate to numb the ache that's taken root inside me. It shouldn't matter anymore. Rosa means nothing to me, but she means something to Praxis, and I will not allow her to hurt him.

I need a distraction, anything to take my mind off the need to find Rosa and demand answers—answers that Praxis deserves.

I grip the jar tighter and take another, longer drink. Still, it's not enough. Nothing is .

Except…

I try to shake off the thought, the need, but it keeps tugging at me, drawing me toward the tent flap. Before I can think better of it, I stumble outside.

The cold night air hits me like a slap, but I barely notice. Snow crunches beneath my boots as I make my way through the camp, wine sloshing in the jar I still clutch.

My feet know the way to her, even if my mind is clouded.

I reach her tent and call out her name.