Chapter 71: Cenric

Chapter

Seventy-One

CENRIC

I rise before the sun, careful not to wake Everly as I dress. Her peaceful face tugs at my heart, but I force myself to look away. There's work to be done.

Outside, the camp stirs to life. I find Praxis by the dying embers of last night's fire, sharpening one of his daggers.

"Watch over Everly while I'm gone," I tell him, my voice low.

A brisk breeze ruffles his hair as he looks up. "Where are you going?"

I shake my head. "I'll be back soon. Just keep her safe."

Without waiting for a response, I stride to the corral and saddle Arrow.

His brown coat gleams in the early morning light. I check the saddle, ensuring it's secure, then grasp the pommel and swing myself up.

The leather creaks as I settle into the familiar seat. I gather the reins, and with a gentle nudge of my heels, Arrow steps forward.

His hooves crunch on the frost-covered grass as we make our way through the sleeping camp. Tents loom like ghostly shapes in the pre-dawn gloom. The scent of last night's campfires lingers in the air, mixing with the crisp smell of pine. As we pass the perimeter, I nod to the sentries standing guard.

The road to Karra stretches before me, winding through the forest. As the first rays of sunlight pierce through the canopy, dappling the path ahead, I glance over my shoulder at the shrinking camp.

I turn back around, determined to see this through, to right a wrong, to make Praxis happy.

The portcullis groans as it rises, revealing Karra's imposing silhouette against the pale morning sky. Towering walls stand before me, their dark surface glistening with melting frost.

Arrow's hooves clatter on the cobblestones as we pass beneath the gate, the shadows of the gatehouse momentarily enveloping us. The city unfolds before my eyes—a labyrinth of narrow, winding streets lined with buildings of various heights and styles.

I dismount, then lead my horse through the streets. At the first stall, I describe Rosa and the girls to an old woman selling herbs. She shakes her head and says she hasn't seen them.

I move on, repeating the process with a burly blacksmith, then a harried-looking fruit seller. Each time, I'm met with blank stares or shrugs.

Frustration builds in my chest as I approach a fourth merchant, this one selling bolts of brightly colored fabric. The woman eyes me as I stop in front of her.

"I'm looking for someone," I say. "A blonde woman, traveling with two young girls who look like her. Have you seen them?"

The merchant's eyes light up with recognition. "Yes, I've seen them. The woman bought some blue fabric from me yesterday."

My heart races. "Do you know where they live?"

She hesitates, clearly torn between helping and minding her own business. I reach into my cloak and place a gold coin on her table.

Her eyes widen. "There's a cottage on the edge of town, near the eastern gate. It's got a red door and flowers in the window boxes."

I nod my thanks and turn away. The eastern gate isn't far, and I quicken my pace, leading my horse through the winding streets.

The cottage appears as the merchant described it: red door, window boxes bursting with colorful winter blooms. I tie my horse to a nearby post and approach.

I raise my hand to knock, then pause. What will I say?

Before I can decide, the door swings open, and there she stands—my mother. Her blue eyes widen in shock.

"Cenric?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

Behind her, I catch a glimpse of two little faces peering around her skirts, their eyes—so like my own—wide with curiosity.

"Come back to camp with me. "

The lines across her forehead deepen as she tightens her fingers on the doorframe. "Why?"

"For Praxis. You can't leave him like that. He deserves more."

A flicker of shame crosses her face as she drops her gaze, staring down at her feet. "And what about you, Cenric? Do you want me nearby?"

I hesitate, my chest tight with conflicting emotions as I look down at the two little girls still peeking out from behind Rosa's skirts. "I want my brother to be happy." I nod toward the girls. "And I want them to be happy too."

I reach into my cloak, pulling out two sticks of candy I'd bought on impulse in the market. Crouching down, I hold them out to the girls. "Here," I say, my voice gentler than before. "Would you like these?"

The younger one, barely more than a toddler, looks up at Rosa for permission. At her nod, both girls step forward, small hands reaching for the treats. As they take the candy, I catch a glimpse of Rosa's face. Tears glisten in her eyes, and for a moment, I see the mother I remember from my childhood. Though, those moments were so rare, I'd almost forgotten about them. They happened before she shut herself away.

I straighten, meeting Rosa's gaze. "Will you come back with me?"

She glances down at the girls, then back to me. "Yes. We'll come."

As I wait for Rosa to gather the children and a few belongings, I let my eyes wander over the cottage's weathered stones.

My anger and bitterness toward her have been constant companions for so long. But now, standing here in the warm morning sun, I know holding onto them serves no purpose. It's like allowing weeds to flourish and choke out everything.

The thought settles in my chest, heavy yet freeing. Letting go won't be easy, but I know it's necessary.

The cottage door creaks open behind me. I turn as Rosa steps out, a pack slung over her shoulder and the girls' hands clasped in hers. Excitement dances in their eyes as they look up at me.

"Are you ready?" I ask as I take the pack from Rosa.

She squeezes the girls' hands. "We're ready."

The moment we return to the camp, Praxis rushes forward, enveloping our mother in a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around him, her fingers clutching the back of his surcoat, as if afraid he might disappear.

The two little girls' wide eyes dart between Praxis and me.

Everly steps from her tent and moves to stand next to me. I don't reach for her hand—not in front of everyone. Instead, I move close enough to feel her arm against mine. To know she's near. To know she's probably proud of me for going and getting Rosa.

Praxis finally releases our mother, then crouches down, opening his arms to the girls. "Come here, little ones."

The older girl steps forward first, her golden curls bouncing as she moves. She studies Praxis for a moment before allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace. The younger one follows, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth as she toddles into Praxis' waiting arms.

It's a sight I never thought I'd see—Praxis reunited with our mother, embracing sisters we never knew existed.

Rosa's gaze meets mine over the heads of the children. There's a question in her eyes, a hesitant hope.

The hurt I've carried for so long still simmers beneath the surface, but I push it aside. This moment isn't about me or my feelings. It's about family, about new beginnings.

The girls look up at me as I force a smile, trying to soften my usually stern expression. "Welcome to our camp. I hope you'll be comfortable here."