Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Cypherion

"Anything else?" the barkeep asked, a different one than the man with large ears. This one's voice was soft, her eyes dark as coal and hair somehow darker.

"Two ales, please."

She nodded, wandering down the bar to grab the drinks. I fished the coins from my pocket and left them for her.

Pulling a stool out, I nearly fell into the seat and leaned on the corner between the bar top and wall, head thudding back against the wood and eyes closing. I needed to calm myself down, regain some semblance of control.

There was a dull thunk and the jingling of the coins I'd dumped on the bar.

"Thank you," I said without opening my eyes.

"Food will be out shortly," she answered, and her steps faded into the chatter through the dining room.

With Vale upstairs and away from the watchful crowd, I was able to settle down. Able to tune out the obnoxious conversation of the men bordering on obscenely intoxicated. I was glad I'd come to get food rather than Vale.

And there she is, consuming my thoughts again.

Grumbling, I took a swig of ale. It was light with a hint of orange, one I hadn't tried before. Tolek would probably like it, but I preferred something more bitter. Stronger.

At least I had two.

Trying to distract myself, I pulled out a piece of parchment and my well of Mystique ink. Not that this was any more pleasant than the Starsearcher upstairs, but at least writing these letters was a routine I could walk through each day to make it feel like I was doing something useful. My friends liked to tease my orderly habits, but a list of tasks kept me focused. And focus meant I was earning something. Albeit, as I scrawled the letter, I couldn't quite say what I was earning.

Perhaps the title of doting son. Though, would one who qualified as "doting" truly have left?

As I folded the slip of paper and sent it off over the nearest mystlight, to a city hundreds of miles away, I tried not to picture the cold, empty house, cruel winter air streaking through cracks between the molding. Elbows braced on the bar, I scrubbed my hand over my face.

At the table behind me, someone complained, "No, Carthern, we can't lose any more money!"

"I hear there's a big beast of a warrior fighting these days," a man muttered, trying to keep his voice down, but my attention was caught by that one word. Fighting . "He just returned from the battles down south. Quiet and broody, spoiling every night. Always wins."

"If he always wins, then we won't get much coin betting on him."

"That's where you're not listening to my plan, Allisman. We bet against him."

My knuckles burned with memories of fights splitting them open. Stinging, blood dripping slow and warm across the cracked skin. I flexed my hands, that familiar itch starting in the tips of my fingers and traveling all along my body, longing for a fight. To check off another title earned.

Needing it.

I bit back the urge. I had a job here, one that would be jeopardized by giving into impulsive desires.

"Nah, you haven't thought that through," Allisman, dismissed. "People are rarely betting coin nowadays."

"They're trading something better." There was a hungry tone to Carthern's ambition now, bordering on greedy. My fingers curled around the edge of the counter. The barkeep dropped our food before me, but I barely looked at the tray. "They're trading fates ."

The wooden legs of my stool scraped against the floor as I shot up, spinning to crowd their table.

"Where are they?" I ground out, fingers flexing at my sides. Spirits, I wished I still wore my blades. Not only was I exposed without them, but warriors were much more willing to negotiate with a glint of steel reflecting in their stare.

"Where are what?" Carthern echoed. He was gaunt, but his eyes shone.

"The fighting rings you're talking about." I braced my hands on the table, leaning further into their space. Not enough to be entirely overbearing, just a shadow of intimidation. "Where are they?"

I could go tonight. Vale was safe upstairs. She wouldn't miss me, and if I won and could earn a piece of information about the Starsearchers' celestial readings without having to expose her secrets?—

"Lumin."

Angel's fucking luck . Half a day away.

I pushed back upright, crossing my arms. "Those are the closest?"

"Those are the ones worth entering if you want something valuable," Carthern answered. The other man—who I guessed was his brother based on their similar hazel eyes, sloping noses, and firm brows—didn't comment. He only assessed me, lips pursed.

Something valuable. Not only was it all I was interested in, it was all I would risk calling attention to ourselves for.

But Lumin was far. And Vale?—

"When I was four, I was taken from my family by the City Council. I was raised at the Lumin Temple until Titus found me—a prisoner, in a sense. " A cracked voice and my hand on her chin pulling her attention back to me as horrors spilled from her lips. Horrors that were only half the nightmare. The half she had words for. "I was ripped from my home as a child"—a huge breath—"and indebted to the temple."

I blinked away the memory and cleared my throat. "Where exactly?"

"Cliffs overlooking the lake," Allisman finally offered. "Just west of the temple."

He proceeded to give me clear instructions on how to enter and who to speak to. All the while I pushed away thoughts of the Starsearcher upstairs.

We were all facing things we'd rather bury. We needed answers to her current reading ailment more than we could afford to hide. We could enter the city and be quick with our business.

"Thank you for the information," I said, spinning away from the table, retrieving the tray from the bar, and slipping the ink into my pocket.

Allisman and Carthern's hushed voices followed me as I stomped back up the stairs.

"What did you get?" Vale asked eagerly when I returned, hastily pulling lids off plates and setting the table, as if we were a picture of domesticity. "Smells delicious." She beamed.

The expression on my face had to be confused, but it didn't give her pause. Instead, she dropped into the chair and raised her brows pointedly at the other.

This is fine , I told myself as she rambled on about the shops in Castani. This was civil.

"They're known for their goods mined from the mountains. We often imported them into Valyn by way of travelers. It's one of my favorite markets." She barely flinched when she mentioned the capital, but I caught it. A subtle twist of her lips before she pulled together whatever act she was conducting. "I love the jewelry forged here."

As she spoke of the different metals and the pieces she once owned, ease slipped over her frame.

I said, genuinely sad, "It's a shame we won't see it."

Vale froze.

I froze.

That was the first sentence I'd offered freely on this entire journey. The first that wasn't an answer to her questions or an instruction, but a conversation. It had simply slipped out. I ran my hand through my hair and dropped my chin.

After a lengthy silence, Vale said. "You wrote to her."

My head snapped up, and those wide eyes that were my utter weakness were trained on the ink I hadn't realized stained my hands. Her stare pierced right through me until I had no control over my thoughts and wanted to pour every word on the table between us.

Tearing my gaze from her and pushing the meat across my plate, I said, "As always."

"And she hasn't?—"

"No." My fingers tightened around my fork.

I never missed a day. Never received an answer from her hand, but sent them anyway, so she knew I hadn't abandoned her as he had.

Spirits, it twisted something inside my chest that Vale knew this about me. It burned in anguish, a knot of longing and regret that choked my throat and marred the civil ease we'd adopted tonight. What was worse, though, was the comfort Vale's voice worked against that knot, trying to undo it.

Ever since I'd first divulged this piece of myself, she'd done that.

"Every day since we left," I said, folding the paper and letting the ink take it away. My stare lingered where it disappeared. "Tolek stole ink from his father's reserves that night we packed up, and I've sent one letter to my mother every day."

"That's sweet of you," Vale said, and surprise had me turning toward her. The low mystlight outlined her profile, highlighting the softness of her smile and the compassion in her eyes.

She'd sought me out in my suite tonight, and I wasn't sure why. I thought perhaps she was lonely—who wouldn't be after being forced to move to a strange city, in a different territory, spur of the moment, only two weeks prior?

"I don't do it for that reason," I admitted.

Vale tilted her head, but didn't push. She did, however, perch on the corner of my desk, planting herself to stay, and the casualness of that action ticked at something inside my chest. It was an ease Tolek offered Ophelia. A gentle but wordless reassurance of, if you want to talk, I'll listen , but without any pressure.

"My mother is sick," I explained, swallowing and crossing the office. I fell into the worn leather chair behind my desk and toyed with a loose string in the seam. "She has been since I was little. Something in her mind, I don't know what. She doesn't see healers, but it's been over a decade of catatonic stares."

"And you've cared for her since you were a boy." There was something in her eyes I couldn't quite place.

"It's always been me. My father has never been around, so I've been it for her." I fought to keep the bitterness from my tone. "We were close when I was young. We moved around a lot until we settled in Palerman, but she was already gone by then. I wanted to start training—wanted…friends—so I enrolled myself in lessons. Met Tolek, Malakai, and Ophelia on my first day, and we never moved again."

Vale observed me for a long moment. I slammed up my guarded expression, but she seemed to dig past it. Discomfort beat against my bones.

"Your mother hasn't answered your letters." She didn't ask questions, I realized. Vale somehow knew.

Maybe it was a Starsearcher trait, something devised from reading futures, but Vale was someone I instinctually trusted. And my instincts rarely led me astray. So, I pried open wounds and explained things I rarely shared.

I shook my head. "I write to the neighbors, too. One letter per week, a few families on a rotation. They know I'm residing in the mountains now and have promised to ensure she has food and is taken care of. It's all I hear of her."

It was the only way I could stay in Damenal. The only way I could assuage a sliver of the guilt I waded through upon leaving her.

That emotion in Vale's eyes softened further, and I finally placed it: admiration. I didn't deserve it, not for doing what anyone should do.

"Why won't we see the market?" Vale asked.

Ripping myself back from that memory, I cleared my throat. "Change of plans for tomorrow." I cleared my throat again, my voice stubbornly rough. "We have to leave early. Head toward Lumin."

Vale stiffened. "Why Lumin?"

I chewed my words carefully. "I overheard men downstairs talking about fighting rings." Her brows shot up, but I explained what they'd said and finished with, "They say Starsearchers are now betting readings rather than coin."

"I can't?—"

"I'm not asking you to read," I promised. My knuckles went white from my grip on my fork at the thought. "I'm going to fight."

Vale studied me for a moment. Then?—

"No," she demanded, and this time my brows rose. "I've heard about the rings in Lumin. They've always been ruthless—dangerous. I'm sure they've only gotten worse since the war." She shook her head, as if convincing herself further. "No."

Her resolute refusal pried at something in my chest, unsettled and raw. "Too bad," I said. "You don't get to decide where and when I fight."

"Don't be so?—"

"So what?" I cut her off. For a moment, we glared at each other in silence, both dropping our forks. I leaned forward. "In case you forgot, I do this often. I'm capable of beating whoever this man is, and we'll be one step closer to figuring out this mess and going home."

Her jaw ground at my choice of words. Which part exactly had done it? Was it the mention of home, since she hadn't seen hers recently?

That was the point, though. If she wanted to return to her precious Titus, we needed to finish this. To figure out why her visions were faulty and how they were tied to the Angel emblems, given that she fainted when trying to read around them.

If we wanted an end to not only this assignment, but this entire mess, we had to go to Lumin.

Then, Vale could leave like she'd always intended.

Her silence after an actual conversation tugged at my weak heart, but I shoved it off. My emotions could stay out of this.

"Fine," Vale finally conceded. "I suppose it's good I spent time around Tolek."

"Why?" I asked, eyes narrowing.

"Because I've learned how to gamble well enough that I should be able to win some information before you're beaten to death in the ring."

I couldn't help the slight quirk of my lips. "Oh, Stargirl, don't you know I never lose a fight?"

It wasn't until her eyes widened that I realized I hadn't called her Stargirl since Daminius.