Torelen had many port towns, none that Canelle had ever visited, all of which she was eager to see. She’d told Valkom that she didn’t care where they went as they were planning to leave Gaidos, as long as she could see the seaside and hopefully smell the bright yellow flowers the Dietra Bahar Araullo had called her favorites. 

The sea had an air to it, and Canelle swallowed a mouthful of it, standing barefoot on a small cliff, scanning the veiled horizon. The morning fog had yet to lift and it hid the smaller islands Valkom tried to point out to her earlier. 

He’d been rambling to her, off to the side, and she had been too overwhelmed by the sight to pay much attention. She felt bad, so she focused on him. 

“...and it hasn’t been so bad because the focus shifted, I guess. I expected her to write further on the kiss. On what it meant to her, because I’ll be honest, I don’t know what she meant by it then.” His hair had grown long enough that Canelle was annoyed at the awkward length. She’d been tempted to ask him if he wanted help tying it up. That was a conversation she would earmark for later. 

“So you’re upset that her latest entries haven’t been about you?” she asked instead. 

His mouth thinned, not pleased with Canelle’s insinuation, “Let me make it perfectly clear that I don’t expect anyone’s world to revolve around mine.” 

"You expected her world to revolve around yours.”

“N-no! Not that either.” He threw his head back and sighed. The cool breeze had a moisture to it, that felt good to breathe in while cold, although Canelle suspected her thoughts on that would change in the heat. 

“You’re worried you won't see the takeaway.” His traveling companion said, making a genuine effort to see his perspective. “That you’re missing what she wants you to take away from reading her journal?”

“Yes!” He pointed at her. “Exactly that. How am I supposed to know where I messed up if she doesn’t say it outright?”

Canelle nodded, “You’re usually good at reading people’s characters, what about Nikase is different?”

“I don’t know.”

“Art,” she’d remembered to call him by the alias this time. “Do you think perhaps there’s a chance… that you didn’t mess up. That the reason for her staying in Dofev is not a result of something you did?”

“How could it not be?” He exclaimed into the open sky. “I’m the fuck-up.” 

She said nothing, and that said a lot. 

“See, you can’t even argue I’m not.” 

“You’ve done good things too,” she tried arguing. “Lior is finally in a position to do good because of you. You orchestrated all that.”

“Me pawning off my responsibilities on her was not a ‘good thing’ just because it happened to produce a good result. That’s happenstance.” He knew what Canelle was going to say next as well. “Even if it is what she wanted.” 

“You got me there.” She climbed down from the small cliff and put her shoes back on. “You promised I could see viones somewhere around here. Where are they?” 

“Oh, right, this way.” He led the way further down the beach and towards vegetation.

She could see the small yellow dots from quite the distance, but that only made sense because the flowers were massive up close. They were the size of a soup bowl and had a distinct citrus smell, that took her back to the day Bahar took her to her great, grandfather’s garden. 

Some moments were only meant to be experienced once. 

She touched her fingers lightly to one of the flower’s petals, taking a minute to appreciate the scent and the color, and fighting the urge to take it with her. It wouldn’t live long if she took it anyway. 

She had a habit of losing track of time, and had done exactly that. Valkom was gone from the spot she’d left him in. That wasn’t good because he had been feeling particularly vulnerable for his character in the latter half of their voyage. Surely, he couldn’t have gone far.

“Artie?” she called out, then again a little louder when there was no response. She walked in small circles, coming back to the same spot twice in case he’d circled back. 

When that resulted in nothing, she walked out of the brush and onto the beach to see if he was near the water. He wasn’t. Where had he gone?

“Art, seriously…” From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement. She reached for it. “Artie, what the—” 

It wasn’t Valkom’s sleeve she grabbed on to, and now she was mortified. 

“I am so sorry!” she released the person. “I thought you were my friend.” 

“Not a problem,” the young man assured. “Are you lost, though? I’m pretty sure town’s that way, if that helps.”

He was tall, not Bevij, with a tan complexion and dark-reddish hair. He must’ve been a tourist as well, although his clothes didn’t imply that. Furthermore, he was somewhat overdressed, as if he were on his way to a semiformal event. 

“Actually it’s not,” another voice approached, a woman’s voice, accented. “It’s a bit of an angle from the coast, but if you head west you’ll find the main road regardless. My apologies, my friend here is not from here.”  

She implied that she was a local, but she too was wearing a similar garb than the young man. She was also tall, albeit with a leaner, muscular frame. Her long red-brown hair was braided down the right side of her face. 

“Thank you,” said Canelle. “I’m looking for my friend though… have you seen anyone else out here? He’s about this tall, has a pretty good tan, his hair is brown, and it's kind of messy looking right now. I think he was wearing a gray coat.” 

The woman looked at her friend, who shrugged. “No, we haven’t seen anyone else here aside from yourself. We can help you look. What is his name?”

“Artie.”

Perhaps Canelle’s anxiety was getting the best of her… but the woman’s eyes fell to Canelle’s coat, and she appeared to register something. She glanced down, wondering what was off about her attire. The coat she was wearing was nondescript, it was Liorit’s family house colors, but those weren’t particularly notable. 

“Artie!” The woman turned towards the trees and shouted. With her back to her, Canelle only then noticed the blades strapped to her waist. They were partly hidden under her formal jacket, intentionally peaking out. 

Her heart nearly shot out of her chest. Who were these people? Why did they have weapons? And did they somehow know Valkom’s true identity?

The two strangers either didn’t notice Canelle’s apprehension or were being polite by ignoring it. The man walked off west and joined his partner in calling out for Artie. She followed them deeper into the wooded area, which in retrospect was the worst idea if she actually thought she was about to get murdered. 

But no, something was off, just not that off. 

“Artie!” she finally yelled out. 

“Canelle?” 

Valkom’s voice was in the distant direction they were walking towards. 

“Where did you go—” he stopped, catching sight of the woman walking in front of Canelle. “Chaya?” 

“Chaya?” Canelle repeated, mouth ajar. Valkom’s ex-wife ‘s name was Chaya and that wasn’t a common name. 

“Valkom,” said the woman, confirming Canelle’s theory. “You look like shit, what are you doing out here?”

“What are you doing here—” He met eyes with Chaya’s companion, and his expression fell. “Oh fuck.” 

“Fucking… punch me, man.” Valkom muttered to Chaya’s companion, who’d Canelle just learned was named Agustine. “You must be dying to.”

Agustine had gone real quiet upon recognizing Valkom, he was walking a little ahead of them as they all made their way back to town together. 

“I hadn’t realized you two knew each other.” Chaya noted, fully aware of the obvious pre-existing bad blood between the two, some may say, intentionally poking the bear. “What’s that about?”

Agustine said nothing, and Valkom said nothing. 

Chaya, leaned over to Canelle to whisper, “I’m sure whatever it is, can be resolved over a pitcher of liquor.” 

Her accent came through on the word ‘liquor’. She recognized it now as Rudian. Chaya was the famed Champion of the Ruda Ridge. A nomadic colony of travelers, known for their fighting skills. That explained the weapons and the well-defined muscles. 

“How do you know Valkom? If you don’t mind me asking,” she asked softly, allowing herself to fall back a bit in stride to match Canelle’s. Canelle walked the slowest because of her stature. 

“He’s traveling as Artie,” she corrected politely. “It’s probably for the best that we call him that for now.” 

“Right right, of course.”

“I worked for a family friend of his, and now I work for him.” 

“Ah, the babysitter.” She nodded, and Canelle agreed because she sure felt like one so far. 

They were meant to part ways when they arrived in Torelen, that had been the plan. Yet, she got the feeling that Valkom was procrastinating. That he didn’t want to be alone. Perhaps he could travel with these new friends.

“Where are you guys headed?” Chaya asked. 

“Here. I don’t know what the plan is from here on.” Canelle wanted to ask a question of her own. “Were you two really married?”

“Ha!” she laughed. “Artie wishes.” She winked. “In name, for the most part, that is true. Oh, that reminds me, where is Lior?”

Canelle blinked the feeling in her gut away. Fortunately, the question had been directed at Val. 

“Didn’t you hear?” He said turning back. “She’s the interim monarch. You never answered my question, by the way. Why are you here? The Ruda isn’t in Bevij right? Even I would’ve heard about it, if they were.”

“Right, I did hear something about her marrying some deadbeat king.” She winked at Canelle again. “You’re right, the colony is not in Bevij. I left the colony.” 

“You what?” he gaped in disbelief. “But you were their leader?” 

She laughed, a deep hearty, attractive laugh, stretching her arms over her head, and shrugging. “I guess you could say I too ‘pulled a Valkom’.” 

“You left a traveling colony… to travel?” His eyes narrowed. 

“Look, I will be the first person to defend the rights of my people, all the same I’m not above all criticism of the Ruda. There were some things I didn’t agree with, so I took a stand.” 

“Huh…” he hummed. “That’s very like you. And better than ‘pulling a me’, if you ask me.” 

“Admirable,” mumbled Agustine. 

Chaya motioned at her friend. “Agustine’s family also left the colony a long time ago. We travel as mercenaries now.” 

“Muscle for hire? Just the two of you?” asked Val. 

“No, our group is staying at the inn in town. We were sightseeing, but we’re headed to the islands to protect some rich guy on a boat. I believe he’s headed for an island off the coast of Bravados.”

“Huh…” 

“Is that far?” Canelle cut in.

“The island?” She shrugged, “about a two-week journey on boat.” 

Valkom met Canelle’s gaze, and they had a discussion with expressions alone. 

He wanted to go. Canelle wasn’t letting Valkom anywhere near the group of mercenaries. But Valkom could tell Canelle wanted to go to this island, and used the fact to entice her. Canelle did want to go to the island, only not enough to stow away on some guy’s boat. The logistics were ridiculous. Valkom would let her think about it. 

She had no idea if the ‘island off the coast of Bravados’ was the same island Bahar had told her about that same evening in the garden. She had called it a place where the colors that could not exist, existed, a place as close to magic mortals would ever experience. The place where she longed to spend the rest of her life.