Gale POV

“Lord Gale!”

Gale turned as Dustin jogged up beside him, helm tucked under one arm, enthusiasm written plainly across his face.

“They’re coming in tight,” Dustin said. “Solid cluster.”

Gale’s mouth curved slightly as he reached for his bow. “That so?”

He raised it high, and the men answered at once, the sound rolling through the ranks and scattering the last remnants of the fog left behind by the clerics’ tea. Whatever hesitation had lingered vanished beneath the familiar weight of command.

“Let’s make it count!” he cried, leading them forward.

As they took position, his thoughts tried — briefly — to wander. Nerina’s face rose unbidden: not her shock, but the steadiness with which she had met his eyes afterward, the quiet certainty in her voice when she offered further discussion. He forced the image aside, fingers tightening on the bow. There would be time later. He had promised himself that much. He just had to live long enough to keep it.

The first volley flew true.

Gale drew again, focus narrowing until the field resolved into angles, distances, and motion. The men followed his lead without question. For a time, the world was nothing more than bowstring and breath.

Whatever else lay ahead could wait.

Nerina POV

The conversation halted the moment Nerina entered.

Three heads lifted from the map spread across the table, its surface crowded with markers and carved figures showing the churn of battle below.

“Another force from the west,” one of the captains said at once.

“Bandits,” Percival finished as the overlapping reports ended. “Lurking for the aftermath.”

Nerina nodded. “Opportunists.”

“We’ve sent word to Gale’s unit,” Percival continued. “They’ll intercept before the bandits can fold into the main force.”

“If any of them are left,” Nerina said lightly.

Percival gave a brief smile and returned to the map, continuing his explanation of troop movements and terrain.

Nerina listened. Mostly.

Her gaze drifted as thoughts of Gale rose unbidden. Both on the kiss itself and what had followed — the unspoken understanding, the promise to speak later when the world was quieter. The memory unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Her pulse quickened, fingers flexing briefly at her sides, as though grounding herself against the strange, fragile hope she refused to name aloud.

“Nerina?”

She looked up at once. Percival was watching her closely now. “You agree?”

She glanced down at the map, taking in the positions in a heartbeat. “Yes,” she said. “Proceed as planned.”

Satisfied, Percival turned back to the others. Nerina folded her hands behind her back, forcing her attention where it belonged, though a shiver lingered along her spine.

Gale POV

They had already broken two smaller groups when Gale saw him.

The man stood just behind the bandit leader, far enough back to be confident, close enough to be seen. When their eyes met, the man smiled.

Something cold settled in Gale’s chest.

He spurred forward without thinking. His men understood at once. The path cleared before him, steel flashing where needed. Gale barely noticed. He reached the man in moments, seized him by the front of his tunic, and hauled him bodily onto the horse before carrying him clear of the fighting.

When they were alone, Gale shoved him down and dismounted, sword already in hand.

“Where are my sisters?” he demanded.

The man coughed, dust clinging to his beard. “Straight to business, then?”

Gale lowered the blade until its tip rested at the man’s throat.

“I won’t ask again.”

The bandit’s grin thinned. “Can’t help you much if I’m dead, can I?”

“What do you want?” Gale said.

“A way out,” the man replied. “Your people are winning, and the mercenaries know it. The Chief’s willing to trade.”

Gale’s grip tightened. “Trade what?”

“Your sisters,” the man said easily.

The words hit like a blow. For a heartbeat, Gale saw Nerina as she had stood in the tent — composed, vulnerable, and trusting him enough to discuss their future. The memory tore through him with brutal clarity. Guilt surged hot and sharp, tangling with fear and something far more dangerous: the knowledge that whatever choice he made next would shatter a promise he had never meant to break.

“And the price?”

“Confusion,” the bandit said. “Enough for us to slip away.”

Silence stretched between them.

At last, Gale said, “How do I signal you?”

The man nodded toward the horn hanging from Gale’s saddle. “One long blast. Meet us at Delphis Tarn at dawn. I’ll bring them.”

Gale stepped back. “Go.”

The man didn’t argue. He left at a cautious pace, glancing over his shoulder until distance made him bold. Gale watched until the man was gone, swallowed by the press of bodies and smoke. The space he left behind felt colder for his absence. There was no choice left to make — only the cost of it. He turned back toward his unit, already schooling his voice into something steady.

“Dustin,” he said, catching the man’s attention as he drew near. “Hold this ridge. If the left flank buckles, you reinforce — not before. Keep the horn silent unless the line breaks.”

Dustin frowned. “You’re leaving?”

“Things have come to my attention that warrant informing the others,” Gale replied. He didn’t elaborate. Command had taught him that certainty mattered more than explanation. 

Dustin nodded, trusting as ever. 

“You have the field,” Gale said, already turning away.

He cut along the rear slope, keeping low where the land dipped and rose, away from the worst of the fighting. The noise of battle dulled as he moved — steel and shouting fading into something distant and unreal. Ahead, the stone tower rose above the encampment, banners snapping in the wind.

She would be there.

His chest tightened as he slowed, scanning the structure with practiced precision. Windows, stairwells, vantage points — the same instincts that had kept him alive now betrayed him. He spotted movement near the stairs, a cluster of figures bent over a map, and then her.

Nerina.

She stood slightly apart, hands folded behind her back, posture composed even here. Her dark reddish brown hair was beautiful even at this distance. For an instant, absurdly, he thought of her laugh — quiet and surprised, as if she hadn’t expected joy to find her there at all. The memory struck harder than any blow.

Gale swallowed and urged his horse farther upslope, dismounting where the ground rose enough to give him a clear line of sight. He moved on instinct now, the motions familiar and brutally efficient. He nocked an arrow with hands that did not shake, though his pulse thundered in his ears. He did not rush. He never rushed. His gaze tracked her carefully as she shifted position, as one of the captains leaned close to speak to her. He adjusted his stance, angling for the moment when she would turn — when there would be no one directly in the arrow’s path but her.

This was wrong. Every part of him knew it. And yet every calculation resolved to the same outcome. If he hesitated now, his sisters would be lost to him. Their captors held his heart and they knew it. The future he had finally allowed himself to imagine — quiet conversations, unfinished words, the promise of later— was now a luxury he could no longer afford.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, though she was far beyond hearing.

The bowstring came back smoothly. His aim did not waver. He fixed on the place just below her ribs, where the strike would wound but not kill — where chaos would bloom without finality.

He loosed.

The arrow vanished into the air, carrying with it the full weight of his decision — not just between blood and desire, but between the life he had lived and the one he had, for one reckless moment, believed might be waiting for him.

Gale closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he turned away from the tower at once, remounting and riding hard, the sounds of battle rushing back to meet him. Behind him, shouts rose in sudden alarm, the field already shifting in response to what he had set in motion.

He did not look back.

Nerina’s laugh echoed in his mind — warm, startled, alive — and the knowledge of what he had broken settled like a blade beneath his ribs.

I’m so sorry, Nerina, he thought, riding away from the only future he had ever wanted.

Arianna POV

They found Nerina collapsed on the stairs, blood soaking through her side. No one could say how it had happened. Arianna was summoned at once. She did not waste time with questions as they carried Nerina to the clerics’ tent and laid her out beneath the lamplight. The arrow came free cleanly.

Arianna’s hands stilled instinctively, her senses alert to the subtle tremor in her friend, the quickened pulse, the shallow breath.

“Nerina,” she said softly, carefully guarding against the alarm that threatened to shout through.

Her friend’s eyes fluttered open.

“It’s Gale’s,” Arianna said. She swallowed. “Do you know what happened?”

Nerina stared at the canvas ceiling, her expression distant. Her gaze slid away, unfocused.

“No,” she whispered. After a pause, she added very quietly, “I feel so stupid.”

Tears welled before she could stop them, wetting her cheeks, and Arianna’s jaw tightened with a silent roar of fury and protective instinct. Her hands moved deftly, forcing Nerina to drink, shielding her, each motion precise yet charged with restrained wrath.

When Arianna cleaned the blood from the fletching, she saw it: one word, written carefully despite the circumstances.

Goodbye.

---

Yep, and just like that, I ripped them apart. I'm sorry I did this to you, dear reader. It upset me too. 

Thanks for reading.

xoxo,

tsiagisel