The fires were warm, and the company was buzzing with the success of the day. It was a new town, and the money flowed freely as people walked from performance to stalls, called by the hawkers and bards to join them.

After a long day of performing, the men and women of the troupe were relaxing. They enjoyed a warm meal together, and ale and wine were passed around for those who wished to share in it.

Alvrey stood on the outside of the fires, as she often did. She was well regarded, and they welcomed her among them in the tents, but people always walked carefully around healers.

Across the room, Ezo got up from his seat with Kammon. He was talking to Jaroh, but his eyes rarely left his lover.

As close as the bond had pulled them, she had never thought it would take that direction. Genuine affection ran between them, though. If Ezo had found anyone else, she’d be happy for him.

Ezo said he knew Kammon, but he’d never seen what the Calamity could do. Not really. He’d never witnessed the destruction the man was capable of. She understood he was a soldier. She understood he had to follow orders. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid for the man that loved him.

“Alvrey, come try this!” Tamis grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the back of the room where Muri was making a concoction of spun sugar. Tamis’s hands were already sticky with it, but she followed him with a laugh. Mathis waited with a smile and a handful of the strange sugar fibers.

It was sweet and sticky and everything two young boys could want from a late night treat. She’d seen the way they’d pulled Ezo around today, though, so they deserved a little something.

“This would be a hit out there, Muri,” Alvrey told the woman.

“As soon as I can figure out how to sell it with a little less mess.”

“I think you have two dedicated fans who will help you with your experiment.” Alvrey laughed as Mathis and Tamis ran through the room to tell Ezo about the sweet.

They intended to make him try it as well, so Alvrey moved away. Things were still awkward between them, and Alvrey had no desire to face it again today.

After Ezo’s confession to her, Alvrey had watched Kammon and Ezo as discretely as possible. She thought Kammon had noticed, but Ezo seemed unaware.

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To his credit, Kammon seemed far more concerned about what their bond did to Ezo than Ezo did.

And what she saw between them was real. Ezo constantly watched Kammon, but she didn’t think he realized how often Kammon reached out to touch him, to stand closer to him when he walked into a room. It was in the way the world stopped when they looked at each other sometimes and in the way they spoke about the other when they were apart.

An arm draped over her shoulder and she turned her head and smiled at Jaroh.

“You seem to be in a good mood tonight,” she said.

“The Flame was a good draw. He damn near had them eating out of his hand. And who knew he had such a dramatic flare under all those sullen glares he used to share with us?”

“Apparently, Ezo did,” Alvrey said as she watched Kammon lean in and whisper something in the elementalist’s ear. Ezo turned his head and laughed into Kammon’s neck, but whispered a reply.

“Why do you worry so much?” Jaroh asked. “Does Kammon really deserve your animosity?”

Alvrey took a deep breath. “I grew up in a small town near the Shafra border. When I learned that I had the calling to be a healer, they took me to the University, and I didn’t return home until I was fully trained. The truce had already been called, but there were still skirmishes, and I traveled the area around my village to do what I could. When I crossed into Shafra, I saw the reality of what our War-Sworn had done. They welcomed a healer and they spoke freely of what they’d lived through.”

“It must have been terrible,” Jaroh said, his voice soft and comforting as he led her aside to have a seat.

“I met the people who survived him, Jaroh.” Alvrey whispered the words as if saying them louder would bring the man himself to her. “He leveled villages with no care who was still in them. He set flames to everything. They feared him above anything else. When he walked into a village, there was no negotiation or conversation. He just set their world on fire.”

“That isn’t the man we know,” Jaroh said.

“It isn’t the man we see, but I worry. What will happen to make him appear again? And then what happens to the people around him? Bound as they are now, what will that do to Ezo?”

“Alvrey, you see it as clearly as I do. There is love there.”

“Does that trump the years he spent in blood-craft?”

“War stains everything it touches. Do you hate Kammon for what he did?”

“No, I understand the War-Sworn and their commitment to keeping us safe, but Kammon is more than stained. He is drenched in blood. I’m afraid he’ll bring that down on Ezo.”

Jaroh looked at the two men, and Alvrey followed his gaze. Ezo leaned forward in his seat, listening to a story one of the men was telling. Kammon sat next to him, his arm over the back of Ezo’s chair. A smile graced his lips, something that Alvrey noticed happened much more often since he and Ezo had become lovers. Kammon was handsome, but when he smiled at Ezo, it was hard to look away. He was devastating in his love, and Alvrey ached for her friend.

It was a terrible thing to be loved by the Calamity. She couldn’t help but remember Ezo’s words. He’d threatened to burn anyone that came for Kammon. But Kammon could burn the world. What happened when the powers that be came for Kammon’s lover? Would anything survive the Calamity?