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When she returned with the medicines, she packed them into the medical pouch that once belonged to Erlan. The linen strings of it closing tightly, she set it inside his bag.

She remained kneeled by his belongings, gently running her fingers across the things she’d grown accustomed to.

His blades, his journal, the heavy leather coat. The linen shirt and wool underlayers. There was a small set of combs and wax that she assumed one would use on their hair - although she’d never seen him pull out either one. There was Erlan’s compass. The overly luxurious goose feather pillow - she did not expect to see it strapped to his traveling pack.

Her throat tightened at the thought that within minutes, he and all these things would be gone. She held his shirt in her hands, and, without thinking, she held it up and inhaled its scent.

Lavender and coriander, from the soapy water in which it was washed. And under those notes, there was the lingering scent; smoky, a bit wild, reminiscent of bergamot oil and sandalwood.

She felt the tears well up. She loved Aimak and the farmer’s wife. She loved the farm, the farmhand and his wife, their small oblivious child, and on some level, aside from the events of these past few days, she still cared for Amir. He had terrified her; he had turned into someone she did not recognize, but she could not help but think of the orchards and nights spent giggling away from the other's ears—just their little world.

Perhaps it could go back to that still… She could not leave.

But Marat...

He’d said it once, two peas in a pod. A one legged hunter, once of a noble home, on the run. And she, pursued by shadows - a Golden unable to give birth. They were all each other had left in the world.

But they wanted her here. They cared for her as parents would. She contributed, she worked hard and she was happy here.

Happy.

The knock at the door came hard, demanding, and unrelenting. It scared her and made her jump and drop the pack. Marat appeared from behind, covering her mouth before she could call out to whoever was outside.

“They’re here for me, girl. This is not your fight. Remember this, and say nothing else, you slept all night after too much wine. And I had not come home. You don’t know where I had gone, but we had fought before I left.” He whispered fast into her ear, his eyes on the door where the pounding continued. “I had hit you - I was drunk. Say that.”

She shook her head furiously, no. Was he mad?

“Say I’d hit you, or they will suspect you too.” He insisted. “Do this for me, girl.”

She turned and stared at him, eyes wide and tears appearing at the corners. The moment had come sooner than expected, and she wasn’t ready.

He let go of her.

“A minute, please! I am undressed!” She shouted to the door, where the knocking ceased only then. She hushed, “How will you leave? Where will you go?”

“Valeria! Open!” The voice was Aimak’s. She’d never heard him with such intensity.

“There is no time.” Marat hissed. He slid to the cot and pulled something heavy from underneath. “By All-Father, girl, can you move faster and change - he will open the door himself if you do not.”

As if waking up, she quickly pulled a nightshirt over the bloody dress. As she was at the last button at the top, she glanced and the room was empty. She was alone.

Marat had gone.

Slowly, she opened the door, squinting at the sun shining outside - the candle's brightness shamed by it in comparison. There stood Aimak Sein, the farmhand, and two men who had come the night before. All had faces as if made of stone - mouths downturned and brows furrowed.

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“Tell Marat to come outside,” Aimak told her.

“He is not here.” Her lie sounded forced, but she hoped it would be mistaken for early morning haze. “He had not returned last night…”

She hesitated; the looks on their faces had not changed as she hoped. Hurriedly, she added, “We’d fought, too much wine.”

The farmer's face softened a bit, his eyes falling on her battered arms - one bandaged.

“Lock the door, wedge it shut should he come back. Do not let him in; scream if you must.” He warned her.

“What has happened?” She attempted to look surprised. She did not have to try too hard. The looks on their faces gave her more of what happened than Marat had.

“The heart’s retaliation,” Aimak told her quietly, leaving it at that.

She narrowed her eyes, watching them walk away.

She knew that it was Amir. Whatever happened, it had to do with Amir.

Closing the door she turned, and Marat had been right there in the room. He held something, but she could not see what it was. Although, it had seemed as if his arms were strained from the weight.

“The silver stag’s hide.” He said. “If you leave it somewhere and forget, you will never find it again. You can only see the fur reflected in the moonlight. And not by day. Anything that should happen to be shrouded by it, one cannot see as well.”

“What did you do, Marat?” She whispered, bypassing his words.

“You truly want me to answer?”

“Yes.” She wanted the truth.

“A love-struck fool, his passion and callow had allowed his heart and mind to be twisted and corrupt. He’d attacked me.”

She searched his face, trying to read what had come of the encounter.

“Is he dead?” She finally said.

He didn’t answer but kept eye contact with her.

“Marat, is he dead?” She repeated, only louder.

“He was not when I left him.” He said.

He knew that the boy’s injuries were severe. If where the hook had pierced the shoulder had hit an artery, he would be dead already. Had it not, his weight might have just snapped it - sending him dropping to the floor. The latter might mean he was already conscious and had named Marat. He had not cared for the boy’s fate either way - as both had meant he would have to leave. The boy was family to the farmer and his wife. At best, he rendered him unable to work. At worst, he was dead. They would chase Marat out for this crime or kill him.

“You defended yourself. We could explain–” Val started, but he cut her off.

“Don’t be stupid, girl. This is not the way of the world. There is no justice. And what would you have me tell them? That a creature of the Nothing had poisoned his head? That he’d come after you? Have you not lived here the past year as I have? This is not the same world that you and I live in. They might know of the Nothing, but it had not yet come to their front door.”

She felt her hands tremble. She knew he had been right, no matter how much she wished he wasn’t.

“Where will you go?” She asked.

“South. To Sudraj.”

“You will not return to your home?”

“I have no home, girl.” His face looked so tired. “Perhaps my fears that Aisultan will send hunters after me are well founded. Perhaps not, and he will not waste precious resources on the cusp of war. But there is not a place there for me.”

“What are you seeking in the South?”

“Asylum. The enemy of my slaver is my friend.” He told her, turning away and hoisting the pack onto his back.

Val fiddled with her hands again, looking away. Internally, she screamed, overcome with turmoil and emotion. And most of all, fear. She held her eyes on Marat’s back a moment.

But, still, she was not a brave girl.

He cracked the door, scanning the courtyard, and glanced back at her. She would not meet his eye. He stepped forward but paused, looking back again.

“Be well, Valeria.”

She was so choked up she could not speak. And when she heard the door shut behind him, she started sobbing, throwing herself on the cot. Her heart felt as if it would burst or perhaps stop beating altogether.

She’d never felt so completely and utterly alone.

What had she done…

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