I cast an assessing gaze towards Vianna. Her stare bored into Yalla with such intensity that even I felt the discomfort. The petite, silver-haired witch in turn kept her shoulders hunched, head bowed, and her eyes locked on the dusty deck flooring, as if trying to vanish into the floorboards through sheer force of will.

There is no way I’d be able to do anything productive with both of them in the room—I decided. Not as long as their relationship remained what it is now.

Trying to fix whatever was going on while knowing so little would have been a fool’s errand. Vianna didn’t particularly impress me with her insightfulness or craftiness, so even if I granted that everything she told me was the perfect truth, I doubted that she has grasped the entirety of Yalla’s situation. So, relying on just what I learned from her would probably be an even worse idea than going in completely blind.

Only one way to fix my ignorance, I suppose—learn. In order to do that, I’d need to get Yalla to relax a little, give me something to work with. And I doubt that I’d be able to get anything out of her while she was this tense.

Which fit well with my plans. I did need Vianna’s help to collect some information for me, as well as do a shopping run. Doing it all myself would have been a massive waste of time now that I have someone better suited for it.

My approach may not be as sexy or intrepid as the one where I’d go out there myself, and make an adventure out of groping in the dark for items and intelligence I need, but I try to be a practical man. I’ll face plenty of turmoil on my path to power; there’s no need to create my own drama.

“Vianna, would you please hand me something to write with?” I said, gesturing toward the small work desk by the window, which was cluttered with papers and writing utensils.

She hesitated for a moment before walking over to the desk and returning with a large piece of coarse paper and a charcoal pencil.

I began writing my list.

I expected Vianna to already know much of the information I needed. Details like who the most prominent people in the settlement were, basic information about them, and all she knew about the Radiant Church members en route here. I also wanted to know more about the local powers, including her own coven, and whatever she could tell me about the upcoming war.

My shopping list, with a few exceptions, resembled what someone might need if their luggage was lost upon arrival at an exotic vacation destination—mostly travel food, clothing, personal hygiene items, and camping gear. It would be absurd to flee from danger only to suffer from something as trivial as chafing.

“Means of keeping one’s teeth clean?” Vianna asked incredulously as she scanned the list I handed her.

“You won’t be surprised to learn that I’m not a local. I have no idea what people here use in place of what I’m accustomed to, so you’ll find many of the items are more descriptive than specific. I don’t expect you to find everything, but do your best.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

I then reached into my pocket and handed her a small stack of silver Neris. “Feel free to keep whatever is left over.”

Vianna nodded, folded the piece of paper, and disappeared through the door, which still bore the scorch mark from her missed attack.

As the door clicked shut, Yalla’s shoulders slumped in relief, almost making her drop the tray of food she was still holding.

I took in Yalla’s full appearance for the first time. If I had to compare her demeanour to anything, it would be a wilting flower—beautiful, yet clearly deprived of something essential.

Her lush silver hair, kept in a single, long braid reaching past her knees, was slightly dull and unkempt. Her skin appeared a touch dry, and the way her corseted dress clung to her hinted at more than just a few missed meals. It was clear that her current state was a far cry from the vibrant young witch Vianna had described.

“Why don’t you go ahead and eat?” I gestured toward the bowls in her hands.

Her silver eyes locked onto mine with such intensity that I almost took a step back, as if her gaze was pleading for something more than just permission to eat.

“…Or you can wait for that venison Jarkon promised to arrive,” I added with a shrug.

Yalla dropped the tray on the floor and fell upon the food with the urgency of someone who had been deprived for far too long. Ignoring the wooden utensils, she tore into the hard bread and dunked it into the meaty stew, shovelling the food into her mouth as though she feared it would be taken away from her at any moment.

“Ryder…” Anetta began, her voice tinged with sadness at the sight.

“I keep my promises,” I said, reaffirming my commitment to making Jarkon’s life miserable.

“I hate people sometimes,” Anetta muttered, her voice heavy with pity, echoing my sentiment.

I quickly approached Yalla and crouched beside her. She was so absorbed by her frenzied eating that she didn’t even notice my presence.

“Stop!” I commanded, grasping her bony shoulder.

Startled, she clutched one of the bowls to her chest, her cheeks bulging with food.

“But you shaid I could eadf!” She protested with her mouth full, her silver eyes pleading.

I extended my hand, palm-up, in front of her face. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up. Spit it out.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked at me with a mixture of desperation and fear. Goddammit, I must look like a monster, I thought, though I maintained my firmness, gently but persistently tapping her chin.

Defeated, her plump, wine-coloured lips parted, and she reluctantly dropped a large glob of half-chewed food into my hand.

I nodded in approval and dropped it on the side of the tray.

“Ah, to be a fly on the wall when these little witches report on you to their coven…” Anetta mused wistfully.

“…And then he hog-tied you and what? Asked to hire you?” She mimicked a mature woman with a smoky, sensual voice. “…And you, Yalla, what was this ‘food thing’ that monster did to you?” She burst into uncontrollable giggles.

“Quiet, you,” I chided, though without any actual heat.

Anetta’s mention of the coven made me wonder why more decisive efforts hadn’t been made to rescue Yalla from her predicament. Surely, sending a single apprentice who is clearly less than fully trained couldn’t be the extent of their efforts, could it?

I pulled up a chair and seated Yalla at what was presumably Vianna’s work desk, clearing a space by moving aside a mess of papers and writing implements. At a glance, most of the scribblings were painfully bad attempts at love poetry, written in at least two different handwritings.

I pressed the wooden utensils into Yalla’s hands. “Eat. But do it slowly. Chew your food.”

I poured a cup of water from the same pitcher I had used to wake Vianna after her unfortunate nap. “I take promises seriously, and I promise you won’t leave this room before you’ve eaten your fill and rested if you’re tired. You’re safe with me, understand?”

I kept my hands on hers until she nodded in acknowledgement.

“Well, that should keep her busy for a little while,” I thought to Anetta.

“So, we wait for her to finish before questioning her?” Anetta asked.

“Not at all. I don’t think pressing her right now would be a good idea. Like approaching a skittish animal. We’ll wait for her to come to us. Meanwhile, we’ll focus on something else, and just be there if she feels like filling the silence with anything.”

“Oh, focus on what else?”

“You did search the ‘library’ for ways to make me a proper mage, correct? Where do we start?”

“I-I did, of course. I mean, are you kidding? That was the first thing I dug into. But right now?” Anetta’s voice was cautious but eager, like a child who’d just been told they could have dessert before dinner.

“Any reason we shouldn’t?” I asked, curious.

“I mean… kind of. It will become clearer when I share what I learned,” she said hesitantly. “There are plenty of good reasons to start now, too, so it’s your call.”

“Let me know what I need to know, then,” I said decisively.