Ainreth sighed as he glued yet another anti-war propaganda poster on a wall in a dark alley.

They always got torn down soon if left in a very visible place by either the guards or war supporters, so he’d taken to putting them up in the darker corners of Kyr-Toryl where the watchful eye of the guards didn’t tend to reach.

Especially when he added his party trick to them.

Ainreth touched the poster, moving his other hand to make his power flow through him, making the big, bold letters glow just a little in the shadows here.

All the posters showed something different, but they were very obvious in their meaning. This one said Stop the war, which was incredibly basic, but it got the message across, Ainreth supposed.

Tyr-Haran had gotten into several arguments with him about calling these propaganda posters, but Ainreth wasn’t going to stop, though not only because it pissed the older man off.

They were doing the same thing as Varilik. This was propaganda, plain and clear, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

The important thing was that they were winning, though. The unfortunate side of that was that that meant that Fenn was losing. And Ainreth hated that he was the reason for it.

The people had certainly learned to like him much more than ever before, as they should. Fennrin was a war hero, but he simply didn’t have the fame that Ainreth had. People were just more likely to listen to him and to Fenn, and that wasn’t the shadowforger’s fault at all.

Ain was so sad that they were on opposite sides. It made whatever joy he got from beating Varilik fizzle out every time he thought about. Well, that, and the way Varilik seemed to be standing closer to Fenn every day. He’d gotten touchier with him, too.

When Ain had brought it up to Petre, they’d said that it couldn’t mean anything, but Ainreth had his doubts. The thought of the misborn touching his Fenn made him sick to his stomach.

He didn’t dare think about it. And yet his doubts and thoughts kept coming back to him. He wanted to corner Fenn somewhere, making him talk to him, but Petre had told him that would be over the line. Still, Ainreth didn’t know how else to try to handle the situation.

Did Fenn have someone to talk to that wasn’t Daryan? He hadn’t had many friends. It had only really been Ainreth and Petre. But Fennrin wouldn’t talk to Petre either.

One time, Ain had managed to convince Petre to go talk to him. And the first thing Fennrin had asked was if they were here on behalf of Ainreth. And Petre hadn’t lied, which meant that Fenn had ended the conversation there.

Ainreth sighed as he packed up his bag that had the posters and the sproutkeeper glue in them, slinging it over his shoulder and strolling down the alley, his thoughts as gloomy as the place.

It was evening, and it was getting a little dark at this point. He did like getting the cover of night. No one bothered him when no one could see him. But he won’t be able to make the posters glow at night, so he would have to head back home.

Tyr-Haran had said something moronic about going back to plan their next moves, but Ainreth wouldn’t bother with any of that. He wasn’t the person calling the shots. He was fine with simply doing whatever he, Anyri, and the other leaders decided was the best course of action, provided it wasn’t going too far.

And clearly it had been working. Though Fenn had been managing to sway people to Varilik’s side as well.

Ainreth shuddered as he reached the main road of the lower parts of Kyr-Toryl and started heading up it to the palace.

He wished Fenn would let him talk to him. If only for just a moment. Maybe they couldn’t patch up their relationship. It broke Ain’s heart to think that, but he would accept that. But he would never accept Varilik trying to worm his way into Fennrin’s life that way.

Fenn deserved the best. And Varilik was the worst.

Ainreth just couldn’t believe the turn his life had taken. He never used to mind being in his house alone, but now he could feel the emptiness so badly.

Fenn had even taken Snowflake away a few days after arriving here. It made sense since she was his cat, but Ainreth missed her. She’d been a comfort after he’d arrived here. The one creature that reminded him of Fennrin.

And now she too was gone. But Ain would rather Fennrin had Snowflake, if only for support. It killed him to imagine Fenn living at the palace all alone.

Well, at least Ain hoped Varilik wasn’t getting into his space in there.

Ainreth scowled, getting so angry from just thinking about all of this as he trudged on up home.

Maybe he should just go to a tavern and get drunk. But did he want to deal with other people right now? Definitely not.

As if the sun wanted to punish him for even thinking that, a group of people stumbled out of a tavern ahead, arguing loudly among each other.

By the moon, he hated being around drunk people. He realized that he too was an obnoxious drunk, but it was different when it was him. He didn’t have to deal with himself.

Ainreth sighed. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to stay sober for months. Just because of Fenn.

He really hoped he wouldn’t start spiraling again. He hadn’t yet, which was surprising, but it was probably bound to happen sooner or later.

Ainreth decided to just walk faster, passing the trio and ignoring them even when they recognized him and called after him. But he was used to that much, at least, so he kept walking. At least until one of the drunks yelled something that made him pause.

“The great Daybreaker turned out to be a coward! Figures,” one of the drunkards yelled.

Ainreth wasn’t even sure why he’d stopped when he’d heard that. He didn’t turn around, though.

“The Herald is right, y’know,” another said, laughing. “We don’t need ‘im. The Nightrazer’s gonna win this war without him.”

Ainreth gritted his teeth. The Nightrazer. How he hated that nickname. His own title didn’t imply that all he did was kill, but Fenn’s certainly did. And that was wrong. Fenn wasn’t a killer, he was just doing what he had to.

Ainreth turned around, his teeth gritted as he strolled over to the drunks. The sun had set, and there wasn’t enough light to draw power from, which was inconvenient, but he would make do.

“I’m sorry, do you want to repeat that?” he asked them, his fists clenched at his sides.

The drunkards laughed more, so obnoxiously infuriating. “What? Mad you got replaced?”

Ainreth marches over to them, so angry already for very little reason. He didn’t care about getting replaced at all, but he did care about these people talking about Fenn as if he was obligated to win the war for them. A war that they should surely not be fighting.

“So you’re war supporters, hm?” Ainreth asked, unimpressed. One of the drunks was leaning on one of the others for support. He would punch that one first if it came to that. Ain really hoped it would come to that.

“No, we’re just not cowards!” one of them spat at him. “We took you fer a hero. An’ look at you.”

“Not cowards, and yet here you are, getting drunk in Kyr-Toryl instead of fighting in Orinovo,” Ainreth provoked them. “Makes sense to me.”

One of the drunks laughed, but another one, a guy nearly as tall as him, gritted his teeth and pointed his index finger at Ainreth.

“Tough talk for someone who can’t fight after the sun goes down,” he snarled back at him. “What are you gonna do to us? You’re powerless right now.”

And Ainreth couldn’t resist anymore. He was slamming his fist in the guy’s face before he could even think about it, so encouraged by what the man had said.

The drunk stumbled backward, though not as far as Ain would have liked. Ainreth stretched his aching fist, wincing. He’d never been that good at hand-to-hand combat, but these people were drunk, so hopefully that would get him some advantage. Not to mention that he surely had more fighting experience.

“How dare you?!” another one yelled at him, taking a swing that was thankfully far too uncoordinated, allowing him to dodge and kick at the her legs, making her fall to the ground.

Ainreth almost felt some kind of satisfaction warm him when the third drunk managed to hit him in the temple hard, knocking him to his knees.

Ain groaned, trying to drag himself to his feet quickly, but his head was spinning. And very painful.

He barely managed to catch a fist flying at him from above, grabbing the guy’s wrist, but he couldn’t recover fast enough to get to his feet, another one of them kicking his side, forcing him to roll over.

“Sunder,” he groaned, knowing he was in trouble here because his ribs were on fire, he was trying to catch his breath, and he still couldn’t get up.

He truly felt like he should care about this more, but he simply didn’t. He had simply felt too dead inside for a while now to manage that.

But before another hit could land, someone yelled.

“Leave him alone!”

Ainreth used the distraction drawing away the drunks’ attention to pull himself up, groaning and rubbing his side as he did.

He shook his head and raised his fists, about to try to defend himself when he realized the drunks were already leaving, heading down the road and disappearing in the shadows.

“Sun,” Ainreth grumbled, shaking his arms out as he looked for whoever had called after them. “Thanks. But I could have beaten—”

He stopped when he saw a rather concerned but also angry-looking Petre heading to him.

“Oh.”

Petre huffed, looking him over, grabbing Ainreth’s chin with their hand as they approached and pulling his head to the side to look at the place he had just gotten punched.

“I cannot believe anyone would be brazen enough to attack you,” Petre muttered, looking very annoyed, nearly sounding offended.

Ainreth winced. He could easily not correct them and get away without getting a talking to, but he knew that was the wrong choice to make. “Actually…I punched first.”

Petre stared at him for a moment before sighing tiredly, running a hand over their face. The disappointment in their eyes squeezed Ain’s heart. “Really?”

Ainreth grimaced. “They were talking about Fenn as if he’s this hero who will fix all their problems for them.”

Petre frowned, actually looking a little confused. “So?”

“So?!” Ainreth repeated with outrage, his eyes wide. “Fenn shouldn’t be in this position in the first place. He shouldn’t have to deal with war, much less be the poster boy of it. That’s exactly what that misborn Varilik wants.”

Ainreth’s shoulders sank, feeling utterly defeated as he rubbed his sore cheek. He really had messed up here, but hopefully it would have barely any consequence. “I’m sorry, little guy. I’ve…not been feeling great lately. It must have gotten the better of me.”

Ainreth expected Petre to give out to him more because he would deserve it, but instead their face softened. They sighed and then spread their arms in an invitation for a hug, which Ainreth immediately took.

Hugging the much smaller Petre close to him, Ain let out a breath, melting a little as some of his tension drained out.

“Thanks, Petre. You always have my back,” Ain said, sniffling a little. His eyes were suddenly stinging, full of tears. Moon, he was a mess.

“I went looking for you,” Petre said, not letting go. And neither was Ainreth, clinging onto the sproutkeeper. “I wanted to give you space since you seemed to need it, but you were talking a while.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have let them rile me up,” he said, shaking his head as he pulled away. He patted Petre’s shoulder, smiling at them sadly. “It just got to me.”

“What’s done is done,” Petre said, nodding at Ain seriously, their eyes narrowed in disapproval. But their gaze was still soft and sympathetic. “I will no longer let you out of my sight, however.”

Ainreth blinked at them. “Huh?”

Instead of answering, Petre grabbed his wrist and started leading him away, up the road toward the palace. Ainreth followed, too surprised to resist. Petre usually didn’t take this much of a charge.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I will be with you every step of this journey,” Petre said firmly, still not letting go despite Ainreth following them. “And I will help you.”

Ain was too shocked to say anything for a while, but once he recovered enough, he smiled, his eyes stinging with tears again. This time however they were happy, grateful ones.

“Thanks, little guy.”

+++++++++++

Ainreth had actually felt better having Petre with him, supporting him, even though he felt a little bad about being such a burden.

Unfortunately, it only lasted about two days before Tyr-Haran ruined his mood. As usual.

“You want me to spy on Fenn? Seriously?” Ain huffed, his arms folded on his chest.

Tyr-Haran let out a long-suffering sigh. “You have the unique ability to pass by undetected. We should use that.”

Ainreth scowled at him. “To spy on my—on Fenn.”

“To spy on the Herald, more so. The shadowforger is clearly simply a figurehead. Much like you are for us.”

Ainreth snorted, shaking his head, his anger for the moment stopped by how ridiculous that argument was. “You are truly not inspiring me to go along with this.”

Tyr-Haran sighed, his shoulders sinking. The man truly looked tired, the wrinkles on his face somehow even deeper than usual. Ainreth hoped the reason was him irritating the man. He did so enjoy doing that.

“Look, the war supporters are supposed to be a meeting in a tavern on the other side of Kyr-Toryl tonight—at the Headless Dragon.”

Ain nodded. He’d been to that tavern a few times. Of course the only reason he could actually recall it was the fact that the tavern did indeed have a headless dragon hanging from the ceiling, albeit it was a carved, wooden one. That was simply too strange and different for his drunk brain not to retain.

“Fennrin will be there, and Varilik should as well. I want you to go there, invisible. Listen in on what they are saying. It’s invitation only, so it has to be important.

Ainreth sighed. He sometimes hated having abilities no one else had. It put him into these situations over and over again, and it was irritating.

“Fine. But don’t complain to me if they say nothing useful.”

Tyr-Haran just nodded at him, looking relieved. Ain wondered if the man had expected him to say no.

“When is it exactly?”

Tyr-Haran pursed his lips. “Noon. I suggest you go there ahead of time so you find a good place to hide.”

Ainreth shook his head. “I can’t do that. I can be invisible for a limited amount of time. The longer I keep it going, the more likely I am to drain myself too quickly to hear everything.”

Ain expected a jab from Tyr-Haran, but the man just nodded. He must have been really tired not to take the opportunity to berate Ainreth for his uselessness. “Very well. I suggest you go now. Wait for the war supporters to arrive so you do not miss any window of opportunity.”

Ainreth shrugged. It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do right now anyway. “Fine. I’ll just get going then.”

He truly didn’t want to talk to the man for longer than he absolutely had to, and judging by Tyr-Haran nodding at him and not stopping him in the slightest, they were in agreement about that.

Ainreth walked out of the house that served as the protesters headquarters. It was a large, abandoned mansion at the edge of the city. A rather strange placement for Kyr-Toryl, seeing as all the rich people lived in the upper parts of the city, but Ainreth didn’t mind the long walks home.

In fact it helped clear his head, though he tended to be invisible during them. He didn’t want another incident to occur. He’d gotten berated for it so many times, and to make things worse, that misborn Varilik had immediately used it as proof of his side being better because it didn’t stoop to violence.

Sun, how he hated him. Ainreth wouldn’t be surprised if he one day snapped and killed Varilik. He wasn’t that far quite yet, but he felt like it was possible if he got pushed further.

He headed up the road to the tavern despite it being very early. He could simply talk to the tavernkeeper in the meantime, though. Perhaps get a beer. And something to eat, as his rumbling stomach reminded him. He hadn’t eaten in a long time.

“Where are you heading? Home?” Petre asked, seemingly showing up out of nowhere. Ainreth had certainly not seen them until they appeared by his side.

“Oh, hey, little guy,” Ainreth greeted them, smiling, though he’s sure it doesn’t look very genuine. It was hard to be happy for any reason these days. “No, I have a mission.”

Petre blinked, then narrowed their eyes dubiously. “A mission?”

Ain wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell them the details because they would certainly have issue with it. But he probably should explain.

“What is it?”

Ain notes just how intensely Petre was looking at him. He waved his hand. “Oh, just spying on some war supporter meeting. Since I can turn invisible.”

Petre nodded, though they seemed to see through the fact that Ain wasn’t telling them everything. “Right, okay. You would have told me before leaving, correct?”

Ain grimaced. He hadn’t really thought of that since Petre had been away for a reason Ainreth had forgotten despite having been told. “Yeah, well, I would have if I knew where you were. But you were off doing, uh….”

“Discussing the situation with the Bulwark,” Petre helpfully finished the sentence for him, making Ainreth grimace.

“Oh. You have to go back to Orinovo?”

Ainreth hadn’t really thought about this much so far, too focused on his own troubles, but surely Petre would have to return eventually. Despite their involved with Ainreth, they had chosen to be a soldier to help Lys-Akkaria, and they’d only officially come here to accompany Ainreth home. They’d surely not want to throw away their soldiering, nor would they want to abandon that little friend of theirs, Enlin, in Orinovo to her fate.

“No, of course not,” Petre said immediately, shaking their head. “I would not abandon you. Nor do I want to help the Herald conquer land that does not belong to us.”

Ainreth paused. He had no expected that at all. But he supposed it made sense. Petre had been unhappy with the situation, too. But it was still a surprise that they would go against their orders.

“The Bulwark told me I either had to go back or stay and give up my rank,” Petre said, sighing. “I suppose I lost my rank when you ceased to be a general, though.”

Ain stared at them in horror, freezing on the spot. “You gave up your rank? Petre!”

Petre sighed and shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be a soldier without you.”

They said it so causally, so matter-of-factly, that Ainreth had to blink, his brain struggling to handle this. “You…. Why would you do that because of me? What about Enlin?”

Petre grimaced. “Enlin will be fine. She knows how to take care of herself. She is still recovering, so she will hardly be involved in any fighting.” Petre reached into their coat to pull out a letter. “A letter arrived today. I will write one back to her soon.”

Ain nodded, still reeling from the fact that Petre willingly decided to go down with this ship. But he said nothing. He felt equally as touched as he did guilty. Petre wasn’t doing this just because of him, but he was clearly a rather important factor.

Ain sighed. He didn’t know how it made him feel to know that Petre was willing to do something like this. It seemed like too much. He didn’t deserve this at all. But he wouldn’t insult Petre by arguing. It was clearly their choice and he should respect that. But still, he felt so underserving of a sacrifice like this.

“Anyway. I will stay here with you,” said Petre, resolute. “You need my support, and I will give it to you.”

Ainreth pouted. “It’s okay, Petre. You really don’t need to—”

“I don’t, you’re right,” Petre cut him off, making Ainreth frown. But before he could ask what they meant, Petre continued. “I want to help you. So I will.”

Ainreth promptly shut up, nodding once. Petre looked away, swallowing visibly.

“I haven’t said this before because you were my superior but….” Petre looked him right in the eye. “You are the closest thing I have to a brother. Of course I will help you. Especially when you’re right about the war.”

Ainreth stared at them, completely shocked. He was like a brother to Petre? He’d had no idea they felt so strongly about him. He’d assumed Petre tolerated him and put up with out of some kind of fondness, certainly, but not like this.

“You….” He kept staring because he couldn’t manage to process it all at once. “Oh.”

Petre sighed, wrapping their arms around Ain without saying a word. Ainreth was still too surprised to say much of anything, but he hugged back immediately.

“So the entire time I should have been calling you little sibling instead of little guy, eh?” Ain joked because that was the only way he could get through the emotions threatening to choke him, his eyes stinging.

He expected Petre to huff as they often did when he said stupid things, but instead they squeezed tighter, even as Ain gingerly petted their ginger head.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking just a little as he sniffled. Petre pulled away to look at him, a little bit startled.

“Are you crying?”

Ain sniffled again, avoiding their gaze. “…No.”

Petre’s gaze softened as they embraced him again. “Foolish big brother.”

Ainreth cooed, puppy-eyeing the top of Petre’s head that was right under Ainreth’s chin. Ain wiped his eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

Petre scoffed, shaking their head, pulling away enough to look up at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I can’t help it,” Ainreth joked, sniffling some more as he smiles at Petre. “You just called me your foolish brother.” Then he smiles softly, more tears falling. “Little sibling.”

Petre smiled up at him, tears shining in their eyes too. “Idiot. You’re glowing.”

“Aww.” Ainreth beamed at them, both literally and figuratively. “I’m just happy, it seems. I love you, little guy.”

Petre sighed tiredly, but Ainreth could tell they were happy. They couldn’t hide the little smile on their face from him. “I love you too, Ain.”

Ainreth wiped his eyes, smiling at Petre as he patted their shoulder. They started walking again in companionable silence, Ainreth still fighting happy tears from falling. Sun, he was overwhelmed now.

“Tyr-Haran wants you to spy on Varilik, doesn’t he?” Petre asked after a while, making Ainreth blink at them.

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, sighing. “And Fenn. How did you know?”

Petre shook their head. “I expected it to happen. You can become invisible. It’s the obvious thing to do.”

Ainreth sighed. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, you can’t go with me, little guy. I can’t keep us both invisible.”

Petre gave him a hard look. “Yes, you can.”

Ainreth groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s sort of hard to do, though. My control could slip. Not to mention it’s harder to hide out when there’s two of us.”

Petre gave him another hard look, firm and uncompromising, enough to shut Ain up. “I am coming with you. End of discussion.”

Ainreth grinned, unable not to be charmed by Petre’s huffiness. “And if I mess this up because I have to keep track of both of us?”

“Then I take our failure on my shoulders,” Petre said resolutely, clearly ending the discussion completely. Ainreth just smiled and left them be, patting their back, so proud.

It didn’t take long to arrive at the tavern, but they were an hour early. Despite that, though, there was already a sign telling them the place was reserved for private company.

“It’s difficult to imagine the High Herald existing in this place,” Petre commented, looking at it through narrowed eyes. Ainreth wondered if they’d had to drag him from here at some point while he’d been blackout drunk.

He sighed sadly. He really hadn’t thanked them enough for everything they’d done for him over the years, had he?

“Well, you know Varilik. Always pretending he’s like one of us filthy mortals.”

Petre gave him a blank look. “You are a rich, spoiled brat, an all-around famous man, and will live at least twice as long as a non-az-ari person.”

Ainreth pursed his lips. “Your point being?”

Petre rolled their eyes, making Ain snigger. “Anyway. I suppose we will have to wait.”

Ainreth nodded. They ended up going to the bakery down the road to get some delicious fried pastries, the hour going by relatively quickly. They both stared out the window looking out onto the Headless Dragon, and as soon as people started to trail in, they exited the bakery.

Ainreth led them farther away from the tavern before making them both invisible so they could get close without ever being spotted, grabbing Petre’s wrist.

Petre immediately moved closer to Ain’s side so they didn’t get separated, walking in sync to the tavern. There was a line at the door, currently, with a woman checking who wanted to enter and if they were on the approved list she was holding in her hand.

Ainreth frowned, studying the scene for a moment, not really seeing any space he and Petre could fit. Shrugging, he decided to make this easier for them both and walked over to the line just as a woman was stepping in.

Moving his foot, he hooked his boot onto the next person’s ankle, a tall, burly man, tripping him and making him fall back on the other people in line.

Cries of alarm and concern followed, the woman guarding the door rushing to come help, which was the exact thing Ainreth needed to get inside.

He didn’t even have to pull Petre along. They knew immediately, and they matched their step with him, both of them slipping inside and hiding in one of the dark corners of the room.

The fact that there wasn’t much light made keeping them invisible difficult, but Ainreth would manage. They could get out of here before he lost control and got them revealed anyway, so it was low risk, but it would be a shame to miss out.

It didn’t take long for the misborn Varilik to arrive, closely followed by Fenn. Seeing Fennrin so up close made Ainreth’s control slip a little, but he managed to correct it before he could mess up properly.

He seemed okay, at the very least. Fenn was wearing fancy clothes, which he would be happy about if not for the fact that it had definitely been Varilik who had given them to him. But that was just how things were now, and Ainreth really couldn’t let this bother him too much.

Varilik greeted everyone as they took their seats, but Ainreth’s eyes didn’t leave Fenn even once, studying him. Wanting any hint of Varilik mistreating him. But Fennrin seemed completely fine as he took a seat next to the Herald at the front of the large, rectangular table in the middle of the tavern. The worst thing Ain could notice about Fenn was that he seemed worried, frowning, with circles under his eyes.

But the trouble there was that Fenn tended to always look like that. Ainreth sighed quietly. He missed hearing him laugh. It was such a beautiful sound.

Just as Ain had thought that, he saw Varilik lean in to whisper something in Fennrin’s ear. And much to his appalled shock, Fenn laughed quietly, getting up and leaning on the table, beginning to speak.

But Ainreth couldn’t hear a word he was saying. Varilik had made him laugh. He dared to make Fennrin laugh. Varilik didn’t deserve to hear that noise. Ever.

“We are doing excellent progress,” Fennrin said, looking much less out of his element than when he’d had that speech in front of the palace right after arriving. Ain wanted to be proud, but it was difficult when they were on opposing sides.

“Ainreth and his supporters may still be ahead, but we are gaining on them.” Fennrin sighed a little. He truly didn’t look like he’d slept much lately. Ainreth could relate. “We simply need to continue our efforts and we will win over the people. They must understand how important this war is.”

Ainreth’s heart hurt to hear Fennrin talk like that. It wasn’t true. But he couldn’t seem to convince him otherwise, no matter what he’d tried.

“Maybe we’d do a better job of that if you were as good as the Daybreaker,” someone muttered, which made Ainreth grit his teeth. How dare this woman berate Fenn, especially using Ain as a measuring tool.

“Excuse me?” Fennrin asked her, frowning. He mostly looked confused, but Ain was sure he’d get angry soon.

“I said what I said,” the woman spoke louder. “Ainreth is more powerful than you. Stronger. More experienced. Not to mention much more famous. It’s no wonder our side is losing.”

Varilik got up, definitely about to give a speech. Ainreth could tell just because of the way his expression—his face was kept neutral, but there was a hint of anger in his eyes. Ain was very familiar with it.

“That is hardly Fennrin’s fault, no?”

The woman shook her head, shrugging. “Perhaps not. But it’s a fact. Not to mention that Ainreth is much more charismatic and likeable.”

Fennrin glared at her, his teeth gritted. Unlike Varilik, he was clearly not bothering to hide his emotions.

“Yes, Ainreth is so charismatic and amazing, a true hero,” Fennrin grits out, his words laced with so much anger it made Ain wince. “And I am not a good replacement. I am not as good as our sun-blessed general. Well, I am all you’ve got.”

Ainreth felt a chill run down his spine at that. He’d had no idea Fenn had had this much anger stored away.

“Because your hero decided to be a coward and not help Lys-Akkaria when it needs it. Instead he wants to pretend as though Orinovo will leave us alone if we leave it alone. And we all know that isn’t true. So go ahead then, if you think Ainreth is so good. Convince him to join us. Surely a hero would help.”

Fennrin lets out an angry huff, his eyes shining with tears while Ainreth stares at him in shock, barely remembering to keep him and Petre invisible. He couldn’t believe that Fennrin had this much anger toward him just bubbling under the surface. So much fury and pain. And it was all Ainreth’s fault.

And it was a fault he couldn’t fix. There was nothing he could do to help. Because he couldn’t be on the warring side here. He just couldn’t.

“Otherwise shut up,” Fenn added, sighing tiredly. He looked dead inside, his face sad and slack “We don’t have time to argue about impossible situations.”

Ainreth watched, sick to his stomach, as Varilik put a hand on Fennrin’s shoulder and then pulled him into a hug, sighing himself.

“You are wrong,” Varilik told the woman, still holding Fenn. Touching him with his dirty hand. Ainreth gritted his teeth.

“Fennrin is the best we could ever hope for. He is more powerful than the Daybreaker ever was. Perhaps he doesn’t have his fake bravado, but that only makes him more genuine. And he is clearly braver.”

The Herald ran his eyes over the entire tavern, looking directly at Ainreth as he did. Though he didn’t let his eyes linger on any part of the room, Ainreth felt a shiver go down his spine, freezing. Did Varilik know he was spying on them?

“So instead of criticizing Fennrin, perhaps it should be you looking to yourself and asking what more you can do to help?”

The woman didn’t reply then, staying silent and brooding.

The meeting went on as scheduled after that, but Ainreth didn’t take a single word in. He was reeling from what Fennrin had just said. From the anger in his voice.

Fennrin was so furious with him, clearly so hurt over what had happened. And all Ainreth could do was stand there as his heart broke all over again.