Nania’s POV

“Nania!”

A familiar voice caught my attention, as King Lordrin came striding towards me. The crowd between us parted like worshippers in the presence of a god, and just as he did last night, the king seemed to glow, golden light reflecting from his jewelry and illuminating the lines of his body. Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the arm, stealing me from my stupor.

“I see I don’t need to drag you out to enjoy the festival delights this time,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do wish you had told me you wished to go out. I could have arranged an escort. You’re still recovering.”

“That’s really not necessary,” I said quietly. The breakfast I had wolfed down at a merchant’s stall not long ago was no longer sitting well.

“Of course it’s necessary. Anything for one of my Priestesses. All of them are as wives to me.”

“But I’m still just a Candidate. I have yet to pass my trials.”

“Nonsense. With your talent and beauty—”

“Let her go,” a voice spoke up. Briefly I struggled to breathe. Though I felt a presence step beside me, I didn’t turn to look. Why would he come here?

King Lordrin gazed at the newcomer with an unimpressed look in his eyes. “It’s against the laws to touch or abduct a Priestess without her will, you realize. The Crown-Son and Temple could have you executed.”

“Then it sounds like you should let her go before you lose your head. You’re the only one here touching her against her will.”

King Lordrin’s mouth curled into a smirk. “But why wouldn’t she want to be touched by the Crown-Son? Anyone would be delighted by my presence and attentions.”

“She doesn’t look very delighted.”

The Crown-Son’s eyes narrowed, as he gazed at the newcomer like a man observing an insect. Not even an annoying, buzzing fly, but a worm driven from the dirt by the Moon Season’s rains. He asked, “And whose fault would you say that is? Mine, or the rude stranger speaking over her?”

“Isn’t that merely two ways of describing the same thing?”

“How dare you disrespect the King!” one of the accompanying guards cried out, gripping his weapon and taking up an offensive stance. Several others followed suit. “One’s tongue should be cut out for such an offense!”

“I’d love to see you try,” Talon’s voice purred beside me.

My racing heart exploded. Without thinking, I grabbed Talon’s arm and dragged him through the crowd, away from the scene. Though blocked by dumbfounded onlookers, we pushed through and broke free. Panting for breath, my mind was dominated by thoughts of how we had to get away. How I couldn’t simply sit and watch as the guards tore him to shreds. The crowd’s cries of surprise and confusion slowly faded, as our feet pounded against the roads.

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“Nania.”

I rushed us down another alley, ignoring the protests of my lungs and ankle. It was fine, it had healed, I could push past it.

“Nania!” Talon anchored himself by grabbing onto a wall and stood his ground. I yelped, falling backwards against him, but he easily caught me. His body was still warm. “It’s okay. They’re gone. We lost them a while back.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “...Still. Just a bit further.”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

I pointed up, towards one of the rooftops. Wordlessly, Talon helped me up, then joined me up there. It was one of my secret spots. One of the temple’s roofs, from which you could see most of the city. You could even see beyond the walls.

“How are you here—”

“Why were you limping—?”

We paused when we spoke at the same time. Then, with a sigh, I sat down on the edge of the roof, and gestured for Talon to sit next to me.

“I just fell. It was nothing, it had nothing to do with the Crown-Son,” I explained, as the wind tossed my wild red hair. My ribbon had come loose as we had made our frantic getaway, I realized. Absentmindedly, I unwound it from my braid and began playing with it. My attention drifted from Talon, or even the city’s view, and towards the bright green ribbon instead.

Talon scoffed. “I am not calling him that ridiculous name. What’s his actual name?” he groused as he sat.

A bitter smile touched my lips. Of course, he refused to show any respect to someone he disliked. He was the most straightforward person I knew, but what I had once found rude and tasteless, I now found charming and endearing. Funny how, once you come to like someone, their most annoying traits can become their most likable. “I’m not telling you that. He’s simply…concerned. I think.” A little pang of discomfort spiked through my stomach. Why was I defending him? Or was I trying to defend Talon from him? Trying to run off and…

“...Did you want to stay back there with him?” he asked.

I avoided looking at Talon, but I could hear the concern in his voice, as I kept distracting myself with the ribbon. A rare emotion, coming from him. He wasn’t just angry because of silly pride. He stepped into that confrontation and asserted himself because he was concerned for me, right? He was concerned for me. The thought made my heart flutter a little. I mean…Ellie was also concerned for me. But he’d never get aggressive like that, he’d use flowery words and fluttery language. What made this…different?

“No! I-i’m glad you got me out of there, I just—” I swallowed again. Suddenly my mouth was so dry… “...Don’t provoke him like that.”

“I only spoke the truth.”

I shook my head, then swept my hair from my eyes. “Still. Please don’t. If he knew who you were, he’d have you captured and sacrificed—wait, how did you even get here—?”

“Elian wanted to show me the city and have me meet his family,” he said, more nonchalantly than he should have. I could only groan, throwing my head back.

“And you let him!?” I snapped, slamming my hand down on the brick roof, green ribbon still binding my fingers together.

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“I was curious. It was only meant to be for one day,” Talon said. I could hear the shrug in his voice.

I swear. Talon thought he was the smart, rational one out of us three, but he was just as stubborn and foolish as Elian. If not worse. Where Ellie trusted in kindness, Talon trusted in his own power.

“Well, it’s a good thing I showed up,” I could only say.

“I don’t regret anything I told that fool. All of it was the truth.”

“Even if it nearly gets you killed?”

He was smirking as he responded. “Especially then. If speaking the truth is all it takes to make him want to kill me, then it’s a truth that deserves to be spoken, isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer that. My mind danced around the conversation, around the words that they had exchanged over me. It was like a scene from a fairy tale—two warriors of equal prowess, fighting over a maiden’s honor. Just days ago, I would have said I was no maiden. Hair that’s too wild, a body that’s much too skinny and gaunt. But King Lordrin had been about to call me beautiful.

Was that something he meant? Or was he merely playing a part, and saying what the story expected him to say? What a young and unloved Priestess Candidate would hope him to say—or what he thought I would hope him to say? I drew the ribbon tighter around my fingers until it left red marks, then bit down on my arm. Thinking on this would do me no good. No good at all.

“So putting aside…that. How do you like the festival?” I asked.

Talon gazed out across the vista, drinking in the view as he thought. His hair had grown much longer since the first time we had met, now reaching a little past his shoulders. With his hood down, the wind tossed and played with it. Talon did not toy with his hair or nibble on his fingers like I did, simply sat still, even if I knew there was an energy, an impulse to act, tearing him up inside. He was a true warrior, a true hunter. Not a Candidate playing pretend like myself. “...I did enjoy it,” he finally said, “more than I thought I would. I didn’t even dislike putting that brat in his place.”

“I’m sure that was your favorite part,” I sighed. Typical Talon.

“The view is impressive,” he remarked.

“Not as impressive as being out in the midst of it.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, tilting his head in neither agreement nor argument. “...I suppose it depends on what ‘it’ is. I like this view of the wastelands a lot more than being out there in person.”

I looked west. The Wastelands was where the Angra tribes lived, and where Gresha sent its exiles. Despite Talon’s words, I couldn’t see them as a very pretty view. The ground was bare and blackened, a sharp contrast to the lushness of Gresha and the Deep Woods. It was a land that looked…hurt. Scarred. Or maybe I thought of it as such because that was how the Priestesses always described it to us: a broken earth. A place no one would ever want to live, unless they were equally broken and harsh. “Really? I imagine that for someone who grew up there, it’d be prettier close up. From a distance it looks ugly, but closer, you can find places with a…unique beauty. Or maybe some sort of sentiment to you?”

The Priestesses had been wrong about how barbaric the people were, after all. Talon treated me better than any of them.

The line of Talon’s mouth grew thinner. “No. I don’t have many good memories attached to that place. I have a lot of reasons to avoid it and stay in the Deep Woods instead,” he said. “But looking from afar…it reminds me why I do battle. There’s a legend that the Sun Fiend did battle with one of the Great Dragons, the eldest of her spawn, in the wastelands. They burned everything. The scars of their battle are still there, you can still see them from this distance. It’s harder to see the full scale from close-up. This view reminds me how powerful a creature like her is, how powerful I need to become. It’s…inspiring.”

“Funny definitions of those words. ‘Beautiful’ and ‘inspiring,’” I teased.

“Not for one who lives on the battlefield.”

“And what about Gresha? Is it prettier or uglier up close?” I asked.

He turned back to the city, taking the opportunity to drink in the city before him. His eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips in thought.

“...It’s hard to say,” he admitted. “It’s…sickening.”

I frowned. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It’s…a place of abundance,” he explained. “An abundance of people and food and…warmth. To someone starving it would seem beautiful. But if you had too much of it, it becomes ugly. It makes you ill. Still, it’s easier for parasites and layabouts to survive. For the weak to survive, those who…shouldn’t.” Though his words were bitter, his tone was strangely nostalgic. “It’s ugly and it’s beautiful and it’s awful. A Heaven and a Hell all at once. Neither Angra nor Gresha cares for me. And just as well, I don’t care for either of them. It’s been years since I last joined Angra on a raid against the fertile lands.”

I wasn’t certain how to respond. Whether I agreed with his words or not, this was a part of Talon I hadn’t often seen before.

It was strange, why I liked Elian while disliking Lordrin. Both were such liars. Perhaps it was because Elian masked his lies with such a cheerful demeanor, or because I knew he had no intention of using me for anything. But a liar could be exhausting. And Elian was such a good liar that it was easier to simply believe him when he talked about his big dreams and ambitions of a better world.

Once I had thought I was in love with Elian. Or perhaps I was just in love with the ‘Elian’ he wanted to show me. But once you start to realize how much of a liar someone is, it’s hard to let yourself be wrapped up in his stories. You begin to see the cracks in his facade, the strings propping up the puppets.

Elian had never wanted to harm anyone. Quite the opposite. His lies were beautiful things, stories of a world he wanted everyone to see. But once I realized the truth, I realized our types of love were incompatible.

I still loved him. I still wanted to keep him close and never let him go. But I couldn’t rely solely on him to keep me sane, to spend a life with. As much as I disliked Gresha, it had taught me well that each person had those talents they were suited for.

Talon had his talents I found I needed, too. While Elian tried to make you believe in the possibility of his happy ending, and King Lordrin swept you up in his current as the ‘hero,’ Talon had little patience for lies and stories. He burned them away, like cloth and woven reeds. Talon’s aggressive and blunt nature distracted from his honesty. He called things out as he saw them. And after storms of gossip and scoldings and traditions and games and politics…his uncompromising nature was a sharp safe-haven. He sat on the roof gazing out across the city, unpleasant expression framed by scattered, windswept hair. It was hard to tell if he squinted and pouted from his emotions, or from the stay hair in his eyes. His face almost made me laugh. So earnest.

“Your hair’s a mess, Talon. Let me fix it for you,” I told him.

“My…what?” His attention snapped to me, his cheeks growing darker. Talon’s brown eyes were so dark, like the depths of the sea. “What do you mean?”

“Unless you don’t want me to?”

He turned his gaze away, hiding his face in the shadows of his dark hair. “Do as you will.”

Taking it as permission, I moved closer and smiled into the crook of his neck. With gentle care I wove my fingers through his silky, dark hair. His body was so cozy and warm, but his hair was so comfortable and smooth, almost as much as my ribbon as I tied it through his hair. Green against black. Somehow it seemed to fit—he spent so much of his time in the Deep Woods, after all. Lightly my knuckles brushed his forehead as I swept strands of hair from his face, then my fingers caught his chin, and turned his face towards me.

Briefly I tilted my head this way and that, observing him like a sculptor observed a masterpiece. He was beautiful too, though they weren’t Greshan standards of beauty. Though Elian’s dreams were considered unattractive, physically he could be considered quite handsome. The Greshan sense of beauty was all about warmth and hospitality, ignoring the faults of your neighbors and self-sacrificing for the greater good through a hundred tiny needle-nicks. Strength. Scars and callouses, and I could find a sort of beauty in that, but seeing the ways Ellie had been hurt pricked me with guilt and sadness at times, instead of admiration. But Talon’s faults were impossible to ignore. Like the spots of heaven, they only emphasized the parts of him I found beautiful.

The events of the day flowed through my mind. Though my heart fluttered and raced, I wasn’t panicked as I recalled them. They seemed to calmly drift towards me and away, as on a gentle river tide. Dennia’s mockery, Lordrin’s claims. Perhaps I would regret this, but my ever-present anxiety seemed to turn to excitement and enjoyment so long as Talon was around. And right now, all I wanted to do was chase that high.

Just as I decided I would not regret this, I leaned forwards to kiss him, only for our noses to collide, leaving a faint stinging. My head jerked back, and that was just enough time for me to begin doubting myself, as an awkward laugh escaped my lips.

“G…Got you…” I managed to choke out, as I realized my cheeks were burning. Quickly I looked away, trying to hide how anxious I now felt under my hair which was coming loose.

What was wrong with me today? I was acting so…so forward. So much more brash and impulsive than usual. I had decided to throw caution to the wind, but upsetting some classmates I cared little for and a friend I cared a great deal for were two very different matters. What if Talon didn’t feel the same way, what if I had just made things horribly awkward between us—

Then I felt a hand on my face, warm and callused, which jarred me from my thoughts and gently steered me back to look at Talon. I only had a moment to register his stern and driven expression, before he leaned in and kissed me back.