Zarek was an hour late that morning. Hadassah and Rahn had already started their warm-ups by the time he arrived.

  “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up today,” Hadassah called, catching his attention. She wasn’t wearing much, just a loose shirt, her baldric, and cloth pants. Her hands were tightly wrapped, as were her joints, to prevent any injuries during their training. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and she stood with her weight shifted onto one leg, arms crossed.

  “I lost track of time. I was busy,” Zarek responded curtly, offering no further details.

  Hadassah’s lips curved ever so slightly. She wondered if his tardiness had anything to do with visiting Esther’s family. If she hadn’t noticed his subtle kindness, she might have never guessed the giant had a soft side beyond all the muscle.

  They began their training soon after; Rahn was already set in his stance, watching Zarek closely. Hadassah took her place next to him, cracking her neck and stretching her arms. It had been three months; she improved at a steady pace; at least she could keep up with his normal pace now. They had sparred countless times over the past months, and each time, the space between them seemed to shrink as they grew more attuned to each other’s movements.

  Zarek didn’t hold back this morning. He lunged forward, his wooden sword cutting through the air. Hadassah dodged swiftly, ducking beneath his arm and spinning to strike, but Zarek was faster. He blocked her attack, the force of his parry sending a jolt through her wrists.

  “Faster,” Zarek said through clenched teeth, though the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

  Hadassah scoffed and suddenly ducked, a fist coming from Rahn forcing Zarek to block. Hadassah swerved on her hand, kicking Zarek’s legs, but Zarek tried to jump back. Rahn’s wings meant he could follow closely, keeping Zarek’s arms busy. The rest of his body was fair play for Hadassah, who rushed into a partial front flip. Her hands pushed against the ground, propelling her feet first up, she wrapped her legs around Zarek’s neck, while Rahn tackled his legs. With Hadassah’s thighs constricting his neck, Zarek had no choice but to fall.

  If this had been a real fight, Zarek would’ve kept going, but for today, forcing him to fall was enough.

  “Alright, you guys did good,” Zarek said, impressed. Hadassah relaxed her legs and sat atop him, her elbows resting on her knees. She looked down at him, admiring his strength and his dedication. In the three months she had known him, not once had he spent a day without practising. Even someone as skilled as Zarek worked hard to improve, and it made her realise how much more she could push herself.

  “Get off me.” He said gruffly.

  “You know,” she said with a playful grin, “I like when you’re under me. Makes me feel powerful for a moment.”

  Zarek’s ears turned red, and he lifted her off him with ease. “I get that you enjoy making me flustered, but at least have some decorum.”

  Decorum? Hadassah couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did you learn a big word like that?”

  “Ha ha, very funny.”

  The three of them took a break, wiping down with towels and drinking water. They sat against the wooden barracks wall, cooling off from the morning’s training. A comfortable silence stretched between them until Hadassah decided to ask a question that had been on her mind.

  “Kaladin’s master,” Hadassah began, breaking the quiet. “What’s she like?”

  Zarek looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “She’s a great woman,” he finally said, choosing his words carefully. “But I couldn’t tell you if she’s a good woman.”

  Hadassah tilted her head, curiosity bubbling inside her. “I’d like to meet her one day.”

  Zarek’s gaze darkened, a scowl appearing on his face. “Why would you want that? She’s not a person you’d want to meet.”

  Hadassah paused, the real answer she wanted slipping from her grasp. Instead, she shifted the conversation. “I met Esther the other day; she had these lovely new shoes on.”

  As she started to speak, she saw his body stiffen as if a cold breeze had washed over him on this sunny day. And a blush crept over his neck like rosebushes on a garden wall.

  “That—I didn’t mean to give her that; I found some spare shoes.”

  “You, found little girl’s shoes, where?”

  He stuttered, so maybe he had bought them for her. “Don’t get me wrong, humans are the worst creatures to be brought into this world, but,” he steadied his voice, unable to meet her eyes, “she’s just a child. I don’t know what sin she committed; she was merely unfortunate to be born human.”

  Hadassah was silent, and seeing she didn’t reply, Zarek wasn’t sure how she was reacting to his words. She was kind to half-castes, so surely she wouldn’t look down on him for his actions. He gathered the courage to look up, and her expression left him stunned. She was smiling, but it wasn’t a happy smile—it seemed bittersweet. Her eyes seemed moist, and her lips were pressed together, her brows relaxed; it was a smile of relief.

  A beautiful one nonetheless.

  “I’m glad. I was worried you would despise her; she has done nothing wrong.”

  It seemed like the sun was quite generous today; for some reason, everything seemed a bit prettier under its rays.

  Zarek could not look away.

  A spell.

  It had to be a spell.

  Why else did his world suddenly blur at the edges, his heart stutter in his chest? Why did he feel so unsettled? Why couldn’t he tear his gaze from her, and why did the sunlight make her brown eyes so soft and her skin so striking? His throat tightened, and his body tensed as if preparing for battle.

  He had seen her fall, scream, and cry—he had fought with her for months—and never once had he looked at her this closely.

  She was just a colleague.

  Yet now, now that he noticed, he couldn’t stop.

  Were her lashes always that long? Did she always have that faint dimple in her cheek when she smiled? And her lips…

  With great effort, his gaze flickered downward, trying to pull himself away from the moment, but her image burned into his mind. No matter where he looked, she was all he saw.

  “Zarek?” Hadassah’s voice cut through the haze, her head tilted slightly, concern written on her face. “Are you okay?”

  He blinked, clearing his throat quickly. “Yeah, just… I need to go.” His voice sounded strained, and he forced it to sound normal, casual, as if nothing had shifted inside him.

  She hesitated, her eyes lingering on him for a moment too long, and for a second, he feared she had figured it out—realised what was happening inside him. But then she smiled again, softer this time, and nodded. “Alright.”

  Zarek stood, brushing the dirt off his hands. “I’ll… see you tomorrow,” he said, trying hard to sound as casual as he could manage.

  “Alright.” She didn’t stop him, and for that, he was grateful. If she had looked too closely and seen his face just then, he was sure he’d have no pride left.

  ˋ?-?-?ˊ

  Zarek did not come back for the afternoon session.

  Hadassah didn’t press the issue, assuming he had something important to attend to. Instead, she focused on avoiding the Vortigern siblings. Naturally, Vivian wouldn’t return until she was fully healed. There was no way she’d be able to pass the trial at this rate, and Hadassah knew it. Verena was likely pleased with herself, but Hadassah wasn’t going to let her get away with her actions so easily.

  The day dragged on, and as night approached, Hadassah prepared herself for the heist. She changed her hair, her locs ginger rather than brown, and wrapped herself in black, covering every part of her body except for her eyes, which she lined with ash. Stealing from a place like the Vortigern tree came with significant risks. One of her biggest concerns was whether Lord Vortigern could see and control every part of his tree at all times. If so, how much did he know? Could he sense their every movement?

  These were questions Kaladin could hopefully answer when he arrived.

  He showed up dressed similarly, though his face was not hidden like hers. Instead, he wore his familiar underground mask, the one she had seen him in during previous escapades. He perched himself casually on her window ledge, tossing her the mask he had given her before.

  “Wear this instead,” he instructed.

  She nodded before pulling down the cloth around her face and securing the mask. “What took you so long?” she asked.

  “Can’t really let you walk into unknown territory. I’ve been in the tree multiple times, but even then, I needed to make sure.” His tone was casual, like it was just another routine task.

  “Make sure it’s safe enough to play around in.”

  Hadassah couldn’t decide whether to be angry or not. He considered this playing? She supposed that for someone like him, her actions probably seemed like child’s play. If she left him to steal the pearl alone, it would likely be far easier. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, and for a brief moment, she considered not going at all.

  Kaladin couldn’t see her facial expression behind the mask, but her silence was enough to tell him he had said something wrong.

  “…Tell me everything I need to know.” If he was offering his protection, she had no reason to decline, neither did she want.

  He extended his hand, and she took it. He pulled her up to the window ledge, and they both climbed up to the roof.

  They moved quickly across rooftops, the cool night air whipping against their faces as they leaped from one building to the next. The city below was quiet, most of the inhabitants asleep, unaware of the two figures darting silently above their heads.

  Kaladin made it seem effortless, like he was floating rather than running. Hadassah, meanwhile, kept her focus on maintaining balance and speed, trying not to let her earlier frustration distract her.

  “The tree has quite a few levels, and each is monitored by just Lord Vortigern. Lord Vortigern has control over most of it, but not all.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Explain,” Hadassah said, trying to steady her breathing. She refused to sound breathless next to him.

  “Well, the Vortigern tree was made by the human that reigned here previously—Lord Vortigern’s late mate.”

  Hadassah nodded, already having considered as much.

  “The tree recognises him as its master’s mate, but more importantly, it’s starting to recognise Vivian as her bloodline. It’s just a matter of time before she takes complete control over the Vortigern tree.” Kaladin stopped, jumping up to another level as the building before them seemed to soar in height. He landed gracefully, waiting for her before continuing their run. “Because of that, there are areas Vivian can control. Lord Vortigern doesn’t know she’s controlling them, but he can feel his power weakening. Did you notice the people watching the sparring matches?”

  Hadassah nodded. She’d seen them—wealthy-looking people with dainty fans and heavy jewellery.

  “They’re investors. Lord Vortigern is investing a lot of shells into the tree and into this expedition. Because of that, he can’t afford to show any weakness. So, the places where his control is fading? They’ve just been cut off from any staff. Dead space. Since he can’t control it, he banned anyone from going there altogether. That’s where we’ll be—in those corners where we’re in Vivian’s territory, not Lord Vortigern’s.”

  “So she will know?”

  “But she’ll let us.”

  “Why?” Hadassah asked.

  “Because of you.”

  Almost slipping at his casual revelation, she turned to him baffled. “Don’t you mean because of you? Wouldn’t she want a great general on her side?”

  Kaladin glanced back at her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Do you even know what general means? You seem to use it so casually. Either way, you misunderstand. I’m not someone she can control; she sees you as easy prey.”

  Hadassah frowned, prey? “You might want to rephrase that, or I’ll misunderstand.”

  He laughed as they finally reached the tree. “What’s there to misunderstand?”

  “Do you have a death wish? What kind of guy calls a girl prey?” She rolled her eyes. Kaladin merely stifled his laughter.

  “If you’re not prey, then what are you? Last I checked, you couldn’t even hunt properly.”

  She felt her face heat up. “That was then! I’ve improved! I can kill an annoying brown rabbit now.” She said with a threatening undertone. She knew she couldn’t actually kill Kaladin; not once had he revealed his true abilities, and until now she did not even know his Harbinger title, and he knew that, so he only laughed at her, irritating her to no end.

  Kaladin led the way, scaling the ridiculously large tree with ease. The dense foliage created natural platforms as they climbed, the thick branches allowing them to move quickly, though the height became dizzying the higher they went. Hadassah focused on her footing, her fingers gripping the bark as she climbed just behind him. She hated to admit it, but his physical prowess was honestly stunning, because how on earth did he run up the thing as if it were a flight of stairs?

  She grit her teeth and carried on, and soon they reached their point of entry, an almost hidden alcove covered in thick vines. Kaladin pushed them aside effortlessly, revealing a small window. He let her enter first and then came after her.

  The corridor inside was dark, the air still. Everything felt abandoned, as if this part of the tree had simply been forgotten. There were no guards, no servants bustling about—just silence. In the same vein there was not a spec of dust anywhere.

  “Are we sure she won’t turn on us?” Hadassah whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Kaladin glanced over his shoulder, a smirk curling his lips. “She won’t. Vivian has her own plans, and for now, we’re not part of them.”

  But just as he finished his sentence, the ground shook beneath them. Hadassah turned towards Kaladin, about to ask if he felt that, but suddenly, a thick, wooden wall erupted from the floor between them, slicing through the space like a living barrier. Kaladin’s confident smirk vanished as he stepped back, staring at the wall that now stood between them.

  Hadassah was still staring at the wall, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this situation was. “Vivian won’t betray us, huh?” Hadassah called through the wall as she tried to quiet her laughter. She could barely hear Kaladin’s response; his voice muffled on the other side.

  “Ok, so maybe she might, but stay put. I’ll find a way around.”

  Hadassah merely snickered; she wondered what kind of face he made when that wall erupted. She wished she could see it. She wasn’t planning on staying still; instead, she started moving, hands trailing along the corridor walls, trying to find a path to rejoin Kaladin. But as she navigated the twisting corridors, it became clear that she was being redirected. Hadassah sighed, accepting the fact that Vivian clearly had her own plans, and unfortunately, she was now included in them.

  The air grew warmer, and a faint murmur of voices drifted from somewhere nearby; the sound of music began to fade in, and she could smell the warmth of food and the distinct, sweet scent of nectar. Moving quickly, she slipped into an adjacent room. She took a quick glance around, realising it was an office of sorts, but before she could discern anything in particular, footsteps approached. Forced to hide, she climbed up to a corner of the room and crouched above a large oak bookshelf that hadn’t been dusted in years. The dust tickled her nose, but she tried not to breathe it in, knowing a sneeze could reveal her position.

  Two figures entered the room, and she recognised one of them immediately, Valentino. His smooth and playful voice spoke to a woman who accompanied him. They both looked as if they had just come from a party, with Valentino’s arm lazily slung around the woman’s waist as they entered, clearly oblivious to Hadassah’s presence. Their laughter was slurred, and their footsteps staggered with intoxication.

  “You know how my sister is,” Valentino said with a casual, almost bored tone. “Her decisions are final. If she’s decided that I’m to bed Kaladin’s new student when he’s gone, then I must.” He chuckled nervously, trying to explain himself to her.

  The woman stiffened slightly, jealousy threading through her voice. “You mean that new girl? The brown rabbit? She only showed her face in court once, and now everyone keeps talking like she’s something special. I heard she hasn’t even won a spar.”

  “Don’t worry,” Valentino replied smoothly, pulling the woman closer. “It’s all for show. I won’t like her. I’ll do what’s necessary, but she’s nothing compared to you.”

  The woman scoffed, clearly not satisfied. “Do you think I’ll still want you after you become used goods?”

  He shook his head with a grin. “No, that’s why I want you to mark me today. At least when she mates with me, I won’t be marked by her.”

  The woman seemed to relax, a pleased smile curling on her lips. “Your words get sweeter every time I see you. When she lets you go, my backyard will always have a space for you; my mates are nice. You’ll get along.”

  Their intimate conversation shifted into something more, and Hadassah found herself awkwardly stuck in the room as their moans filled the air. Time dragged on, and she had no choice but to wait until they had finished their business and left. The sound of their footsteps faded as they finally exited.

  When she was certain the coast was clear, Hadassah jumped down. She couldn’t help but find the entire situation amusing. Was this Verena’s grand plan? As if she would ever take Valentino as a mate, especially now that he was already “used goods.” The thought of him begging amused her. At most, she’d send him to the stationery shop clerk as an offer.

  Stepping back into the corridor, she immediately noticed that it had changed again. The hallway was quieter, cooler, and more inviting. The walls looked different, and the music had vanished. Once again, she was somewhere else. Hadassah sighed audibly, her frustration growing.

  “If you want to talk, at least tell me which door to enter.”

  For a moment, nothing happened, but then, the door at the end of the hallway swung open. She had only met Vivian Vortigern once in person, and it seemed like she had finally gotten impatient.

  With an odd sense of calm, Hadassah entered the room, dragging out a wooden chair from the vanity. She sat down with her arms and legs crossed. The room was plain, with only the basics, and at the end of it sat Vivian. Bandages wrapped around her torso and arms, her long black hair falling like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her pale skin and dry lips gave her a pitiful appearance, and yet, she smiled brilliantly, undefeated.

  “My apologies,” Vivian said, her voice weak but sharp. “It took me a while to be in a good position to meet you. I hope you enjoyed my little present?”

  Hadassah hummed thoughtfully, her face impassive. “I was never going to give Valentino a chance, but it didn’t hurt to know. Although I wouldn’t exactly call that information valuable.”

  Vivian let out a dry laugh, as though resigned to Hadassah’s disinterest. “Oh? You underestimate Verena, it seems. But that will be fixed soon enough.”

  “Cut to the chase,” Hadassah said bluntly. “What is it you want?”

  Vivian’s smile widened as if she had been waiting for that question all along. “You already know, don’t you? I want you to support me. I want you to help me become the Vortigern’s Lord.”

  Hadassah’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her hand slowly inching towards the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh. Something about Vivian’s easy confidence rubbed her the wrong way.

  Without warning, she moved. In a flash, Hadassah unsheathed the knife and pressed the cold blade against Vivian’s neck, the sharp edge digging into her skin just enough to draw a line of blood. Her hand was steady, her gaze unwavering.

  “Who’s helping you?” Hadassah demanded, her voice a low, threatening whisper. “Who’s pulling the strings behind the scenes?” Scaring the girl a little should be enough to get her to spill. If Vivian showed even a bit of fear, Hadassah would have released her.

  But there was nothing.

  Her eyes were pitch black, her lips had a lazy smile, and her face remained still.

  Before Hadassah could react, Vivian’s own blade appeared in her hand, pressing just as dangerously against Hadassah’s throat.

  Hadassah’s heart skipped a beat. Vivian was supposed to be injured—bandaged and weak. Hadassah had seen her arm crushed pitifully and had seen her blood mix with mud on the barracks floor.

  But here she sat, perfectly healed, her movements too efficient for someone still in recovery.

  “You’re already healed,” Hadassah said in pleasant surprise; her earlier assumptions had been wrong yet again. Vivian did not let herself eat dust without gaining anything in return, but what Hadassah wanted to know, was what she gained from all this.

  “Impressive observation,” Vivian whispered, her tone teasing. “But don’t think you’re the only one who knows how to fight dirty.”

  Hadassah’s grip on her knife tightened. “Who’s behind all this? You didn’t heal that quickly on your own.” She was curious; she wanted to know what this girl’s plan could possibly be. How could a half-caste girl try and fight on her own? What was the point of the jade hairpins? What was she planning?

  Vivian’s smile didn’t waver, but she made no move to answer. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her blade still pressed against Hadassah’s throat. “It doesn’t matter who’s helping me. What matters is what you’re going to do now. Make me Lord Vortigern.”

  Hadassah scoffed, “I can’t possibly do that.” Did Vivian think she was some sort of god? That she could simply make her the head of her family?

  “Oh, but you can,” Vivian countered. She withdrew her blade, but kept her gaze locked with Hadassah’s. “You know human artefacts better than most. I have seen you fight with them. If you try, you’ll find a way for me to control the Vortigern tree fully. And that’s all I need you to do.”

  Hadassah sheathed her knife, but she didn’t lower her guard. “You’re really persistent; I’ll give you that. But just because I understand artefacts doesn’t mean I’m willing to help you.”

  Vivian chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down Hadassah’s spine. “Eventually, Hadassah, you’ll hate Verena enough that you’ll want to see me win.”

  Hadassah’s brows furrowed, confused by Vivian’s. “What does that even mean?”

  Vivian offered no explanation. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Her voice softened, almost gentle. “Kaladin is waiting for you outside. Carry on with your business; I will not interrupt you any more.”

  Hadassah took a step back, at a loss for what had just happened. Her, figure out how to take over the Vortigern tree? Did Vivian think she had unlimited knowledge of obscure artefacts? She couldn’t even stabilise her Wyre, and yet… yet she wanted to help Vivian.

  She had to admit, at any moment things could have gone horribly wrong, but in their entire exchange, Vivian hadn’t put her in harm’s way unless in self-defence. There was something strangely genuine in Vivian’s actions—whether it was goodwill or simply a calculated move, Hadassah couldn’t tell. Still, because Vivian was a half-caste, Hadassah felt compelled to help her.

  In Emerian, there was no word for half-caste.

  But for her own safety, she knew she had to ask Kaladin first.

  “Here.” Hadassah took out the jade hairpin from her hair, and the ginger was gone in an instant, replaced with dark brown. She tossed it to Vivian who caught it. “I don’t know why you need this thing, but I’m interested in seeing it play out.” Hadassah turned her back to Vivian and exited the room. Just as Vivian had said, Kaladin was nearby, walking past her as if he had been searching. He stopped abruptly when he spotted her standing near a plain wall, as if she had simply appeared out of nowhere.

  “So, asking you to stay put was pretty useless,” he said dryly.

  Hadassah raised a brow. “You think?”

  Kaladin took her hand, checking her pulse, his eyes scanning her for any signs of distress. “It’s good you’re alive. Did she want to see you?”

  Hadassah nodded. “She had a request for me.” The look in her eyes told Kaladin enough.

  “And did you agree?”

  “…Should I?” she asked hesitantly. She wasn’t confident in her ability to navigate political schemes. If she agreed to help Vivian, could she truly protect herself?

  Kaladin’s gaze softened. “Do what you want.”

  He offered no help; she supposed, to him it didn’t really matter. After all he was a ‘general’ of the dragon queen. But somehow, his absurd confidence gave her the reassurance she needed. Kaladin was always this way; always confident, and she had to admit, her heart had grown fond of him.

  “Then, I’ll help her,” she said, her resolve solidifying. It was better to align with Vivian than Verena. At least Vivian would owe her a debt, and that could be useful in the future. “But I still want the deep sea pearl. I don’t think she needs it, but it doesn’t hurt to have something that spectacular.”

  Kaladin’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Anything for you, princess.”

  Hadassah paused, realising he had called her ‘princess’ before. She wondered if he genuinely saw her as a spoilt little girl. But in the end, it didn’t bother her. Free shells and a free deep sea pearl—she couldn’t complain.

  Kaladin watched her roll her eyes, and his smile stretched wider before he dropped the next bomb. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving for a few weeks.”

  “…What?”

  Kaladin saw her face drop momentarily, and his heart felt unexpectedly light. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back. I just didn’t want you to wake up and not see me. If you want to help Vivian, I think you should avoid the afternoon classes until I return. Someone else will be taking over the training.”

  Hadassah fell quiet. She didn’t want him to go, but who was she to stop him? “Are you going to visit your human?”

  He nodded.

  ‘Right. He’s a Harbinger; he has his own loyalties.’

  “For any particular reason?” she pressed.

  “Something interesting happened in Nerissa.”

  “Nerissa?” She recognised the name—the kingdom of the eastern seas.

  “Well,” Kaladin continued, “one of the mer-princes decided it was a good idea to commit patricide, so it’s caused some production issues for us. My human isn’t happy about it.”

  The way he referred to her as ‘my human’ rather than by name made Hadassah feel… happy? But then the mention of ‘mer prince’ replaced her happiness with caution, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Wait, which mer-prince?”

  Kaladin hummed, deep in thought. “Hmm, his name is Caelestis.”

  ‘Huh.’

  She did not know how to feel, but her expression made Kaladin ask, “Are you intrigued or are you disgusted? I can’t tell.”

  “I really don’t know.”

  That soft, dancer merman killed his father?

  ‘Huh.’