The next day I did not leave my room.
The air felt hushed, as if Blake's Winds, usually sharp and alive, had chosen to whisper among themselves somewhere in a corner, slipping cautiously through the cracks in the walls only to check whether I was still in place.
Their presence was not as vivid, but it did not leave me either, like a faint echo of someone's care or surveillance.
My appetite vanished along with the desire to speak.
For the second day in a row, I drank only water and and slowly broke tangerines into segments. The tart scent of citrus was the only thing that still felt alive.
By evening, the lights beyond the outer wall bloomed with festive glimmers, cheerful, as if they belonged to someone else.
I stared at them for a long time, silently, until I made a decision.
If sorrow is rust, then perhaps sleep might at least scrub some of it from my heart.
On the third day of the festival, I had cooled off a little.
As soon as I heard that Blake had left the guest quarters, I immediately decided to go down for lunch with Ada.
But the moment I opened the door, two sword-bearers rose up before me on the threshold.
They said nothing, but their gazes made it clear I was under watch.
"I'm going to the kitchen, I'll eat and come back," I said curtly, trying to lend confidence to my voice.
Without waiting for a response, I slipped past them and quickly began to descend the stairs.
They said nothing.
They simply followed, soundless as shadows.
Yet they made no attempt to stop me.
I was going down, but still, instinctively, I searched for Blake, whether ahead or behind.
As if any second now, he would lift me with his winds and carry me back to the room.
Without a word.
Without explanation.
Without looking toward the street, glancing only at the turns of the staircase, I darted into the kitchen and almost at once I saw Ada.
She was quietly clearing the table, and on the brazier only one pot remained.
The moment she noticed me, her face lit up.
"You actually came down to eat?" she said with a smile, pulling out a plate and a spoon.
"Come in, I made a delicious chicken soup."
Her gaze slid toward the two swordsmen who had followed me inside.
"They're with me," I said, noticing the distrust in her eyes.
It suddenly brought back all the strange memories connected to sword-bearers in the kitchen.
They seemed to displace the warmth that had once lived there.
"Yesterday, some kids from the academy were asking after you. They were hanging around the gates. I told them you had a lot to do inside the castle, and then they left," Ada said as she carefully set the table for me.
She brought out freshly baked bread, set the soup beside it, and added something else as well, though one dish would have been more than enough.
On days like this, when the entire city celebrated, she wasn't obligated to cook at all.
Usually, Ada only prepared meals for the senior generals and those who lived in this wing.
The others dined in the common hall.
But still, she had made all this just for me.
And it touched me more than I could ever admit aloud.
"Are you alright?" she asked, with her familiar care.
"Yes," I replied, just as familiarly.
"Nothing new has happened, I've just lost my appetite."
I pulled a tangerine from the pocket of my brown cloak and placed it in front of her.
"This is for you. I thought you might like it."
Ada stared at the fruit in surprise, her eyes widening.
She took the tangerine at once, as if she didn't believe it was real.
"Where did you get this?" she exclaimed.
"Blake bought it," I said, not hiding the truth.
"That's wonderful. Thank you so much," she whispered, lifting the tangerine to her face.
She breathed in the aroma through the peel with a look of almost childlike delight.
"And you're really giving it to me? Did you eat something yourself? It's a rarity."
"It's fine, go ahead and eat. I've had enough," I reassured her and sat down at the table, starting on her, as always, superb soup.
"Would you like some tea?" she asked once I had nearly finished.
"Depends on what kind of tea," I smirked, alluding to the recent peculiarities.
"I have the best and most genuine tea. I stake my head on it," Ada declared and shot a defiant glance directly at one of the sword-bearers still standing by the wall.
"Well, in that case, I wouldn't say no," I replied with a smile.
Her warmth, simple and sincere, made me feel alive again.
We sat at the table drinking hot tea, while Ada excitedly told me how, just yesterday at the festival, she nearly got into an argument with a vendor of ready-made meat.
She was outraged. There was barely any spice, no sunlit flavor at all, and the meat tasted simply warm and greasy. Not festive in the least.
She spoke of it with such seriousness, as if the quality of that meat were a matter of her personal honor.
According to her, he had no right to sell it in that state, especially not on the main street.
Ada had always been meticulous about details, especially when it came to food.
I smiled, and then I laughed outright as she recounted her verbal duel with the vendor.
There was such genuine passion in her voice.
But suddenly, I felt his winds.
I was already subconsciously bracing for him to burst into the kitchen and order me back to the room at once.
But it didn't happen.
After finishing my tea and listening to the end of the meat skirmish, I noticed how Ada gently shifted to another topic.
"I'm going to the city. They're promising lots of musicians today. Will you join me?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
"I think I have other things to do, unfortunately. But next time, I'll definitely come with you, and we'll try all the meat at the festival," I replied with a soft smile, trying not to reveal the sorrow stuck in my chest.
"Go then, I'll tidy up here," she said, beginning to escort me along with the two sword-bearers.
But the moment I stepped past the threshold, I froze.
He stood directly across from the door.
Leaning against the wall, silent, as if he had been waiting there for some time.
And as soon as I stepped out, Blake came straight toward me.
The two soldiers saluted him and then stood, taut and silent, on either side of me.
He, however, paid them no mind.
There was no anger in his face, no fury, and that was a good sign.
He wore his usual magical uniform, something between armor and ceremonial dress.
A black jacket, lightly dusted with mana diamonds, fit his figure closely.
His hair was neatly styled according to military regulation, each side trimmed evenly and strictly.
Clean hands. Shining boots. The perfect image of military bearing.
But what he did next made me tense.
He took my hand, gently and firmly, and brought it to his lips.
His kiss touched the tips of my fingers with such cautious tenderness, as if I were something fragile.
He kissed my hand and did not look away.
I began to blush, but I didn't pull my hand back.
My cheeks grew warm.
"Please, return to your room," he whispered, his lips almost brushing my fingers.
And my heart stopped.
From his gentleness, from that barely-there touch.
I instantly pulled my hand away and took a step back.
He looked at me questioningly.
I stepped back again, until my back pressed against the kitchen door.
Could this be another fake?
Embarrassment quickly turned into unease.
Something felt off. Too soft. Too delicate. Almost implausiblel.
"Bian?" he called, and I felt the winds gently wrap around my waist.
His finger glowed faintly with that familiar magical shimmer.
It was him. I exhaled with relief, but only inwardly.
I had never told him about the false Blake.
Say that out loud, and goodbye to the light of day.
"All right," I replied calmly, taking a step toward him.
"Roger will arrive soon. It will make your movements easier."
In the doorway leading to the street, Adel appeared.
She wore a uniform just like Blake's, only the feminine version.
They looked like a pair. Perfectly coordinated, composed, from the same world.
I lowered my eyes and shoved all the bitterness deep inside.
Without a word, I walked past and began climbing the stairs.
But his winds didn't leave me, not until I reached the door to my room.
It was as if they accompanied me to make sure I arrived where I was supposed to.
When I touched the doorknob, the bitterness broke through.
It made the wood heavier. The step harder than I wanted to admit.
The fragrant scent of many flowers swept across my face the moment I opened the door.
Throughout the sitting room, vases of all kinds of flowers were arranged.
On the tea and guest table lay food I recognized from the stalls of the festival streets.
And on the guest table lay books and trinkets.
A beautiful necklace of white stones reminded me of Blake's eye color, and a bracelet on a leather strap with a golden pendant shaped like the Moon, his personal symbol.
And beside it, a large heap of tangerines.
Twice as many as he had bought us last time.
I heard music very nearby and realized the window had been left slightly open.
Right near the castle's inner walls, musicians were playing.
They sang a beautiful, melodic song, a tale of love.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Had he prepared all this for me?
And that kiss of his.
It was nothing like him.
I sat down on the sofa and began to look around. The items, the food, the details that had appeared in the room.
My gaze slid across the books, and I was surprised. They weren't about magic, as I had expected.
"Feller's Traveler's Notes", "How to Tame a General" — apparently a romance novel, and "Nighttime Scary Tales", which looked more like a collection of fairy stories.
He'd been listening more closely than I realized.
Inside, I let my feelings go.
For the first time in all this time.
I was happy.
I sat on the windowsill and listened to the beautiful singing of the musicians from the street.
Toward evening, the music turned lively and spirited, and I could even hear people singing along with the performers.
If I closed my eyes, it felt as though I were there, among them.
I tasted all the food on the table, sniffed all the flowers in the vases, and, pulling out several blossoms, wove a wreath for Blake.
Almost like the one Lily had once woven for me.
I needed to thank him.
I would wait for his return.
The thought sparked a small flame of anticipation in my chest.
But then the midnight bell rang.
The music faded, audible now only from afar.
And Blake still had not come.
Was he really not coming back tonight?
But what could have happened to keep him away?
He was only just with—
Then I jumped to my feet and rushed into his room, to the dresser.
Opening drawer after drawer, I found no extra mana belt.
Was he on a mission or on duty?
But why didn't he say?
Why...
The bitterness surged back to my throat.
As if he had deliberately softened me, just to be sure I wouldn't run away while he was busy.
I wanted to be angry. But I couldn't.
He had been so gentle today, so attentive.
Even if all this had been done just to keep me in the room, I surrendered to it.
I picked up the novel he had left, "About the General", and, settling into his bed, began to read.
I would wait for him.
No matter what.
...