Fidelity in Mirage 1

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A tall, stout man hobbled through the busy streets of Porto Jamon. The earlier commotion had now ceased, and everyone was going about their normal day.

He finally stopped at a fruit cart. The woman by the cart had a red silk scarf covering her face, but her disappointment was still evident.

She handed him a ragged paper purse dismissively.

The transaction was quiet—for a while. The man looked through the contents of the purse and then up at her, disgruntled, though he did his best to hide his discontent.

"This was not what we agreed on," he finally said, still caressing the bag as if its contents would multiply.

"Really? It's almost as if we aren't acting according to our agreement," she replied in mock wonder.

The man looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I know this was not the result you wanted, but it's not my fault. I did what I was asked to do—I fed the horses with locoweed and risked my life."

"Yes, but she's still alive. I work with results, not effort, and I believe I've been more than generous. I've fully compensated you for your horses and the carriage... or do you think I cheated you?"

He shook his head nervously. "I'm eternally grateful. It's just that I really needed the money. How about I try again? I won't fail this time—"

"Don't be stupid. Even an imbecile would suspect carriage accidents occurring twice in a row."

And with Awin basically hunting for them, I don't have to work as hard on eliminating Mahalia, Melinda thought to herself.

She looked up at the man, a mischievous atmosphere enveloping them. "Well, you still have a chance to earn the money."

"Really?"

"Can you help me find someone?" Melinda asked, a dangerous smile playing on her lips.

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ROAD OUT OF PORTO JAMON – COMMONER DISTRICT

The drover's cart jounced and rattled over the cobblestone.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp hay, dung, and the bleating of restless sheep and swine.

Qaya groaned and pinched her nose. "Really? This was the best we could get? We'll have to endure this for two more hours."

Zachary rolled his eyes as he gently brushed aside a curious pig. "Apologies, Your Highness, but renting a royal carriage wasn't an option, considering our... delicate situation."

Qaya's gaze turned icy, her eyes narrowing at Zachary's wry tone.

Rivan cleared his throat, trying to lighten the stiff atmosphere. "WHY are we going to Citë? Citë isn't exactly the fugitive go-to."

"Exactly," Qaya perked up. "I thought you, of all people, would have guessed why. It's hiding in plain sight. They'll expect us to go to some secluded place to lay low."

Jaslin chuckled knowingly. She knew why they were actually going to Citë. After all, her cousin only had one motive for coming to Porto Jamon, and she wasn't going to lose sight of her aim.

She pulled Qaya closer and whispered, "Tell me the actual reason we're going to Citë."

"I want to find the Heretic," Qaya whispered back.

"What?" Jaslin whisper-screamed, but before she could scold Qaya, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"What's going on?" Qaya muttered, her heart beating fast in her chest.

They all fell silent. It seemed they had reached a checkpoint.

The voices of soldiers and the cart's owner could be heard—they were talking about an inspection.

It's over. These words rang violently in Qaya's head as the men came closer, now audible.

Jaslin turned to her cousin. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

Rivan and Zachary also turned their attention to the girls. Qaya was hyperventilating, struggling to catch her breath. Her gasps were growing louder.

"I'd say your carriage is too shaky," one of the soldiers remarked, placing his hand on the wall of the cart.

"Sir, that's because there are live animals in there," the cart owner replied innocently.

"Still, I have to inspect it—standard procedure and all."

At that moment, Qaya collapsed with a loud thud. Zachary hurried to her side.

"What's wrong? You'll get us caught," he whispered urgently.

"This movement is too much for just a bunch of animals. What exactly are you moving?" The soldier's voice grew suspicious.

Qaya's eyes widened in terror as her breath caught in her throat.

"We're going to get caught... sent back to Easteford... trapped in a marriage with that monster..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as she envisioned the nightmare scenario.

Zachary clenched his jaw, watching the great mental strain overtaking Qaya. He pulled her into a reassuring hug.

"It's okay. You're not alone."

"Open the cart now!" the soldier outside thundered.

Qaya, now slightly calmer, whispered, "I'm sorry. We're going to get caught because of my tantrum."

Zachary, his arms still around her, rasped softly, "It's okay."

The sound of the lock being unfastened echoed through the cart. The animals panicked, rushing toward the door in anticipation.

Just as the door was about to open, a third voice interrupted.

"What disrespect!"

"Who are you?" the soldier snapped, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

The stranger presented an identification token. "I'm the head messenger of the Jamon house. The cart you're delaying is one Lady Jamon is expecting."

The soldier stuttered, "Lady Jamon? As in the Jamon of Porto Jamon?"

"Is there another Jamon?" the messenger replied, his voice dripping with disdain.

"My apologies. You can pass through."

The four inside the cart collectively let out a sigh of relief. It was then that Qaya noticed she was still holding on to Zachary.

"My apologies," she murmured, pulling away from him.

"Are you okay?" Jaslin asked, rubbing Qaya's palm affectionately.

Qaya nodded sheepishly.

Jaslin's voice was filled with concern as she reached out again. "Hey, cuz, what's going on? You were really scared back there."

Qaya smiled weakly, still shaken. "I'm just... really grateful we made it through that."

Jaslin's expression softened. "We're in this together, Qaya. Whatever you're searching for, I'm here to support you."

Qaya smiled. "I might not sound like it, but I'm so grateful for that." She leaned on Jaslin.

The tension slowly ebbed away as the cart rumbled back into motion, its wheels creaking softly against the cobblestone, now a comforting rhythm rather than a harbinger of doom. The air inside was lighter, filled with the quiet relief of hearts that had brushed too close to danger. Jaslin hummed a soft tune under her breath, Rivan leaned back with his hands tucked behind his head, and even Zachary allowed himself a rare, fleeting smile. Qaya rested her head against the wooden wall, her heartbeat finally slowing, wrapped in the warmth of her cousin's quiet support. But beyond the fragile calm, the world did not rest. Far ahead, the road to Citë twisted into shadows unknown, where watchful eyes lingered, and whispered fates stirred with the restless wind. The storm had not passed—it had only begun to gather.

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To be continued