Chapter 14

The next two weeks had passed in a haze of ink-stained fingers, candle-lit study sessions, and the occasional bout of despair. Now, at last, the exams were behind them, and the group found themselves in the inner courtyard of the Journeyman Inn, reveling in their newfound freedom.

The amber glow of the setting sun stretched long shadows across the worn wooden tables. Ivy clung to the courtyard's stone walls, swaying lazily in the late-spring breeze, while the scent of blooming jasmine mingled with the evening air . Laughter and murmured conversations wove through the air, a contrast to the hushed intensity that had gripped them all for weeks.

Around one of the tables, five mugs of amber ale sat in varying states of depletion, mirroring the exhaustion of their owners.

"If I never have to take another damned test, it'll be too soon," Simon muttered, rubbing his temples as if the sheer weight of knowledge had left him physically sore.

Niamh smirked teasingly at her husband, nudging his shoulder. "What? I thought you lived for these exams?"

"My love, you know full well that I live only for you and our girls," Simon returned, lifting her hand to his lips with a smile before adding, "And my forge."

Kaleth chuckled, leaning back on the bench with an easy grace, his long, fiery-red hair catching the golden light. "Beautiful sentiment, Simon. Really."

Simon shot the red headed man a withering look.

Amriel smiled into her drink, the warmth of the ale spreading through her like the quiet satisfaction of making it through something grueling but worthwhile.

"So," Mara interjected, setting down her nearly untouched beer with deliberate precision. "Now that we're officially free men and women, what's next?"

"Freedom is a strong word," Niamh mused with a smile, "Simon and I will be taking the twins to visit my parents for a while. They haven't seen them since they were still in swaddling blankets."

Simon lifted his head just enough to grumble, "Which means I'll be spending the next few months repairing every broken fence, door, and tool in their entire village."

"I believe that's what we call an even trade," Amriel said, lips twitching in amusement.

"That's all good and well. Enjoy your obligatory family dinners and baby diapers," Kaleth said leaned back, swirling his nearly empty drink. "Personally, I plan to travel. See the world. Charm my way through every tavern from here to the far reaches of the kingdom. Possibly beyond." He shot Amriel a wink. "Maybe even become a legend."

Amriel rolled her eyes, and took another sip.

It was the first evening in weeks that wasn't filled with frantic studying, and yet, Amriel found her mind anything but at ease.

"You mean a cautionary tale?" Mara quipped, arching a brow as she took a slow sip from her cup.

Kaleth pressed a hand to his heart in mock offense. "You wound me."

Mara shook her head, the barest hint of a smile curving her lips. "Well, while you're off causing international incidents, I'll be staying at the Academy for a while longer. The Head Master Archivist himself requested my addition to their ranks."

A round of knowing chuckles passed through the group.

"And that, folks, may be the least surprising announcement of the century," Kaleth drawled, tilting his head toward her with an easy grin. He lifted his glass in her direction. "But of course he did, Mara. The man would have been a fool to do otherwise."

A chorus of agreement followed, punctuated by a louder, more resounding toast.

"To Mara," Kaleth declared, clinking his beer against hers, "while the rest of us are escaping, you're voluntarily chaining yourself to more books. We thank you for your noble sacrifice."

Mara gave him a flat look, but there was something warm in the way her golden-brown eyes glimmered in the firelight. "It's called ambition, Kaleth. You should try it sometime."

"I thought I was ambitious." He smirked playfully. "Just in a different way."

Their banter wove effortlessly into the conversation, familiar and rhythmic. It was grounding, in a way. Yet Amriel found herself drifting, absorbing the moment but untethered from it at the same time.

The past two weeks had been relentless—final exams, essays, sparring evaluations. It left little room for distractions, which was fortunate, considering the ones weighing on her mind. The injured man, the tome, the prophecy carved into her thoughts like a brand.

Not an hour passed without the words repeating themselves in her head, as if waiting for her to make sense of them. She had scoured the library, turning pages until her fingers ached, seeking even the faintest whisper of Starlight Witches, silver fire, or a door to eternity. But it was as if they had been erased from history entirely. If Mara hadn't even heard of them, what hope did she have of finding answers alone?

Her grip tightened around her mug. Now that she had exhausted this avenue, what came next? Who could she tell? Who should she tell?

"So, what about you, Riel?" Kaleth's voice cut through her thoughts, light but curious. "What's next for you?"

Amriel hesitated. She could feel Simon's gaze flicker toward her, measuring. He always noticed more than he let on. She forced an easy smile and shrugged. "Oh, you know me. I could never leave the Vhengal."

Simon studied her for a moment longer, then nodded as if he understood something unsaid.

"Well," he said, raising his mug, "to all of us, then. To whatever comes next."

The others followed suit, their glasses meeting with a quiet clink. The sound lingered for a breath, then melted into the night—the rustling of ivy, the distant hum of conversation, and the laughter of other graduates stepping into the unknown.

The willow branches swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, their long tendrils casting shifting shadows across the soft grass. The pond shimmered under the dappled sunlight, rippling as dragonflies skimmed its surface. A chorus of laughter rang out from the field beyond, high and bright, as Simon scooped up one of the girls and tossed her into the air. She shrieked, delighted, before he caught her easily in his strong arms, twirling her once before setting her down to chase her sister.

Niamh, stretched out beside Amriel on the picnic blanket, sighed dramatically. "Gods, I never thought I'd say this, Amriel," she mused, gaze fixed on the scene before them, "but is there anything sexier than a man who adores his children?"

Amriel smirked, tearing off a piece of her sandwich. "I'll have to take your word for it."

Niamh turned her head, arching a brow. "Perhaps you'll understand one day. But don't rush it."

Amriel let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I don't think that's in the cards for me anytime soon."

She meant it. But still, some days, she wondered. It wasn't longing exactly—not in the way Niamh had felt it, an aching certainty that had led her to Simon, to this life of playful chaos and quiet devotion. But there was something about watching them that made Amriel pause. She wasn't an outsider here, not truly. Simon and Niamh had folded her into their little world effortlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And she was grateful for it.

But that didn't stop her from wondering what it would feel like to have something of her own. A partner. A family. Someone waiting for her at the end of the day, someone whose life was tangled with hers in a way that felt unshakable.

That used to seem inevitable. But now? Now, after the tome and the prophecy buried within its pages, the future felt like an unread book—one she wasn't sure she wanted to open.

Niamh must have sensed the shift in her mood because she nudged Amriel's knee with her own. "You thinking too much again?"

Amriel exhaled, forcing a small smile. "Maybe."

Niamh tilted her head, studying her. "About?"

Amriel hesitated. She could brush it off, change the subject. But this was Niamh. If anyone deserved honesty, it was her.

"I guess I just… don't know what my future is supposed to look like anymore." She gestured vaguely toward the field, where Simon had hoisted one of the girls onto his shoulders, her laughter ringing clear in the open air. "There was a time I thought it would be something like this. Not this exactly, but… a version of it. A life built with someone."

Niamh's expression softened. "And now?"

"Now…" Amriel trailed off, shaking her head. "Now I'm not so sure."

Niamh was quiet for a moment, watching her carefully. Then she sat up, hugging one knee to her chest. "Talk to me, Riel."

Amriel hesitated. She could brush it off—say something lighthearted and easy, something that wouldn't make Niamh worry. But that wasn't the kind of friendship they had.

She sat up, brushing crumbs from her fingers. "I think it's time to go see Kortana."

Niamh's expression tightened, the teasing edge in her usual smirk fading. "About the book, right?"

Amriel nodded, "I've looked Niamh, I've searched the library. I've asked Mara. I've exhausted the 'safe' options. And still, nothing. Absolutely nothing."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Niamh hummed softly, considering, but didn't argue. Instead, she flopped back onto the blanket, stretching lazily with feigned indifference. "Fine. But you're taking me with you."

Amriel frowned. Before she could object, Simon's voice cut in, deep and good-natured as he strolled back toward them, the twins hooked under each arm, giggling like fiends.

"Taking you where?" he asked, brows lifting as he gently lowered the girls onto the blanket.

Niamh tilted her head up at him, grinning. "To the Witches' Coven. We're going to talk to Kortana."

Simon didn't react immediately. Instead, he crouched down, deftly pulling their lunch from the basket and handing out bits of fruit to the girls, who busied themselves with their meal. Then, finally, he looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Amriel's. "About?"

"Just some questions I have about an old book," she said evenly.

Simon's hands stilled for just a fraction of a second before he continued unpacking their meal. "An old book," he repeated, tone unreadable. "Shouldn't you be asking the Archivists about that?"

"They'll be my next stop," Amriel admitted, keeping her voice light. "But Kortana was my mother's friend. She might be more open with me about the subject."

Simon frowned, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why do I feel like I'm not getting the whole story here?"

Niamh sighed, reaching out to run a hand down her husband's forearm, her touch as much reassurance as it was distraction. "My love, do not worry so much," she said smoothly. "It'll just be a quick trip for some quick answers. We'll be back before dinner."

"Today?" Simon's head snapped up, his brow furrowing. "You're doing this today?"

"We are," Niamh confirmed, plucking a piece of cheese from the basket.

Simon's frown deepened. "Perhaps I should join you. Mom would be more than happy to watch the girls until we get back."

Before Niamh could answer, Amriel cut in. "No need, Simon." Her tone was firm, leaving little room for argument. "A visit to Kortana is perfectly safe. I trust her."

"It's not Kortana I'm worried about," Simon said distractedly, gently swiping a bug away from Ava's curious fingers before she could pop it into her mouth. His voice lowered slightly. "It's the walk home in the evening. The city is getting less safe by the day."

"You walk home at night all the time," Niamh pointed out, arching a brow.

"Yes, I do, Niamh," Simon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But I'm a big man with a big hammer. That's not exactly the same as two women without any formal training in arms."

Niamh scoffed, offended. "That's not true, and you know it. Amriel has her daggers, and I can shoot a moving rabbit through the eye at a hundred paces."

Simon snorted, lips quirking into a wry smile. "Yes, my love, I don't know sounds more lethal indeed. Short armed hand to hand combat," He said, referring to Amriel's smaller stature, "Or an archer in a close-quarters brawl."

Both women shot him a withering look.

Simon exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine. Go. But promise me you'll leave the city before dark."

Niamh grinned triumphantly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Consider it a deal, my love."

Simon sighed again, but a smile tugged at his lips despite himself. "Gods help me," he murmured.

Amriel watched them, something bittersweet settling in her chest again. They made it look so easy—this steady, unwavering partnership. The teasing, the concern, the way they just… fit.

She forced the thought aside. Now wasn't the time for wistfulness.

Now was the time for answers.