Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)
Chapter 21

Fennrin had spoken to the crowd, and shockingly enough they seemed to have actually listened to him because they did disperse afterward. But it was probably mostly Daryan’s speech he’d given before that convinced them.

It had been very difficult to say anything, though. Not with Ain watching the entire time. Fennrin sighed. He hadn’t been very fair to him, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated with him. He’d not expected his emotions to get the better of him the way they had, but it was done and over with now.

And Fennrin couldn’t say he regretted it that much. It had felt good to tell Ain exactly what he was feeling for once. He did feel guilty for it, but he wouldn’t take any of it back.

Now that everyone was leaving, so was Ainreth, it seemed. Fennrin had sort of expected him to try to talk to him again, but watching him head down the road leading to their house, Fennrin supposed that this would not be the case.

Ainreth’s house. Not theirs, Fennrin corrected himself. It had never been their house, if he was to be honest with himself.

His insides twisted. He hoped that wasn’t a large part of why Ain liked him. Fennrin had come here not knowing anyone and having no resources of his own, which Ain had helped with. But they’d started butting heads only after Fennrin had gained some agency of his own.

No, he refused to continue that thought. It was wrong.

“You did wonderfully,” Daryan told him, squeezing his shoulder. Somehow that always seemed to calm Fennrin down. “I told you the people would listen to you.”

Fennrin grimaced as he tried to recall what he’d actually said. It was barely in his mind somehow since he’d spoken on the spot, having forgotten what he’d planned on saying the moment he was standing in front of all these people.

But they had seemed to like it, comforted by his words. As long as he could help somehow. He needed to be useful since Daryan bothered bringing him here with him and the Bulwark.

“I hope we manage to deal with this,” Fennrin said, sighing. He was very tired after traveling here, but he tried not to show it.

“Of course we will,” Daryan said, keeping his hand on Fennrin’s shoulder as he began leading him into the palace. “I saw you talking to Ainreth.”

Fennrin grimaced, but nodded. But before he could try to defend himself, Daryan spoke again, a kind smile on his face.

“It is none of my business, I know. I simply wanted to make sure you are okay.”

“Oh.” Fennrin blinked. Daryan always seemed to surprise him. “Yes, I’m fine.” At least he could pretend he was. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything they’d said to each other. All the hurt he’d thrown at Ainreth, and all the hurt he felt.

“Oh, but he did say the reason he is helping the protesters was to get me back here,” Fennrin said, sighing. “Maybe he will stop now?”

Daryan shook his head, annoyance in his eyes as he kept walking. “Of course he would do it for that.”

Fennrin frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Daryan’s shoulders sank a little. “Ainreth is a very selfish person. But I don’t wish to complain about him, least of all to you. It is simply not surprising to me that this would be the motivation behind his actions.” He hummed. “Do you think, then, that he will now stop?”

Fennrin shrugged. He had no idea. “I think he wants to spite you as well. So likely not.”

“That would make sense.” Daryan nodded, still looking a little irritated, but less than Fennrin would have expected given the situation. “He does hate me.”

Fennrin found it easy to resist the temptation to once again remind him that there was a good reason Ainreth hated him, but he didn’t particularly want to defend Ain right now.

“With all due respect,” Fenn said, but before he could continue, Daryan chuckled, stopping in the middle of the corridor to look Fenn in the eye directly, letting go of his shoulder.

“Please, my dear, none of that. Say what you wish. Don’t treat me as your superior. I am not one. I promise I will respect your opinion.”

Fennrin’s heart fluttered a little. It felt so good to hear someone say that, especially someone like the High Herald. Fennrin suspected the man was simply humoring him, but it was a nice sentiment.

“Very well.” Fennrin nodded, smiling slightly, despite his bad mood. “Ain brought up a good question when we were talking. Why don’t we simply send covert operatives to disrupt whatever experiments the queen is doing?”

Daryan nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have thought of this. It would not fix our problem, though. The only way to ensure safety for Lys-Akkaria is to siege Diramisk. Search it thoroughly. Find everyone involved. Make sure this will never be a threat again.”

Fennrin nodded. That made sense to him. He didn’t know much, but he was fairly certain that to make sure they had all the information required, it would take spies months. And it might be too late by then.

“I’ve considered the options. I’ve discussed them with Tysalin. This is the best way forward. And with your help, there will be relatively few casualties. At least on our side,” Daryan said, smiling at him. “I am very proud of how you handled yourself on the battlefield during the latest battle. Truly impressive.”

Fennrin blushed a little, avoiding Daryan’s gaze. “I just…did what I could to stop Orinovo. I wanted to avoid as many casualties as possible.”

Daryan nodded, smiling at him. “And you did. Well done.”

Before Fennrin can reply, someone runs to them.

“Daryan, you’ve returned,” the woman said in relief, straightening her glasses. Daryan smiled at her.

“For now, yes. Hello, Mhalyn. I apologize for making you deal with this.”

Oh, this was Daryan’s Apprentice. Now Fennrin remembered. Daryan had mentioned a Mhalyn temporarily taking on his responsibilities while he’s away. Fennrin didn’t actually understand the politics of all of this that well.

Mhalyn shook her head, looking very relieved. Which was fair, Fennrin thought. He couldn’t imagine even temporarily doing Daryan’s work for him. He did so much to keep the country functioning well enough. Fennrin would lose his mind.

“I am simply happy you are back. I’m sorry I couldn’t handle this on my own,” she said, sighing, her head waving left and right slightly in what Fennrin belatedly realized must have been a tic.

“It is a very difficult situation,” Daryan said, nodding. “I should have returned sooner, I apologize. I heard what you’ve done to try to negotiate with the protesters. I could have hardly asked for more.” Daryan patted her shoulder, which visibly relaxed Mhalyn further.

“Do not feel bad about the negotiation not working out,” he continued. “Ainreth is impossible to negotiate with once he’s set his mind on something.”

Mhalyn nodded, blushing a little in embarrassment when she looked at Fennrin. “Oh, sorry, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mhalyn Fyr-Viran, the Court Apprentice to the High Herald.”

Fennrin nodded at her. “Yes, I know. I’m—”

“Fennrin, the Nightrazer, yes,” Mhalyn smiled, studying him with big, awe-filled eyes. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you. You are dressed…” she paused to look him over, making Fennrin fidget a little, “much more normal than I expected.”

Fennrin frowned, looking down at himself, “What do you mean?”

Mhalyn smiled shily. “Well, have you seen the Daybreaker? He always has something with the sun on it on at all times.”

Fennrin groaned a little, nodding. He really didn’t want to talk about Ain right now. “Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Mhalyn, I would hate to be rude, but Fenn here is quite tired after the journey here. As am I. Can we discuss everything later?”

Mhalyn blushed again, grimacing, clearly embarrassed. “O-oh. Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ll leave you to that, then.”

She then waved and disappeared down the hallway, leaving them alone again. Daryan had a small, fond smile on his face.

“She is a very promising young woman. A little awkward and lacking in confidence, certainly, but wonderful with the people. She cares very much. She will make a fine Herald one day, if the people choose her.”

Fennrin blinked at that, not having expected so much praise for the simple reason that Daryan hadn’t talked about Mhalyn much. “You…want her to take over?”

Daryan smiled, shrugging. “That is the point of the Apprentices. Well, that and being our assistants.”

Fennrin nodded, looking away, feeling a little ashamed of his ignorance. “I don’t know much about politics.”

“No one does, my dear,” Daryan said, chuckling. “And those who claim they do are lying.”

Fennrin smiled at that. He really liked being around Daryan. The man was very charming.

“I’ll need to find some place to sleep,” Fennrin sighed. “I can’t bear to sleep in Ain’s house right now. Do you know where the nearest tavern is?” His eyes widened in realization then as he patted his pockets, only finding a few coins. “Oh no, I barely have any money on me.”

Daryan shook his head. “Nonsense, Fenn. You can stay at the palace until you decide what to do.”

Fennrin stared at him, unsure. “Is that…okay? Are you sure?”

Daryan smiled and patted his shoulder. “Of course I am. That is where I was leading you to before Mhalyn stopped us.”

“Oh.” Fennrin blinked, following after Daryan when he set off again, leading him farther into the palace. “I didn’t realize. I thought I was just…I don’t know what I thought, actually.”

Daryan looked back at him with a grin bigger than what he usually graced him with, his eyes sparkling. “It’s been a long trip to get here.”

Fennrin nodded, grateful that Daryan wasn’t making fun of him. Though the man had never done that before, so he wasn’t sure why he’d though he might. “Yes, it has. I am very tired.”

Daryan nodded, continuing on until they reached a series of doors. Daryan opened one, showing Fennrin inside.

It was a relatively small but very cozy bedroom with a soft-looking bed with red covers, a bedside table with an oil lamp on it standing right next to the bed, and a tall wardrobe on his left. Long, red curtains covered up the window on the wall opposite the door, a rug covering the floor. The only other thing in the room was a desk with a chair by the window.

“Apologies about the space. The bedrooms here don’t tend to be very large,” Daryan said, evening out the rug with his foot.

Fennrin blinked at him in shock. “What? No, it’s perfect. Thank you. This is much more than I expected.”

Daryan looked at him silently for a moment, staring into his soul. “I know you are very humble, Fenn. But there is no need for it. You are a hero now, no less than Ainreth. You will get used to the finer things in life soon enough.”

Fennrin frowned, not sure what to think of that. “I am fine with not having those, though.”

Daryan smiled at him. “If you end up disliking finery, I can understand that. It can be complicated. But I doubt you will. I just don’t want you to feel guilty for having it. You’ve more than earned everything the palace has to offer, certainly.”

Fennrin frowned more, trying to wrap his head around this whole idea while Daryan walked around him, pausing by the door.

“Please stay as long as you need,” Daryan said, smiling at Fennrin. “If you’re hungry, the dining hall is on the opposite side of this hallway. There is always something there.”

Fennrin smiled back, touched that Daryan cared so much to tell him these things. And that he was letting him stay here for free. “Thank you. I think I’ll sleep for now, though.”

Daryan nodded. “As will I. Do stop by my office when you can, please. We need to discuss how to handle these protests. I will be in need of your help.”

Fennrin nodded. “Of course. That is why I am here.”

Daryan didn’t smile at that, but he did nod at him and with a wave closed the door.

Now alone, Fennrin was hit with how tired he was. He’d barely slept in the carriage on account of it every so often jerking around in the wind.

He kicked his boots off and lay down on top of the bedcovers, closing his eyes and sighing. He fell asleep nearly instantly, too tired to resist.

When Fennrin woke up, he had to frown because the light levels were nearly the same as when he’d arrived here. Shouldn’t it be the middle of the night?

But when he got up and pulled apart the curtains, he had to squint through intense sunlight that hit his face instantly. Blinking, he peered outside. From here he had a nice view of the palace gardens and of the sun, high in the sky.

Had he really slept through the whole night? He must have truly been tired.

Looking down at himself, he grimaced at how dirty his clothes were, even though he had changed into what he wore outside of the battlefield before leaving. He could use a bath too, rather badly, but he would worry about that later, he decided as he walked over to the wardrobe, looking if there is anything for him to change into.

To his surprise, the wardrobe was full of clothes. Fennrin pulled out a shirt at random, blinking at it. It was dark purple, nearly black, with thin, golden swirls decorating it in complex patterns. Far too fancy for him to wear. But he suspected that would be true for most of the clothes in here.

A brief look through it all confirmed his theory. So it seemed he had no choice but to give in. He should probably just accept that his shadowforging ensured a high status in life instead of constantly feeling like he didn’t deserve it.

It was strange that Daryan of all people had told him that, given that Daryan tended to wear simpler clothing, but perhaps that was simply what he liked to wear, rather than thinking he shouldn’t get to.

Fennrin scowled. What a ridiculous thought. Daryan had infinitely more confidence than Fennrin, not to mention he was so much older and wiser. Of course he did whatever he liked without worrying what others might think.

Shaking his head, Fennrin replaced his shirt with this one, blinking at how soft it was. He quickly found equally as dark trousers to put on with it, looking into the mirror on the wall next to the door to see how the clothes fit.

He frowned at his reflection, almost feeling like a different person in such dark colors, though the clothes themselves fit acceptably. Then he noticed how awful his hair looked, sticking out of his ponytail, tangled and greasy.

He couldn’t fix the last part, but he could try to make himself look more presentable because his hair was currently clashing incredibly hard with his new clothing.

Managing to find a hairbrush after a bit of looking, Fennrin undid his ponytail and slid the brush through his hair, wincing at all the tangles he encountered, brushing through each one until his hair was at least evened out. He grimaced at how flat it hug from his head. He really needed a bath.

Tying his hair back again, he sighed, nodding at his reflection. He looked and felt better now, but it was still far too clear he’d been on the move for weeks.

Fennrin scowled at his reflection when he noticed some dried dirt on his cheek, trying to wipe it off before pausing as his stomach growled.

Yet another issue. But he should go see Daryan first. He had a responsibility to help him deal with the issue at hand. The sooner they figured it out, the sooner they could go back to Orinovo and deal with that crisis. And hopefully avoid Ainreth in the process, though he somehow doubted he would be that lucky.

If Ainreth was helping the protesters, then they would be directly competing to convince the public of the truth. And that idea made Fennrin’s insides tie themselves into knots.

Ainreth was such a better speaker than he was. Maybe Daryan could help him write speeches? Fennrin never knew what to say. He was still too new to this idea that people cared about what he had to say. For the vast majority of his life, that was not the case. It was still strange to him. And he wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to it.

Though he could say the same for fighting on battlefields, and he’d gotten very used to both. The rush he got from a victory almost made him thrive in a way, especially once he had let go of being so afraid of his powers, despite all the killing involved. But a few months ago, he would have been horrified by those prospects.

If he could fight Orinovan armies, he should be able to fight verbally with Ain, surely. It should not be as intimidating as it felt as. And yet, he would so much rather go back than to do this. He would just have to believe that Daryan had a plan, or that he would at least give him a list of things to do, or something similar to that.

Fennrin would do whatever he could to help, but he needed instructions. He wasn’t a leader, or even good at thinking things like this up.

After a while of wandering, lost in the massive palace, he finally managed to find Daryan’s office with some help from a servant. Despite being here several times before, Fennrin still got lost. He hoped he could find his way back to the room he’d been given without help because that would be embarrassing.

He knocked on the door, being immediately called in.

“Good morning,” he said as he opened the door, feeling a little awkward as he walked in. Daryan however immediately smiled up at him, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk for him to sit.

Feeling a little more relaxed, Fennrin sat down, looking at the new plant on Daryan’s desk, with thick, chunky leaves and red blossoms.

“It’s afternoon, actually,” Daryan corrected, grinning more while Fennrin blushed in embarrassment.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Daryan waved his hand. “No need for that. I am glad you rested up.” Fennrin nodded. “I assume you also ate?”

Fennrin shook his head. “I wanted to do that after meeting with you.”

Daryan suddenly grew serious, his lips pressed into a displeased line. “Well, that won’t do.”

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Daryan smiled, getting up and nodding at Fennrin to do the same. “Come. This isn’t such an urgent matter that you have to forgo food for.”

Fennrin hesitated, not really agreeing. This seemed fairly urgent, given that already the protests were so bad they would not have been able to get to the palace without getting accosted if they hadn’t flown up to it.

“It’s okay. I can eat after.”

As if on purpose his stomach growled. Daryan raised an eyebrow, but instead of looking amused, he seemed concerned.

“You need to put your needs first sometime,” Daryan said gently, standing very close to Fennrin. And strangely Fennrin didn’t mind it. He didn’t tend to like people being in his personal space, but it seemed Daryan was an exception. “You and your well-being matter as well.”

Fennrin found himself nodding slowly, even if he didn’t completely agree, deep down. He was flattered that Daryan wanted him to feel okay, but surely he cared mostly because it kept Fennrin effective and useful. So why was he insisting so much?

“Indulge me?” Daryan asked, smiling then. Fennrin sighed, giving in.

“If you insist.”

Fennrin winced when he saw Daryan’s face fall.

“Would you rather I didn’t accompany you? I understand. Apologies for presuming.”

Fennrin shook his head immediately, sighing. That was not at all what he’d wanted to imply. “No, I like spending time with you.”

He immediately blushed again at that admission. Something about it felt so immature when he was telling it to the leader of Lys-Akkaria.

It simply felt as though he shouldn’t be taking up Daryan’s time, he supposed. The only thing that made him special were his powers. Was that enough to justify spending leisure time with the High Herald?

“I quite like spending time with you as well,” Daryan said softly, smiling again, his eyes soft. “I just…I realize that I’ve never asked if you feel the same. Which was not very polite of me.”

Fennrin shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s always an honor that you choose to spend any amount of time with me.”

Daryan’s face saddened once more. “You truly believe that, don’t you? You truly think that you should be the one honored here?”

Fennrin frowned. He didn’t know what Daryan was trying to say exactly, but he didn’t agree with the implications he could think of.

“You are the High Herald. Have been for decades. And I’m—”

“A shadowforger. The first one born in well over a century,” Daryan cut him off, putting such emphasis on those words that Fennrin felt them in his bones.

“I didn’t earn that. You earned your position. You’ve done so much for this country,” Fennrin argued, but Daryan didn’t let him continue.

“And you haven’t? Look at what you’ve achieved, and in such a short amount of time.” Daryan shook his head. “You were given great power, yes, but you work hard to learn to use it. And you use it to ensure the safety of Lys-Akkaria—the noblest goal of all.”

Fennrin chewed on his lip. He didn’t know if he agreed. He didn’t feel worthy of the praise. But he liked it. He felt bad about liking it, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to be praised.

“And why do you do it?”

Fennrin blinked in surprise. Was this a trick question. He could tell Daryan was going to make a point, but he wasn’t sure what that point would be. “To help everyone here?”

“Not the fame and glory?”

Daryan stared him right in the eye while Fennrin frowned in confusion and shook his head. “I don’t want fame or glory. I just…don’t want to be hated.”

Daryan scowled, making Fennrin wonder if he’d said something wrong, but then the man smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “You aren’t hated. Not anymore. You’re a hero. Just like Ainreth. Except, in my opinion, better because you won’t let the fame go to your head.”

Fennrin shrugged, though his heart fluttered at more praise. He felt undeserving, especially when Daryan was saying that he was better than Ain in a way, but he couldn’t help but soak it in.

No one tended to praise him like this. Ainreth used to do it, but that had ended. Though Fennrin hoped that Daryan was right, and Ainreth was simply jealous and there was nothing more to it.

If he became afraid of Fennrin’s powers just like everyone else had been before he’d started helping Lys-Akkaria’s army, he wasn’t sure how he could handle that. It broke his heart to imagine it nearly just as much as them breaking up had.

“You are a wonderful hero to our people,” Daryan said, smiling softly.

And before Fennrin could say anything, Daryan kissed his forehead.

Fennrin blinked in surprise, his insides fluttering. He immediately flashed back to when Daryan had kissed his cheek a few months ago. And did his best not to think about how angry Ainreth had gotten because of it.

Fennrin was glad Ainreth wasn’t here, though he wasn’t happy about liking that fact.

“Erm. Is that also an Orinovan custom?”

Daryan smiled, to Fennrin’s shock his cheeks a little red, walking to the door and letting go of his shoulder. “Not quite.” He cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

Fennrin stumbled after him, his legs moving as if on their own, as he struggled to understand what just happened. He tried to put together explanations while they walked to the dining room in a somewhat tense silence, but once they were sitting down at the long table, Fennrin gave up.

“What did you mean by what you just said?” he asked as he looked around, partly because he didn’t think he could handle looking at Daryan for too long right now, and partly because he was curious about the room.

It was large, with three long tables filling the space, equally as long benches on either side of every table. Fennrin assumed that at meal times, these tables were covered with food. The ceiling caught his eye when he noticed how high it was, a fresco on it, portraying what Fennrin assumed was the battle which led to Lys-Akkaria splitting from Orinovo.

“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Daryan sighed, nodding at a servant when they came by, whispering something to him that Fennrin couldn’t hear. He wouldn’t be listening anyway because he was too focused on whatever Daryan would say next as the servant left.

“They will bring us chicken soup. Some was left over from lunch, but they need to heat it up,” Daryan said with a smile, avoiding Fennrin’s gaze and fidgeting with his fingers, which were both incredibly strange gestures for him.

Fennrin kept staring at him, knowing that Daryan was well aware he wouldn’t let this go. Daryan sighed, playing with the white table mat in front of him. “I am very fond of you, Fennrin. Perhaps too much.”

Fennrin frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean. “Is…being fond of someone a problem?”

Daryan smiled at him, though his eyes were sad, regretful. “Well, yes, in this case.” He grimaced. “You were with Ainreth until now. And your current personal situation is highly ideal for me to make any propositions.”

Fennrin’s eyes went wide as he finally understood what Daryan was saying, gaping at him. His brain struggled to compute it all. “I…what? Wait.” He took another moment to comprehend this. “You…like me?”

Daryan smiled as he sighed. “Our language is far too vague about emotions, isn’t it?”

Fennrin frowned some more, overwhelmed. He wasn’t even sure how he felt about this. Flattered? Confused? Torn?

He liked Daryan as well, but did he like him that way? He had been much too focused on Ainreth for a thought like this to even enter his mind, much less for him to entertain it. And now that he did, he felt foolish for daring to think the High Herald would be interested in him for his looks or personality, both of which were average at best.

“You can’t like me romantically,” Fennrin said the thought out loud, unable to accept that as fact. Daryan must have been making fun of him.

“Yes, I know,” Daryan replied, grimacing sadly. “It’s incredibly inappropriate to bring this up at this time. I apologize. I didn’t intend to. I simply…forgot myself in the moment.”

Fennrin continued staring at him. “But…you’re the High Herald. And I’m—”

“The Nightrazer,” Daryan finished for him, smiling. “If anything, I am unworthy of you.”

Fennrin scowled, shaking his head. “That’s not true. What about the fact that you are so much older? I must seem so immature to someone as experienced and wise as you.”

Daryan nodded, looking off at a painting on the far wall, but his eyes were hooded, lost in thought.

“I met the great love of life when I was twenty-two, and she was over one hundred years old. We were together for thirty years until she was killed on the battlefield, defending Lys-Akkaria from an attack by Orinovo.”

Fennrin blinked. He’d had no idea about any of this, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d had no reason to know about Daryan’s personal life. But it was so staggering just how old Daryan was. He didn’t look more than middle-aged, and yet he’d been alive for as long as Lys-Akkaria existed. He’d likely been alive when it had separated from Orinovo.

A somewhat tense silence followed, Daryan too deep in thought and Fennrin too overwhelmed with this information to say anything. He nearly flinched when the servant came back with their food, putting steaming bowls of the promised chicken soup in front of them both before leaving.

Fennrin felt his mouth water at the delicious smell, but he was still too stuck in thought to eat, just staring at it.

“I don’t expect anything like that from you, my dear,” Daryan said as he picked up a spoon and swirled it in the soup to cool it down. He wasn’t looking at him, turning his full attention to his food. “I should not have said anything to begin with. I apologize.”

Fennrin frowned, shaking his head. “No, I…. It’s…okay. I simply don’t know how to, um, react. I’m f-flattered.”

Fennrin blushed, feeling horribly embarrassed by his stammering reaction. But he truly had no idea what to do.

He was clear on one thing however—he would need time to figure out where he and Ainreth stood, where they should go from here, before he even dared think about anything like this.

Daryan smiled at him, though there was a bit of sadness in his eyes. “You look very regal in these clothes, by the way.”

Fennrin blinked down at himself, having forgotten he’d changed. “Oh. Is that good?”

Daryan grinned, a proper toothy smile. “Yes. Quite so. You are exceptional. It only makes sense to look the part.”

Fennrin blushed, once again flattered and not knowing what to do with himself as he played with the edge of his sleeve.

“I’ll make sure to have more clothes sent to your room in your size,” Daryan said, nodding to himself.

“Oh, this is too much already,” Fennrin immediately protested. “I can’t accept—”

“You are my guest here. A guest of the palace. It’s quite standard.”

Fennrin looked down at his clothes again. He did like how they looked, even if he didn’t feel as though he should get them for free. But he decided not to argue further.

Daryan seemed intent on gifting him things, and he would have to learn how to accept them, given that he very much liked them. He wouldn’t want to upset Daryan by constantly making him assure Fennrin it was okay.

“Thank you.”

Daryan smiled at him before turning to start eating. Following his example, Fennrin sampled his own soup, burning his tongue a little. It was still delicious, though, especially after weeks of dry bread and salted meat on the battlefield, and he began to eat eagerly after blowing on the soup a little, his stomach growling.

He had no idea what to do with all this new information, but somehow he didn’t feel as awkward as he would have expected, which he hoped was a good thing.

He would just have to file this away for now because they had more pressing issues. Not that he wanted to disregard whatever feelings Daryan had, but he would surely agree.

So first, they would eat and hopefully Fennrin get a bath, and then they would start trying to calm the situation down, whatever Daryan’s plan will be.

Ain and the protesters couldn’t win. If they did, Lys-Akkaria was doomed.

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