We reached the imposing Aresina River bridge just a few hours after setting out from Ferne, the massive wooden structure looming before us. Once we crossed it, leaving the familiar architecture behind, we had officially left the North and everything we knew. Practically speaking, we were now traveling along a well-worn forest path commonly used by merchant caravans—one that would take another two full days of steady travel before we completely exited northern territory and its protective borders. In total, according to the maps and the soldiers' estimates, it would take an entire week of continuous travel to reach Selon, the southern capital. But for Arap, the ultimate destination of our journey, that would take approximately a month of grueling travel, according to what Jiao had told me in our conversations. And somewhere along that long, arduous journey, we were expected to cross an actual desert—a vast expanse of sand and heat. A desert. I had never even seen one before, never felt sand beneath my feet or experienced that kind of relentless heat. The very concept felt foreign and almost impossible to imagine.
Jiao had once mentioned casually in conversation that he'd personally witnessed Arvid kill bandits with his bare hands during their travels, dispatching them efficiently and without hesitation. I still wasn't entirely sure if that story was meant as reassurance about our safety or as a subtle warning about my husband's capabilities and temperament.
When we finally reached the riverbank, the carriage slowing to navigate the approach, both Katherine and I leaned eagerly out of the carriage window simultaneously to catch one last, lingering glimpse of our home—northern Draga, the only land we had ever known. The water of the Aresina shimmered beautifully under the pale midday sun, catching the light and throwing it back in dancing patterns. The wind carried the faint, familiar scent of pine and snow and something indefinable that simply meant home. It felt strangely melancholic—deeply sad, yet undeniably beautiful in that sadness. I held my breath as the North slowly retreated behind us, our homeland gradually being swallowed up by the thick, dense forest line that seemed to close behind us like a curtain. It felt as though the land itself was deliberately hiding from us, turning away and whispering a subdued, reluctant goodbye that we could almost hear on the wind.
We pulled our heads back inside the carriage at almost the same moment, as if by unspoken agreement. Katherine didn't even try to hide her tears or maintain any pretense of composure. They slipped freely down her pale cheeks in steady streams, and she wiped them away repeatedly with a delicate embroidered handkerchief that was quickly becoming soaked. I didn't cry—I refused to allow myself that release—but something inside me tightened sharply and painfully, like a fist closing around my heart. Sympathy, perhaps. Or something heavier and more complicated, something painful but achingly familiar that I couldn't quite name.
We northerners truly, deeply loved our lands with a fierce devotion that outsiders rarely understood. It was our home, our cradle, the place where every story we knew began and where we expected to end. It was everything we had ever been, the foundation of our very identities.
Katherine had merely tolerated me thus far during our brief time together—maybe because of the intense experience we had shared during the dragon summoning—but now she treated me with a genuine level of respect that felt new and almost fragile, as if it might shatter if mishandled. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but a meaningful one nonetheless. If she had remained openly sarcastic or actively disloyal throughout this journey, the weeks ahead would have been a complete nightmare for both of us.
We traveled slowly and carefully. Even though the path was technically paved with ancient stones, it still wound tortuously through dense, old-growth forest, and moving through the narrow passages between trees as such a large group was never easy or efficient. The carriage rocked and bumped constantly as thick roots twisted across the road like gnarled veins, creating natural obstacles. Branches creaked ominously overhead in the wind, and every so often the horses snorted nervously at small animals skittering rapidly in the underbrush, startled by our passage. The riders at the front of our column kept constantly alert, hands near their weapons, though fortunately all we encountered were small critters darting nervously along the tree line—rabbits, squirrels, the occasional fox. No sign of the larger, more dangerous predators that were known to inhabit these woods—not yet, at least. That was fortunate for everyone involved, both us and the wildlife. Neither we nor the predators needed unnecessary trouble or bloodshed.
When night finally fell, darkness descending quickly as it always did in the forest, the group decided to make camp in a clearing that the soldiers clearly knew well from previous journeys. It was a wide, open plain situated right beside a dramatic cliff that dropped steeply and suddenly into seeming nothingness, the bottom invisible in the darkness. The land bore faint marks of old fires scattered across it—clear evidence that soldiers and travelers had rested here many times before, that this was a traditional stopping point. The air was bitingly cold, almost painfully so, cutting through our clothes. We hadn't yet reached the legendary southern lands where the sun was said to shine generously all year round, where winter was supposedly non exsistent. I wondered what that would actually feel like, that constant warmth. I had never known warmth that didn't come directly from a fire or thick furs.
As the soldiers efficiently pitched tents and lit torches around the perimeter, Arvid approached our carriage clearly intending to serve me food personally like he'd done dutifully before. But Katherine moved faster, intercepting him smoothly. She had taken her new role as my personal maid very seriously and carried the responsibility of my well-being tightly against her chest like a sacred duty. She stepped between us with practiced grace, her chin lifted with a new confidence that hadn't been there before.
The result was a very sulky, disappointed Arvid who looked like a kicked puppy.
"You're very capable at your duties," he said with barely concealed dryness as Katherine handed me a steaming bowl of food with proper ceremony. It was traditional northern cuisine—thick vegetable stew with a generous piece of mutton floating in it. The smell alone felt like home, bringing back memories. Arvid received his own bowl from another servant and bit into the tender mutton with clear delight, his mood improving slightly.
"Of course she has to be capable—she's my personal maid after all," I replied smoothly, answering for Katherine. "I wouldn't have chosen her otherwise." She gave a small, pleased tilt of her head at the compliment and settled beside me with her own modest share of stew. We ate together in comfortable silence, letting the heat from the bowls warm our cold fingers.
"I'll make tea for us," Arvid announced suddenly, standing up with purpose. Katherine immediately opened her mouth—likely to object out of duty, to insist that she should be the one preparing beverages—but I reached over quickly and gently squeezed her hand, silencing her with that simple gesture.
"Go ahead, Arvid," I told him with a sweet, encouraging smile.
He turned bright red instantly. Absolutely crimson, his face flushing dramatically. The poor man nearly dropped his precious pouch of tea leaves in his flustered fumbling, his hands suddenly clumsy. He muttered a distressed, "Oh my gods," under his breath as he struggled to retrieve the bag, his hands moving with more enthusiasm than actual coordination. It took him noticeably longer than usual to prepare the tea properly, but when he finally returned to us, he handed each of us a cup with great care and attention. We sipped together, the three of us forming a small circle.
Warm. Refreshing. Comforting. Arvid's teas always were, without fail.
Katherine hesitated at first, eyeing the unfamiliar beverage with suspicion—tea was not common in the North except for the expensive eastern blends traded from distant Chang'an—but the moment the complex flavor settled on her tongue, her eyes widened dramatically in appreciation and surprise.
"There's quite an extensive variety of teas in the South," Arvid explained proudly, clearly pleased by her reaction. "We cultivate dozens of different types. We export the tea we produce in large quantities to the West and other regions. They absolutely love it there—cold countries particularly appreciate a beverage that warms you effectively from the inside out."
Katherine excused herself politely after a while, setting down her empty cup. I followed her gaze curiously and saw the reason for her departure. A familiar boy lingered somewhat awkwardly among the soldiers near a different fire—Dulga's youngest son, the stone carver. I had completely forgotten about his presence in our group. He looked even more frail than I remembered from our brief encounter, his frame thin, but his brown hair and bright blue eyes stood out strikingly under the dancing firelight. Katherine walked over to him purposefully, and the two began talking softly, their heads bent together.
It dawned on me somewhat belatedly—a realization that should have been obvious—that I wasn't going South alone, leaving everything behind.
I was taking pieces of the North with me. Taking them with me.
"Do you think they'll fall in love?" Arvid asked suddenly, noticing my distracted gaze fixed on the pair.
"That, I honestly can't tell," I replied thoughtfully. "But Katherine is probably just being polite and kind to a fellow countryman, someone from home… and perhaps giving us some privacy, some alone time together."
Arvid looked directly at me then. His eyes met mine intensely for a single heartbeat before he quickly looked away again, unable to maintain the connection.
"You've been doing that a lot lately," I told him, my voice gently amused. "Looking away like that. Acting like a nervous teenager with a hopeless crush."
He fidgeted restlessly with his fingers, twisting them together, then swallowed hard, his throat working visibly.
"That's because… I think I'm genuinely in love with you," he whispered, the words barely audible. Then, almost immediately, he looked up at me with sudden panic filling his expression. "Ah— you don't have to reply to that confession. You don't have to say anything back. I'm just saying what it is, what I feel."
Even though I had known somewhere deep inside—had suspected and half-understood—that he felt that way about me, actually hearing the words spoken aloud with such vulnerability… it struck differently, hit me with unexpected force. My heartbeat quickened noticeably, pounding hard in my chest like a war drum. A strange, wild urge surged powerfully within me—an overwhelming urge to pull him close into a kiss so intense and consuming it would bind him to me forever, mark him irrevocably as mine and no one else's. A primal possessiveness rippled through me like fire racing through dry grass.
Dragons could be frighteningly possessive of what they considered theirs.
Part of me—the part that was becoming increasingly less human—wanted desperately to grab him and take off into the sky, to fly away and hide him in some remote cave somewhere so no one else would ever see him, ever touch him, ever have him. The impulse was dangerous. Terrifying in its intensity. And disturbingly intoxicating.
Especially after what I had discovered last night during the summoning ritual, the truths the dragon had revealed. Something fundamental inside me was shifting—an emotional and physical pull that was almost impossible to ignore or resist, growing stronger each day.
But I was very, very good at pretending nothing could faze me, at maintaining control.
I rose gracefully from my seat and walked toward him with purpose.
"Walk with me," I said softly, extending my hand in invitation.
He took it gently without hesitation, his palm warm and slightly rough as he rose to his feet. We walked hand in hand through the cool night air, our fingers intertwined, until we reached the cliff's dramatic edge. A single enormous tree stood there in solitary majesty—ancient and towering, rooted so impossibly deeply into the earth it felt like it had been standing in exactly this spot since the world's very first dawn, witnessing everything. In full daylight, I suspected strongly that the view from here would be absolutely breathtaking, spectacular. But now, under the dark sky with only starlight, the world far below was just a shadowed abyss, mysterious and unknowable.
At least the sky above was perfectly clear tonight. Countless stars glittered like thousands of tiny lanterns scattered across a velvet canvas, framing the bright full moon in a soft, ethereal halo. The breeze was cool and fresh, brushing gently against our faces and moving our hair.
We stood there together for a long, peaceful moment, simply breathing in the night and each other's presence.
Then I turned to face him fully, gathering my courage.
"Arvid," I began softly, carefully choosing my words, "I don't fully understand what I feel toward you yet. There is something—something real and growing that I can't quite name or define yet. And I do feel genuinely comfortable around you, safe with you, more than I ever expected to feel with anyone. But I'm not going to name what this is. Not yet. It's too soon."
He blinked, his expression gentle but uncertain, waiting.
"Giving something a name gives it power and makes it real," I continued, trying to explain. "But I want you to know this, and believe it—I'll be completely faithful to you. Loyal to you in every way. And I promise sincerely to never deliberately break your heart or betray your trust. I just… need some time to understand myself. Will you be okay with that uncertainty?"
My hands were trembling slightly as I held his, betraying my nervousness.
"Will you wait for me?" I lifted his hands carefully to my face and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to them, my lips warm against his skin. "Will you wait patiently while I figure this out?"
I rubbed my cheek affectionately against his knuckles, savoring the warmth of his skin and the simple intimacy.
His breath hitched audibly, catching in his throat.
"I— I will wait," he whispered with absolute conviction. "However long it takes."
And there, under the vast northern sky, with the stars shimmering like distant promises and the moon bearing witness, it felt as though the world had shifted—just a little, but significantly—toward something new and precious.