Pirates!

The forest thickened as they moved away from the shoreline. Estaria’s boots crunched on fallen pine needles, a welcome change from endless sand. The girls had perked up once they entered the shade, the cooler air energizing their tired legs.

“We should find somewhere to rest properly,” Estaria said, pushing a branch aside. “Tidalrest is close, but we need a plan before walking in.”

Sara adjusted her pack. “Agreed. The girls need time to recover.”

“Look!” Beth pointed upward through the trees. “Is that a house?”

Estaria followed her gesture. Through the branches, he spotted wooden platforms and walls nestled among three massive pines. The construction was weathered but solid - clearly maintained by someone who knew their craft.

“It’s a hunter’s blind,” he said, circling the base of the largest tree. “They use these during long hunts.” A sturdy ladder of wooden slats led upward.

Clara peered up. “Can we stay here?”

“Let me check first.” Estaria climbed the ladder, testing each rung. The platform didn’t creak under his weight - a good sign. The blind itself was spacious, with proper walls and a slanted roof to shed rain. Someone had left basic supplies: dry kindling, a few clay pots, even some preserved vegetables in sealed jars.

“It’s perfect,” he called down. “Plenty of room for all of us.”

Beth practically bounced in place. “A treehouse! Can we go up now?”

Sara helped the girls with their packs before they climbed. Their exhaustion seemed forgotten as they explored the blind’s interior. It had clearly been built for extended stays, with sleeping platforms along one wall and a small fire pit near the screened window.

“This is amazing,” Clara said, running her hand along the smooth wooden walls. “Like something from a story.”

“More comfortable than the ground, that’s certain.” Sara set down her pack, then gestured for Beth to sit. “Let me see those feet of yours.”

Beth’s shoes came off to reveal angry blisters. Clara’s weren’t much better. Sara pulled medical supplies from her pack while Estaria got a fire started in the steel fire pit. The smoke drew efficiently through gaps in the roof slats.

“We should stay here a few days,” Sara said, applying salve to Beth’s feet. “Give these a chance to heal.”

Estaria nodded, watching the flames catch. “We need to be careful about entering Tidalrest anyway. It’s not like Appledale - guards at every gate, checking papers.”

“Will they be looking for us?” Clara asked quietly.

Sara shot Estaria a warning look. “Just normal precautions. Nothing to worry about, yet. ”

But Clara’s question hung in the air as Sara finished tending to the girls’ injuries. Beth had fallen asleep on her sleeping platform, worn out from the day’s journey. Clara soon followed, though Estaria noticed she kept one eye open, watching them.

Once both girls were asleep, Sara moved closer to the fire. “Mother will almost certainly focus her attention on Convergence first. It’ll be a few days yet before she learns that you never arrived there.”

The fire popped and crackled. Through the blind’s window, Estaria could see branches swaying in the evening breeze. The girls’ steady breathing provided a quiet counterpoint to their whispered planning.

“We need supplies,” Sara continued. “Real beds for the girls. Proper food. We can’t live in hunting blinds forever.”

“No.” Estaria pulled out his father’s ledger. “But we need to be smart about this. One wrong move…”

“I know.” Sara’s voice was tight. “Believe me, I know exactly what’s at stake.”

They fell silent, watching the fire die down to embers. The blind grew darker, shadows deepening in the corners. Clara mumbled something in her sleep, and Sara immediately moved to check on her.

“We should rest,” she said, returning to the fire. “We can plan more tomorrow.”

Estaria’s neck protested as he shifted on the hard sleeping platform. Sunlight filtered through the blind’s screens, casting dappled patterns across the wooden floor. His muscles ached from days of walking and carrying the girls, but at least they’d slept safely last night.

The scent of Sara heating preserved vegetables from the hunter’s stores made his stomach growl. Beth and Clara were already awake, helping Sara arrange their meager breakfast on clay plates.

“We need to figure out our next steps,” Estaria said, accepting a plate from Sara. The vegetables were bland but filling. “I’ve been thinking about what Clara mentioned last week.”

Clara perked up. “What?”

“You told us about Angel’s friend in Tidalrest - a baker named Leona.”

Clara nodded, pushing a carrot around her plate. “Angel took me there once. She made the best honeycakes I’ve ever tasted.” A small smile crossed her face at the memory. “Angel really trusted her. Said she was one of the kindest people she knew.”

“Do you remember where her shop was?” Estaria asked between bites.

Clara’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “It was… halfway between the square and the gate, I think? There was a blue door, and lots of flowers in the window. And I remember walking past some fish stalls to get there.” She looked apologetic. “Sorry, that’s not very helpful, is it?”

“Actually, that helps narrow it down,” Estaria said, though he knew the dock district was still huge. “But you’re right - it’s not quite enough to risk everyone’s safety on.”

Sara set down her empty plate. “What are you thinking?”

“I should go into town alone first,” Estaria said. “Scout things out, find Leona, maybe arrange passage on a ship. We need supplies and money too.” He gestured at their dwindling food stores.

Beth made a face at her plate, as if to emphasize his point.

“I suppose you went to too much effort to get us here, to betray us now,” Sara protested. “but if anyone recognizes you-”

“It’s more dangerous to take the girls into town blind,” Estaria countered. “At least alone I can move quickly, blend in. And if something goes wrong, you’ll be safely hidden here.”

Sara frowned, but didn’t argue further. She knew he was right.

“I don’t like splitting up,” Clara said quietly.

“Neither do I,” Estaria admitted. “But sometimes the safest path isn’t the easiest one.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll bring back some of those honeycakes if I find Leona.”

That earned him a small smile from Clara, though worry still shadowed her eyes.

“How long will you be gone?” Beth asked, abandoning her half-eaten breakfast.

“I should be back before nightfall,” Estaria said. “If I’m not back by then…” He caught Sara’s warning look and changed course. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They spent the rest of breakfast working out details. Sara knew several merchants who might exchange goods without asking questions. Clara drew a rough map of what she remembered about Leona’s bakery, while Beth contributed by listing all the supplies they needed, heavy on sweets and light on vegetables.

Estaria committed it all to memory, knowing he couldn’t risk carrying written notes. As he prepared to leave, checking his coin purse and adjusting his clothes, he felt the weight of their hopes settling on his shoulders. They needed this to work.

⁂

Estaria strode through Tidalrest’s eastern gate, forcing his shoulders back and his chin high despite the nervous energy coursing through him. The familiar fish-and-salt air hit his nose, mixed with the scents of fresh bread and roasting meat from nearby taverns. His boots clicked against the cobblestones as he made his way down toward the docks.

The harbor bustled with its usual morning activity. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries mixing with shouts of dockworkers and the creak of wooden ships. Nets heavy with fish swung from newly-arrived vessels, while others loaded barrels and crates for departure.

He approached the first ship, a weathered vessel with peeling blue paint. The captain barely glanced at him before shaking his head - full cargo, no room for passengers. The second captain wanted too much money. The third ship wasn’t leaving for weeks.

The sun climbed higher as Estaria worked his way down the docks. His shirt stuck to his back in the humid air, but he maintained his purposeful stride. Each conversation made the next easier, his voice growing steadier as he practiced his story about merchant sisters seeking passage.

Near the end of the fourth dock, he spotted a pristine Concordian grain ship. Its white sails were furled tight, hull freshly painted in Concordian blue and gold. But what caught his attention was the dragon.

The creature perched on the stern deck, obsidian scales gleaming in the sunlight. Two elegant tails curled around its feet - a sight Estaria had never seen before. The young dragon couldn’t have been much bigger than a pony, but it carried itself with unmistakable dignity as it surveyed the dock.

“Interested in passage?” A weathered woman in a captain’s coat approached, noting his attention. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and laugh lines creased the corners of her eyes. “I’m Captain Mei.”

“Perhaps,” Estaria said, tearing his gaze from the dragon. “For three passengers to Luminara. When do you sail?”

“Two days’ time, weather permitting.” She gestured toward her ship. “We’ve space in the passenger cabin, though it’s simple quarters.”

They discussed terms, the captain’s straightforward manner putting Estaria more at ease. The price was fair, and she asked few questions beyond confirmation of payment. She seemed more interested in telling him about her ship’s speed records than prying into his business.

“The young one there is our navy escort,” she said, nodding toward the dragon. “First posting, I believe. Quite the honor for us - they don’t often assign dragons to merchant vessels.”

Estaria watched the dragon snap playfully at a seagull that ventured too close. “I’ve never seen one with two tails before.”

“Nor have I,” the captain said. “Been sailing thirty years, and that’s a first. Half the dock’s been by to gawk already.” She chuckled. “We’ll be the talk of every port between here and Luminara, I expect.”

Perfect, Estaria thought. He’d be able to confirm the ship’s departure without asking suspicious questions - everyone would be talking about the two-tailed dragon’s first voyage.

They settled the details, Estaria saying the passengers would arrive the next day with the payment. His hands shook slightly as he tucked the written agreement into his vest, but the captain didn’t seem to notice.

Walking away from the docks, he felt some of his tension ease. One task done. Now he just had to face the banks - and hope his parents hadn’t somehow already spread word about the missing ledger. His stomach clenched again at the thought, but he squared his shoulders and headed toward the merchant district. He couldn’t afford to look uncertain now.

The merchant district rose before him, buildings growing taller and more ornate. Glass windows gleamed in the late morning sun, their displays showcasing fine fabrics and intricate metalwork. The sweet scent of fresh-baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mixing with the ever-present salt air.

He paused outside Madame Roslyn’s Clothier, studying his reflection in the polished window. His clothes, though clean when he’d left Appledale, now bore the marks of hard travel - dust-stained and wrinkled. No Valens would be caught dead looking so disheveled, especially not in the merchant district. His mother’s voice echoed in his head, critiquing every imperfection.

A small bell chimed as he entered the shop. The scent of fresh fabric and leather enveloped him, familiar from countless fittings with his mother. An elderly woman looked up from her needlework, her eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed spectacles.

“Good morning, young sir,” she said, setting aside her work. “How may I assist you today?”

“I need something appropriate for banking business,” Estaria said, trying to channel his mother’s assured tone.

Madame Roslyn’s eyes darted over Estaria’s travel-worn clothes, her lips pursing slightly. “Of course, sir. However, given our… exclusive clientele, we do require a modest deposit before beginning.”

Heat rose in Estaria’s cheeks as he reached into his coin pouch, barely registering the amount she quoted before placing several gold pieces on the counter. The seamstress’s eyes widened, and she immediately transformed, bowing and apologizing profusely.

“Oh my, I am so terribly sorry, young sir. Please, please, right this way to our fitting area.” Her hands fluttered anxiously as she guided him to a raised platform surrounded by mirrors.

The next hour passed in a whirlwind of measuring tapes, fabric swatches, and endless chatter. Madame Roslyn’s tongue seemed determined to make up for her earlier slight, sharing every scrap of gossip she’d gathered while her nimble fingers worked.

“Hold still now, sir. Did you see the dragon down at the docks? Two tails! In all my years, I’ve never…” She adjusted his sleeve length. “My sister’s boy works the docks, says it’s quite young. First assignment and all. Imagine that! Such an honor for our humble port.”

Estaria allowed himself a small smile, pleased to hear confirmation of the ship’s status spreading through town. The seamstress continued, pins held between her lips as she adjusted the fit of a deep blue vest.

“Though we had quite the excitement last week too - arms up please, sir.” She tugged at the fabric. “Pirates, if you can believe it! One of those dark ships from Fenhaven, all reinforced wood with that gaudy sun emblem. Had the nerve to try and waylay one of our grain barges.”

Estaria’s breath caught, his mind snapping back to the hidden dock and the similar vessel he’d glimpsed there. His fingers tightened on the edge of the platform.

“Thank the heavens for the Concord Navy, I say. Drove them right back east where they belong.” She sniffed disapprovingly. “Let them stay in Fenhaven with the rest of their ilk. Now, turn please.”

But Estaria barely heard her final adjustments, his thoughts caught on that secret ship and its implications. The seamstress continued working, oblivious to his distraction as she made final marks and measurements.

“There we are, sir. Your new attire will be ready by sunset.” She bowed deeply, ushering him toward the door. “And again, my sincerest apologies for earlier. We look forward to serving you again.”

“I’m going to the bank now. I’ll head off and wash up, and be back in an hour. Will that be enough time?” Estaria slid a few extra coins across the counter.

The coins disappeared before they had rightly settled on the counter, “Of course sir. Can I have your name?”

“Estaria Valens”

In the washroom behind the shop, Estaria scrubbed the road dust from his skin and combed his hair into submission. The face that looked back from the mirror seemed both familiar and strange - the clothes transformed him back into Estaria Valens, son of a prominent merchant family, rather than the desperate fugitive he’d become.

He settled his account with Madame Roslyn, who beamed with satisfaction at her work. The old clothes went into his pack, carefully wrapped to avoid soiling his new attire.

The main square sprawled before him as he emerged, its fountain throwing diamond droplets into the air. The Gaiadran Central Bank dominated the northern side, its marble columns and brass-bound doors declaring its importance to all who passed. Guards in the bank’s crimson livery flanked the entrance, their polished breastplates catching the sunlight.

Estaria drew himself up, squaring his shoulders as he’d seen his father do countless times. Each step up the marble stairs felt heavier than the last, but he kept his pace measured and confident. The guards nodded respectfully as he approached - the new clothes doing their work.

Cool air washed over him as he entered the bank’s main hall. The ceiling soared overhead, supported by more marble columns. Brass tellers’ windows lined the walls, while well-dressed clerks hurried about with ledgers and scrolls. The floor’s intricate mosaic depicted scenes from Gaiadra’s history, worn smooth by generations of wealthy boots.

He approached the nearest unoccupied teller, a middle-aged man whose quill paused mid-stroke at Estaria’s approach.

“Good morning,” Estaria said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. “I need to speak with the bank manager regarding the Valens family accounts.”

The teller’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Of course, sir. May I have your name?”

“Estaria Valens.”

Recognition flickered across the teller’s face. “One moment, please.”

The man disappeared through a door behind the counter. Estaria forced himself to breathe evenly, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. He could feel the weight of the stolen ledger more acutely than ever.

The teller returned moments later. “Master Valens, if you’ll follow me? Master Goldweather will see you now.”

Estaria followed the teller down a side corridor, their footsteps muffled by thick carpeting. Oil paintings of past bank managers watched their passage, their stern faces seeming to judge his every move. The teller stopped before an ornately carved door and knocked twice.

“Enter,” called a voice from within.

The office smelled of leather and ink. Master Goldweather sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his fingers steepled before him. The thin man’s gray eyes studied Estaria with the careful assessment of someone used to weighing risks against rewards.

“Please, have a seat Master Valens.” The manager gestured to one of two padded chairs facing his desk.

Estaria settled into the chair, willing his hands to remain steady as he met the banker’s gaze. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Of course. How may I assist the Valens family today?”

“My parents are pursuing an exciting opportunity.” Estaria leaned forward slightly, mimicking his father’s posture during business discussions. “They’re about to be elevated to King and Queen Regent, and we’re looking to establish a stronger presence in Concord.”

The manager’s eyebrows lifted. “Indeed? That is significant news.”

“Yes, and time-sensitive. I’ve spent the past two weeks down country, finalizing details.” Estaria kept his voice measured, professional. “We need a modest sum to secure the arrangement - just a few thousand gold.”

Master Goldweather’s expression remained carefully neutral. “I see. And you have proof of your lineage? The bank must maintain certain… precautions.”

“Of course.” Estaria reached for his pack, apologizing as he withdrew his travel-worn clothes. “I haven’t had time to transfer the family emblem to my new attire yet.” He spread out the fabric, revealing the intricate Valens crest embroidered near the collar.

The manager examined the emblem but didn’t appear entirely convinced. His thin fingers drummed once on his desk. “While the craftsmanship is excellent…”

Estaria reached into his pack again, withdrawing the green ledger. His heart pounded as he placed it on the desk. “My father’s personal ledger. I brought it to record the transaction details.” He opened it carefully to the first few pages, where Burl’s familiar handwriting detailed various trades and agreements.

Master Goldweather’s eyes widened slightly as he scanned the entries. His posture shifted, becoming more attentive. “This is quite thorough documentation.”

“Father insists on perfect records.” Estaria allowed himself a small smile, thinking of the darker records hidden in the later pages. “I’m to update it as soon as the deal is complete.”

The manager nodded slowly, clearly recognizing Burl’s distinctive notation style. “Everything appears to be in order.” He pulled several forms from his desk drawer. “How much did you say you needed?”

“A thousand gold should suffice for now.”

Papers scratched against the desk as the manager slid them forward. “Your signature here, and here.” He indicated several lines with a manicured finger. “And initial these paragraphs.”

Estaria signed where indicated, his hand steady despite his racing pulse. The manager added his own signature with a flourish, then rang a small bell on his desk.

A clerk appeared moments later, receiving quiet instructions. He returned shortly with a heavy leather pouch, placing it carefully on the desk.

“Your thousand gold pieces, Master Valens.” The manager smiled thinly. “We trust this will help secure your family’s new venture.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” Estaria secured the pouch inside his vest, its weight both reassuring and terrifying. He gathered the ledger and his old clothes, tucking them safely away in his pack.

Master Goldweather stood, extending his hand. “Please give my regards to your father. We look forward to supporting the Valens family’s continued success.”

Estaria shook the offered hand, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “I’ll be sure to do that. Good day, Master Goldweather.”

Estaria’s legs nearly gave out once he rounded the corner from the bank. He sagged against the nearest wall, finally letting out a shuddering breath. His hands trembled as he touched the coin purse beneath his vest, the weight of it both comforting and damning.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the merchant district’s cobblestones. His new clothes felt stiff and confining after days in his travel-worn attire, but they had served their purpose. A thousand gold pieces. More money than he’d ever handled on his own.

Once his racing heart steadied, he straightened and smoothed his vest. A merchant’s son would never slouch in public - his mother’s voice again. He forced his feet to move at an unhurried pace, maintaining the carefully crafted illusion of belonging.

The streets grew busier as workers began heading home for the evening. The smell of fresh bread from nearby bakeries reminded him of his original plan to find Leona’s shop. He glanced at the darkening sky, knowing he’d already been gone longer than intended. Sara would be worried, and the girls…

A pang of guilt struck him. He’d promised to return before dark. The hunter’s blind was well-hidden, but leaving them alone for too long wasn’t wise. Besides, traveling these roads at night invited unwanted attention - especially carrying such a sum.

He waited until he was well past the city gates before quickening his pace. The familiar weight of his pack felt almost welcoming after hours of playing the proper merchant’s son. His body remembered the rhythm of walking, even as his mind churned over the day’s events.

The coast road stretched before him, empty save for a few late travelers heading into town. Salt air cleared his head, washing away the cloying scent of the bank’s perfumed interior. Waves crashed against the shoreline below, their steady rhythm matching his footsteps.

A group of merchants passed, heading toward Tidalrest. Estaria straightened his spine, nodding politely as they crossed paths. He maintained his measured pace until they disappeared around a bend, then broke into a steady jog.

The sun sank lower, painting the sky in deepening shades of purple and orange. He left the coast road at the agreed-upon marker, pushing through thick undergrowth toward the hunter’s blind. Branches caught at his fine new clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His legs ached from the sustained pace, unused to such exertion after days of slower travel with the children. But he pressed on, knowing each step brought him closer to Sara and the girls. The forest grew darker around him, shadows deepening between the trees.

A twig snapped somewhere in the gathering gloom. Estaria froze, his hand instinctively moving to the coin purse. He held his breath, listening intently. Nothing but the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Still, he moved more carefully after that, placing each foot with deliberate precision.

The hunter’s blind appeared exactly as he’d left it, nearly invisible among the dense foliage. No smoke rose from within - Sara knew better than to risk a fire. But as Estaria approached, he could make out the faintest whisper of Clara’s voice, reciting one of her favorite stories to Beth.

He gave their signal, a soft whistle like a thrush’s evening call. Sara’s answering whistle came immediately, releasing the tension in his shoulders. He was home - or as close to home as they had now.

⁂

Estaria ducked through the hunter blind’s entrance, his pack bulging with supplies. The girls’ faces lit up at his return, though he noticed Sara’s shoulders relax first.

“You’re late,” Sara said, but her tone held more relief than reproach.

“Sorry. The bank took longer than expected.” He shrugged off his pack, the contents clattering slightly. “But I come bearing gifts.”

Beth bounced on her toes. “Did you get the candy? The red ones I like?”

“Beth,” Sara chided, but Estaria was already pulling out a small paper bag.

“Red ones, and the yellow ones Clara prefers.” He handed them over, watching Beth’s eyes widen at the generous portion. “Don’t eat them all at once.”

Clara accepted her share with more restraint, but her eyes sparkled just as brightly. “Thank you, Estaria.”

He continued unpacking: dried meat, fresh bread still warm from the baker’s, cheese that hadn’t been sitting in the sun for days, and vegetables that actually crunched when you bit them. The familiar routine of setting up dinner felt almost normal, though the hunter’s blind was a far cry from any proper kitchen.

Sara worked efficiently beside him, her movements precise as she arranged their modest cooking setup. The smell of proper food cooking made his stomach growl, reminding him how long they’d subsisted on trail rations.

“There’s something else,” Estaria said once the girls were absorbed in their treats. He reached deeper into his pack and carefully withdrew two bottles, their dark glass gleaming in the dim light. The Valens family crest stood out clearly on the labels.

Sara’s hands stilled. “Is that…?”

“Mother’s premium bourbon. From her private collection.” He set them down gently. “One for the ship captain - it should help secure your passage. The other is for you.”

“Estaria, I can’t-”

“You’ll need it,” he interrupted. “In Luminara. Mother’s coins might not be accepted overseas, but these bottles?” He tapped one carefully. “These are known even across the sea. One bottle should fetch enough to set you and the girls up somewhere modest while you find your feet.”

Sara’s fingers traced the embossed label. “How did you get these?”

“Let’s just say Mother won’t miss them for a while.” He tried for a light tone, but Sara’s sharp look told him she heard what he wasn’t saying.

The stew bubbled, drawing their attention back to dinner. Beth wandered over, drawn by the smell of actual cooking. “Can I help?”

“You can set out the bowls,” Sara said, smoothly shifting the bottles out of sight.

They ate slowly, savoring real food after days of travel fare. Clara told stories between bites, her voice painting pictures of the dolphins they’d seen earlier. Beth added increasingly fantastic details until even Sara cracked a smile.

“Can we have more?” Beth asked, holding out her empty bowl.

Sara hesitated, but Estaria nodded. “There’s plenty. We should eat well while we can.”

As Sara dished out seconds, Estaria caught her eye. She gave him a slight nod - acknowledgment and thanks wrapped in one small gesture. They both knew what those bottles represented: a future, however uncertain, for her and the girls.

The evening settled around them, comfortable despite their circumstances. Beth dozed against Sara’s side, while Clara organized their new supplies with careful precision. The bottles sat safely wrapped in Estaria’s spare clothes, their presence a silent promise of tomorrow’s possibilities.

“We should rest,” Sara said finally. “It’s been a long day.”

They arranged their bedrolls in the familiar pattern of the past week. Beth curled up instantly, still clutching her bag of candy. Clara followed more slowly, her movements betraying her exhaustion despite her attempts to help clean up.

Estaria watched them settle, these girls who had become his responsibility through no choice of their own. The bourbon bottles might smooth their path, but they couldn’t guarantee safety. Still, it was something - a starting point, at least.

Sara caught his eye as she banked their small fire. “Thank you,” she whispered, too quietly for the girls to hear. “For everything.”

Sara scrubbed at the bowls with a small rag, using precious canteen water to clean away the remnants of their meal. The wooden platform of the hunter’s blind creaked beneath her as she worked, tossing the dirty water over the railing into the darkness below.

The bottles of bourbon weighed on her mind. Not their physical presence - they were safely tucked away - but what they represented. Those weren’t just expensive spirits; they were Klindon’s personal stock, kept under lock and key. Sara had heard enough about Estaria’s mother over the years to know the risk he’d taken. Stealing from Klindon Valens wasn’t just dangerous - it was practically suicidal.

And yet he’d done it. For them.

The sound of Beth’s soft snoring drifted out from inside the blind. Sara glanced back through the doorway, watching her nieces sleep. Clara had curled protectively around her sister, even in slumber. They looked so peaceful, so unaware of the danger that had driven them from their homes.

The name “Streacresh” surfaced in her thoughts, along with Estaria’s strange reaction when he’d found it in the ledger. She still didn’t understand why that particular entry had affected him so deeply, or why he’d felt compelled to steal the book in the first place. But watching him with the girls, seeing how fiercely he worked to protect them…

She understood what Angel had seen in him now.

Angel had always defended Estaria when others questioned her choice. “There’s more to him than his family name,” she’d insist. Sara hadn’t believed it then, too wary of anything connected to the Valens family. But now…

Sara set the last clean bowl aside and dried her hands on her skirt. Inside the blind, Estaria sat cross-legged near the girls, his attention focused on the ledger in his lap. The flickering lantern cast shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion etched there.

“Estaria,” she called softly. “Could you come out here for a moment?”

He looked up, surprised, then carefully set the ledger aside and joined her on the balcony. The night air carried the scent of pine and distant sea salt. Sara leaned against the railing, gathering her thoughts.

“I owe you an apology,” she began.

“For what?”

“For judging you unfairly. For seeing only your family name.” She turned to face him. “I understand now what Angel saw in you. Why she trusted you so completely.”

Pain flashed across his features at Angel’s name, raw and immediate. Not the dull ache of an old wound, but something fresh and bleeding. Sara’s heart ached for him.

“I know this isn’t what any of us planned,” she continued. “And I don’t understand everything that’s happening - with the ledger, with Streacresh, with any of it. But I want you to know that I forgive you for getting us tangled up in all this.”

Estaria’s hands tightened on the railing. “You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do.” Sara touched his arm gently. “You’ve risked everything to keep us safe. Those bottles alone…” She shook her head. “I know what your mother will do if she discovers they’re missing.”

The wood creaked under their feet as Estaria shifted. “It was worth the risk.”

“I know. That’s exactly what I mean.” She smiled sadly. “Angel always said you had a good heart. She was right.”

Estaria’s breath caught at that, and Sara pretended not to notice him wiping his eyes. They stood in companionable silence for a moment, listening to the night sounds of the forest.

“I don’t know what you’re searching for in that ledger,” Sara said finally, “but I hope you find it. And I hope, when you do, it gives you peace.”

He didn’t respond, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. Sara gave his arm one final pat before heading back inside to check on the girls. Beth had sprawled out in her sleep, one arm flung across Clara’s face. Clara muttered something in her sleep, wrinkling her nose but not waking. Sara adjusted them gently, tucking the blanket more securely around their shoulders.