Citë
The drover's cart came to a halt as they arrived at the gate of the district of Citë. Before the four of them could process what was happening, they were dragged out and bound.
"Hey, what's going on?" Rivan demanded, his voice defiant.
Some of the sheep leaped from the cart in fear.
Zachary made a move to resist, but one of the assailants pressed a sword to Qaya's throat, silently warning him.
"Let's not be rash," the man taunted, his voice laced with mockery.
Realizing they had no choice, they complied. They were led to a canoe and forced to sit quietly as their captors rowed.
"You work for the Jamon house," Rivan stated matter-of-factly.
The men merely shrugged and continued paddling.
Despite their situation, Qaya couldn't help but be mesmerized by the city of Citë. It was bustling, brimming with culture and vibrancy. Waterways served as the primary mode of transportation, so there were no carriages within the district itself—only boats that weaved through the canals.
The people wore flowing muslin and silk garments, exuding effortless elegance. The men dressed minimally, their affluence marked only by the family signet rings they adorned. The women, however, resembled princesses, their gowns adorned with delicate embroidery and shimmering fabrics.
Aristocratic women in Citë adhered to a strict tradition—they always wore light satin or lace veils over their faces. A woman could only reveal her face in the company of close family and friends.
As the canoe approached the grand Jamon Mansion, Qaya marveled at its beauty. Statues lined the estate—monuments of the island's founder and first settler, Jamon, along with the official symbol of the island: the mermaid.
"What exactly does Lady Jamon want with us?" Qaya muttered under her breath.
She would soon find out.
They were shoved into Lady Jamon's presence.
"Be careful with them," a veiled Lady Jamon said, amusement clear in her tone. "These are affluent people you're manhandling."
"Apologies, my lady," one of the men murmured.
"Untie them."
Once their bindings were removed, Lady Jamon waved a hand, dismissing the guards. The moment they were alone, Qaya stepped forward.
"Your Serene Highness, permit me to ask—what do you want with us?"
Lady Jamon chuckled. "What if I told you I made a deal with King Awin?"
Qaya stiffened, fear creeping into her bones. But she forced herself to remain composed. She wouldn't break down like she had in the cart.
"I know we've been branded as traitors, but I swear to you, Your Serene Highness, we are innocent."
"That may be true, but I don't particularly care," Lady Jamon mused, examining her nails. "I've been promised a reward. I can't let you go now."
A tense silence filled the air, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Then, suddenly—
Lady Jamon burst into laughter.
"My apologies," she said between chuckles. "Did I take the joke too far?"
They stared at her, bewildered.
"For your information, I haven't spoken to Awin in—what, six years?" she said with mock nonchalance. "I honestly lost count."
Relief washed over them, though they weren't fond of her teasing.
"Then why did you bring us here?" Jaslin asked, her voice wary.
Lady Jamon fell silent, her playful demeanor fading. She appeared deep in thought before sighing and lifting her veil.
Qaya gasped.
"I heard you were looking for me," Lady Jamon said, a smug smile playing on her lips.
"Talmia?"
"I heard you were searching for the heretic."
Qaya looked away, embarrassed. "My apologies."
"It's no problem," Talmia replied. "So, why were you looking for me?"
"I… wanted to know if you had any knowledge of a book on mythic twins."
Talmia flinched, but she quickly masked it with a neutral expression. "I'm afraid I can't help you."
Liar. Qaya mused
"Really? You can't, or you won't?"
Talmia smirked. Rising from her seat, she studied them. "You can't blame me for being cautious. Before me stands Awin's Lymer, the commander of the dragon cavalry, Awin's fiancée, and her lady-in-waiting. I can't trust people so intimately tied to that despicable man."
"You don't actually believe that," Qaya scoffed.
"If you truly distrusted us, you wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to bring us here just because you heard I was looking for the heretic," she reasoned. "The fact that Awin has labeled us traitors should be proof enough that we are not on his side. You trust us, Lady Jamon. Otherwise, you wouldn't have revealed your identity."
"This whole 'I-don't-trust-you' act is just a ploy to get leverage over us."
Talmia chuckled, shaking her head. "You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"
"It's true that I need your help," she admitted. "So, let's strike a deal. You help me, and I'll tell you what you need to know."
Rivan crossed his arms. "I don't mean to be rude, but it's only Mahalia who needs your help."
Talmia scoffed. "That's what you think. I'm the only one who can protect you—or have you forgotten that you're fugitives?"
She gave them a knowing look before continuing, "The report on De Gei Jaune that you received? I personally prepared it and ensured it was delivered to you."
"De Gei Jaune? They're the problem?"
"They're one of them," Talmia corrected. "A gang of low-life thugs who, in large numbers, have become a menace. They cause havoc and terror, yet somehow always evade law enforcement."
She leaned in slightly. "But they're just the bottom feeders. The real threat is an organization called Yellow Jay—assassins, saboteurs, terrorists. And do you know who controls them?"
She let the question hang in the air before answering, "Awin."
Silence stretched between them as they absorbed the information.
"Do you know why Awin would do this?" Qaya finally asked.
Talmia sighed. "It's his way of subduing and conquering us."
Zachary scoffed. "He has a thing for world domination, doesn't he?"
Talmia motioned for them to follow her. They entered a dimly lit study, documents scattered across a desk.
"When my husband's ancestors settled here, they dreamed of an island built on liberation and peace," she began.
"But the surrounding nations were greedy. They waged countless wars to claim Porto Jamon. In the end, our ancestors realized we couldn't survive alone—we needed alliances. So, we agreed to pay protection fees to Easteford, Arayle, Kusuk, and Siera in exchange for peace and trade rights."
"As time passed, the other nations stopped protecting us—except for Easteford."
"And with Easteford as our sole protector, we became their slaves."
"But Awin's Emancipation Decree changed that," Jaslin interjected.
Talmia let out a bitter laugh. "You really believe that?"
"Awin just moved slavery underground. Qaya, of all people, you should understand that."
At that, Zachary, Rivan, and Jaslin turned to Qaya, but she remained silent, her expression unreadable.
"So where do we come in?" Qaya asked, breaking the tension.
Talmia's gaze hardened. "I need you to investigate and expose Awin's connection to Yellow Jay. If we can prove his involvement, we can break free from Easteford and make Porto Jamon an independent principality again."
"That's a lofty dream you're asking us to help with," Zachary noted.
"How do we even go about that?" Qaya groaned.
Talmia sighed, visibly exhausted from all the talking. "We can discuss this over lunch tomorrow, but for now, you need new identities if you're going to stay here."
She turned to Qaya. "You'll be Qaya Wright, my daughter's governess."
Then to Jaslin. "You'll be Lin Gadir, my distant cousin from the north who came to visit."
She paused for a moment before looking at Rivan. "Now, you, Rivan... you'll be Ivan Gadir, my cousin's husband."
"Wait, what?" Jaslin blurted, but Talmia had already moved on.
"Zuke," she said, turning to Zachary.
"Just Zuke?" Zachary asked, sounding disappointed.
"Yeah, you're Ivan's secretary," she replied dismissively.
Rivan stifled a laugh as Zachary shot him a sharp glare.
Talmia returned to her seat, covering her face with her hands. "Guards."
Two men walked in immediately.
"Show them to the guesthouse."
---
EASTEFORD
AWIN'S OFFICE
Awin seethed with rage. The soldiers sent to Porto Jamon had somehow lost the four "traitors." Beyond their appalling incompetence, what truly infuriated him was the major setback this failure had caused in his grand plan.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. He needed a clear head to find a solution.
Turning to Bertrand, who had just relayed the news, he ordered, "While we are still trying to capture those rats, arrange a meeting with the Galilean delegation of saints and priests."
"Yes, Your Highness." Bertrand bowed and was about to leave when Awin added,
"And send a summons to Dylan Mariale."
Bertrand hesitated, eyeing the king carefully. He was trying to decipher Awin's intentions, but when he failed to do so, he finally spoke.
"Your Highness, if I may ask—what do you plan to do about Zachary and the others?"
Awin slumped into his chair, regret washing over him. In a fit of anger, he had branded Zachary and his accomplices as traitors without fully considering the consequences. Ever since the Qaya Wright case, Zachary had been acting strangely, and Awin's instincts told him that his once-loyal "dog" was developing his own agenda.
Awin was a man who valued control and despised being caught off guard. So when he discovered that Zachary had planned to help his nation against his wishes, his fury had been uncontrollable.
Why did I drag Mahalia into this mess? he berated himself. He had implicated Mahalia, Jaslin, and Rivan to strengthen his case against Zachary, but now he realized it had been a mistake.
His pride had been wounded when they all traveled to Porto Jamon—a place he had kept hidden from prying eyes, where their presence could unearth secrets he would rather keep buried. Even Melinda Charmale had gone there, he thought with a scowl.
His original plan had been to have them arrested and accused of treason alongside Zachary, only to acquit them later—binding them to Easteford through gratitude and obligation. But now, with them evading his soldiers, the plan had backfired. He needed to rethink his strategy.
"Send a message to Yellow Jay... no, this time, go to De Gei Jaune. Let them know that the promotion season is upon them."
---
THE GUESTHOUSE
The four of them settled into the guesthouse. Jaslin, who had been unusually quiet, rushed to check around the rooms.
"There are only three rooms," she noted.
"We prepared for a couple and two singles. Is there a problem?" one of the servants asked.
"Nothing, there's no problem," Qaya answered. "Could you excuse us?"
Once they were alone, Jaslin nearly exploded. "Really? That Talmia lady... what kind of games is she playing? What guesthouse only has three rooms?"
"Calm down," Qaya intervened. "We'll share the couple's room."
"I'll go take a shower. I smell like swine," Jaslin muttered, ignoring Qaya as she walked off.
"What's wrong with her?" Qaya mumbled.
"Welp, I'm going to take a nap. Haven't had one of those in a while," Rivan said, heading to his room.
"You can say that again," Qaya called after him. Then her gaze landed on Zachary, who was sitting at a desk, scribbling away.
She tiptoed over. "What are you doing?"
Zachary hurriedly tucked away what he was writing. "What are you doing here?"
"That's not suspicious at all," she remarked.
"What?! You're suspicious of me? Of what? Treason?"
"Well, no. But I see you here in Occident Coast, on a personal, secret matter that even the king doesn't know about. Then, two days later, you're declared a traitor, and I'm incriminated with you… I'd be crazy *not* to be suspicious."
Zachary pushed himself up from his seat, visibly annoyed.
"Why is everyone acting like I'm the one at fault? Awin is obviously playing some sick game with us, and he decided to use me. I've never even thought of betraying Awin like that."
"Why? Because you're a loyal dog who can't even conceive the notion of betrayal?" Qaya shot back. "Well, it looks like you didn't grovel hard enough, because Awin just threw you to the wolves."
Zachary clenched his jaw, her words hitting a nerve. "You're clearly overstepping, Lady Heris. Regardless of the soft spot I have for you, that doesn't give you the right to berate me."
The room fell silent, the only sound of their quiet breathing. Then, as if realizing what he'd just said, Zachary's expression shifted.
"Soft spot?" Qaya echoed, confusion flickering in her eyes.
But he didn't answer. They just stared at each other, both trying desperately to break the gaze but too entranced to move.
After what felt like an eternity, Zachary, his ears flushed red, finally looked away.
"You know what? I should also take a nap."
He walked off to his room, leaving Qaya alone with this unexpected revelation.
---
To be continued