CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A Moment of reflection
Milani jolted awake as her forehead struck the edge of the table with a sharp crack. The pain was instant, a throbbing pulse that chased away the remnants of sleep. She winced, rubbing the sore spot, her eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings.
Her gaze darted toward Lenora, still fast asleep. A quiet breath of relief left her lips. Moving with care, she adjusted the fabric covering the little girl, shielding her delicate skin from the relentless bite of mosquitoes.
Satisfied, she eased herself back onto the wooden platform, mindful of every movement so as not to disturb the others. Blade lay beside her, his face serene in sleep. At least, that’s what she thought—until her fingers brushed against his hand.
Heat. A scalding, unnatural heat.
Milani’s breath hitched. His hand trembled slightly in hers, the fine tremors betraying the fever raging beneath his skin.
“Calm down, Milani. You can’t see your reflection in troubled waters.” She forced herself to breathe, to think.
Silently, she reached for one of the empty bowls the doctors had used earlier and slipped outside the tent in search of water.
A few feet away, a man and woman sat close, their hushed voices laced with emotion. When Milani approached, they turned, their expressions shifting from surprise to warmth.
“Is there anything you need, young lady?” the woman asked kindly.
Milani hesitated only for a moment before offering a polite smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. My husband is burning with fever, and my brother, who’s been working all day, is fast asleep. I just need some water to help bring the fever down.”
The woman’s smile deepened with understanding. She patted Milani’s shoulder gently before taking the bowl from her hands. “You’re no bother, dear. I’ll be right back.”
Within minutes, she returned, pressing the filled bowl into Milani’s hands.
“I hope your husband recovers quickly.”
Milani dipped her head in gratitude. “Thank you. Truly.”
She was only steps away from the tent when a sound sent ice crawling up her spine—Blade’s ragged, pained coughing. It was deep, guttural, and as she hurried inside, the sight before her made her blood run cold.
Blade was curled in on himself, his entire body wracked with tremors. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breaths sharp and shallow. A violent wheeze tore through his throat, his hand clutching his chest. And then—the unmistakable glint of crimson. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips.
The bowl clattered to the ground as Milani spun on her heel, racing outside.
She barely registered the woman’s concerned voice calling after her as she dashed toward Conir. He lay sprawled beside the camel, his back against its side, lost in the deep slumber of exhaustion.
Milani didn’t hesitate. With two sharp shakes, Conir’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong—the sound of Blade’s worsening wheezes told him everything.
Springing to his feet, he rushed into the tent. Milani followed closely behind, only to find Lenora awake, her wide, frightened eyes locked onto Blade’s trembling form.
“Take the child out,” Conir ordered, his voice firm but calm. “She shouldn’t see this.”
Milani hesitated only a second before obeying. She reached for Lenora’s hand and guided her outside, her own heart hammering against her ribs.
“How is your husband?” The woman’s voice was laced with concern as she and her husband approached.
“My brother is a doctor,” Milani assured them with a forced smile. “He’s handling it.”
Their relief was audible. “Thank goodness.”
Milani exhaled slowly. “Thank you for your kindness. I truly feel blessed.”
The woman smiled, touching Milani’s shoulder before turning to Lenora.
“This must be your daughter,” she said warmly.
Milani froze. But before she could correct the assumption, the woman knelt, taking Lenora’s small hands in hers.
“Daddy will be fine, darling. In the meantime, take care of Mommy, okay?”
Lenora’s lower lip trembled, but she nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
Milani swallowed hard. “Don’t worry, baby. Uncle will be okay.”
Lenora wiped at her eyes. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
With a deep breath, Milani led her away from the tent, guiding her toward the spot where Conir had been resting earlier. The sand was cool beneath her as she sat, pulling Lenora onto her lap, holding her close.
For a while, they simply sat in silence, the stars stretching endlessly above them.
Then, a small voice broke the quiet.
“Aunty Milani?”
“Yes, baby?”
Lenora lifted her head, their gazes meeting.
“Uncle told me… he told me you left without saying goodbye because you had something important to do.” A pause. “Did you do it?”
The question struck Milani harder than she expected. She blinked, momentarily speechless.
Blade… covered for her.
She had assumed that when he cut ties, he would sever everything—including the bond she shared with Lenora. But instead of painting her as a villain, he had shielded her in the little girl’s eyes.
Emotion tightened in her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Lenora mumbled, ducking her head. “I was just curious…”
“No, baby.” Milani smiled, gently lifting Lenora’s chin. “I was just thinking about something else entirely.”
She pulled Lenora into a tight embrace. “And yes, sweetheart. It’s all taken care of.”
The little girl sighed softly, pressing her face against Milani’s shoulder.
The night air wrapped around them, lulling them into stillness.
And before long, sleep took them both.
_____________________________________________✍
For five relentless nights, Conir and Milani had taken turns watching over Blade. Conir guarded him by day; Milani, by night. It had become their unspoken rhythm, a routine dictated by necessity rather than choice.
Though Blade’s fever still lingered, they had managed to keep it from spiraling into another heatstroke. It was a fragile balance—one they could only hope would hold.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the head of the caravan raised his voice. “We rest for the night. At dawn, we move.” His words sent the travelers scattering, each retreating to their makeshift tents.
Conir guided the camel to a slow halt, unloading its burdens with practiced ease. Nearby, Milani gently set Lenora down, the child already lost to sleep.
Moments later, Conir entered the tent, carrying two bowls. He lowered himself beside Milani, handing her one. “This is today’s porridge—the last ration. Tomorrow, we finish what’s left.”
Milani accepted it with a small smile, her gaze settling on the pale, unadorned meal. “Lenora’s growing up,” she murmured, stirring the porridge absently. “She hasn’t once complained about the food since we started this journey.”
Conir exhaled through his nose. “It can’t be easy for you—watching over the man who once tried to kill you.”
Milani arched a brow. “If Blade had truly wanted me dead, do you think you’d have been able to save me? I wouldn’t have lasted long enough for you to find me.”
Conir’s expression darkened. “I still blame myself for falling asleep that night. All those days tracking you both—wasted.”
Her eyes softened as she glanced at Blade. His face, so often a mask of indifference, seemed peaceful in sleep. “On the surface, he’s cold. Detached. A weapon forged without sentiment. But beneath it…” She traced the rim of her bowl absentmindedly. “He cares, Conir. Maybe not the way we expect, but he does.”
Conir shook his head. “He was raised an assassin, Milani. It’d be strange if he was… I don’t know, goofy and playful.”
A snort escaped her before she clamped a hand over her mouth, shaking with silent laughter.
“What?” Conir asked, bemused.
“I just—” she gasped between giggles. “I just can’t imagine Blade being goofy. That’d be the strangest thing in the world.”
Conir bumped her shoulder playfully. “You’ll wake them.”
She stifled the last of her laughter, breathing out slowly.
A moment passed before Conir asked, “Are you here for Laya’s mission or your own?”
Milani set her bowl aside. “I’ve decided to do what’s right. Even if it kills me.” Her voice was firm, unwavering.
Conir studied her for a beat, then nodded. “I’m glad.”
His expression grew thoughtful. “Are you planning to travel with the caravan to their final stop?”
“No.” Milani’s answer was immediate. “That Ripper man—he only bought us time. Hans has influence beyond borders. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I won’t endanger these people. The moment we find a village, we’ll stay behind. The caravan can continue without us.”
Conir nodded. “I spotted a village further ahead. It’s still a long way off, but you could rest there for a while.” He hesitated. “But if Hans finds you…”
Milani met his gaze. “Then I hope Blade will be strong enough to stop them. Fighting off the Brown Caders is hard enough—I can’t imagine facing an Elder.”
Conir exhaled, setting down his empty bowl. He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “Whatever happens, just make sure you’re safe. Blade’s like a cat with nine lives—he won’t die that easily. But you and Lenora? You need to be careful.”
Milani offered a small, grateful smile. “And you? What will you do after this?”
“I have an exam to take in the city,” he admitted. “If all goes well, I’ll become a doctor. Maybe even work in one of those big hospitals.”
She regarded him with something akin to admiration. “Sometimes, I envy you. You have a future—a life that isn’t dictated by survival. You can even choose who you want to spend it with.”
Conir scoffed. “You think my path is easy? Medicine demands everything. Sleepless nights. Endless pressure. Watching people die despite everything you do. Many doctors die from exhaustion alone.”
Milani studied him, then lifted her pinky. “Then let’s make a promise. You don’t die from exhaustion, and I won’t die from my colleagues’ endless schemes.”
A slow grin tugged at his lips as he hooked his pinky around hers. They held the promise for a beat before releasing, laughter bubbling between them.
___________________________________✍
The next morning, Milani and Lenora stepped out of their tent, only to find the caravan gathered in a tight cluster. Their leader stood at the center, his voice carrying across the camp.
“What’s going on?” Milani whispered to Conir as she approached.
“The master’s changing the route,” he murmured back. “Bandits up ahead.”
Her brows knitted. “How far?”
“They live in the mountains. If we stay on this path, we’ll cross right into their territory.”
Milani glanced toward the road ahead. “There’s a village nearby—”
“Yes,” the master confirmed. “It’s beyond the mountains, but reaching it would take a full day. We’d have to divert, and we won’t risk that.”
Milani took a breath, then squared her shoulders. “How much for a camel and tent?”
The master met her gaze. “Already paid for. They’re yours.”
She blinked. “Paid for?”
He nodded. “Consider it a gift.”
Milani exhaled, nodding in gratitude. “Then this is where we part ways. Thank you, Master—for everything. For keeping my family safe.” She bowed deeply.
A woman from the caravan stepped forward. “Do you have a place to go?”
Milani offered a small, reassuring smile. “Yes. We’ll stay in the village until my husband recovers.”
The woman pulled her into a tight embrace. “Then I wish you a safe journey.”
One by one, the caravan members bid their goodbyes, warm smiles accompanying their well-wishes.
Conir walked her back to her tent, his expression somber. “After today, I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”
Milani met his gaze, something unreadable passing between them. “I only hope, when we do, it’s in good health.”
He squeezed her hand once before letting go. “Be safe.”
“You too.”
And with that, she mounted the camel, Lenora seated before her, the tent trailing behind like a quiet shadow.
As she rode away, the caravan waved her off, their figures growing smaller with each step forward.
She did not look back.
Better days lay ahead. At least, that was what she chose to believe.
