The journey to Sirentia wound through hills as soft as velvet, across untamed fields and sleeping vilges. The sky above them slowly turned to deep blues and liquid gold, while the sun followed the silent caravan in its slow march.

  Aurelian was in no hurry. He knew those roads better than he knew himself. He had traveled them a thousand times, in restless nights and days of preparation.

  He sat upright on the seat of the wagon, the hand holding the reins absentmindedly stroking the massive tail of Argaroth. His coat, thick as winter fur, shimmered under the sun as if it had been forged from snow and night.

  Lianzu sat beside him with spontaneous elegance, without any forced posture. She watched him as he guided, and from time to time, she smiled. Not like a pleased dy, but like a warrior studying a fellow fighter. "Have you made many journeys, to prepare for the Game?" she asked, breaking a long silence of wind and road.

  "Every week, for months," he replied, without taking his eyes off the path. "Every tree, every trail, every shortcut... I learned them all. I was looking for an edge. Something to fill the gap left by my house’s decline."

  Lianzu nodded slowly. "And in the end, you found it."

  Aurelian gnced at her, a half-smile on his lips. "In the end, I found you."

  She barely shook her head, but her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. Then, after a moment, she asked in a softer voice: "Tell me about Sirentia. What is it like?"

  "Ancient. A little broken, like me." He paused, his tone shifting. Calmer, more intimate. "But still beautiful. It has hidden gardens and fountains that no one listens to anymore. And it remembers. The city remembers. It remembers when our house was great... and maybe it hopes it can be again."

  "A city that hopes," Lianzu whispered. "I like that. It feels... alive."

  Silence returned for a time, broken only by Argaroth’s heavy steps on the packed earth.

  Then she spoke: "I wonder how long the organizers of the Harem Game will take to send word to my family in Yuanshi... and how long before my parents arrive in Sirentia to... meet you."

  Aurelian raised an eyebrow and huffed with a smile. "Hopefully as te as possible. That way I’ll have time to patch a few holes in the wall, polish the silver... maybe even find something decent to serve them at the table."

  "You want to impress them?"

  "I want them to see more than a fallen Var Ceshen in me." He turned toward her and added with a half-smile: "Especially your mother."

  Lianzu lowered her gaze, as if that one word — mother — carried the weight of an entire court.

  "What should I expect from her?" Aurelian asked, resting his elbow on his knee.

  Lianzu bit her lip, thoughtful. "She’s like a bde. Elegant, beautiful, but sharp in every word. She doesn’t like to lose. Nor to be surprised. And the fact that I was cimed by a man whose house is in ruins, with no alliances... won’t be a detail she overlooks."

  Aurelian nodded. Then, after a moment, asked: "And your father?"

  "He... is a man of silences. He watches. And when he speaks, every sylble weighs like a vow. But if he sees honor in you, he will stand by you. He still believes in the old pact of the Game."

  "Then I will face him. Both of them. If that’s what it takes. With honor. And with my heart in hand."

  Lianzu smiled, this time with no shadow. "Then maybe Sirentia is the right battlefield."

  And so they continued, as the sun rose higher and the hills opened into wider valleys. The wagon wheels creaked, but moved forward. Shortly before nightfall, when the sky turned red and gold among the folds of the mountains, Aurelian pulled the reins and stopped the wagon at the foot of the Rock of Varnath, a dark monolith rising near a sparse woodnd. That pce offered shelter from the wind, solid ground, and enough wood for a warm fire.

  Argaroth settled down, tired, beside a boulder, snorting as he stretched out his powerful legs.

  Aurelian climbed down from the wagon, beginning to prepare camp with the confidence of someone who had done it many times before. He gathered dry wood, dug a small pit to contain the fire, and lit the fmes with flint and steel. Once the fire was lit, he set a small iron tripod over it and hung a bckened pot. From the wagon, he pulled out a rough burp sack containing onions, roots, some salted meat, and dried spices. He sliced with measured gestures, throwing everything into the pot along with some water and a handful of lentils.

  Lianzu watched him closely, seated on a log. She too knew how to cook — her tutors and maids had taught her — but Aurelian... Aurelian cooked like someone who had learned to survive, with essential movements, little time for flourishes, but the right respect for fvor. In that moment, she realized how long that man had been alone. "I can help," she said, standing.

  Aurelian looked at her and smiled. "I’d be a fool to say no."

  She stepped closer, and together they cut herbs, tended the fire, measured the spices. The atmosphere warmed not just from the fmes, but from the tone of their voices, soft, flowing like wine poured into a cup.

  "Have you ever burned anything while cooking?" she asked.

  "Once I burned an entire pot. It was on my name-day. I was so focused on finding an old book that I forgot the meat on the fire."

  "And no one helped you?" Lianzu asked.

  Aurelian shrugged. "There was no one."

  She said nothing. But from the way she lowered her gaze to the knife slicing carrots, Aurelian knew she had understood.

  When dinner was ready, Argaroth padded over with a curious snout. The giant wolf sniffed the pot, but Aurelian shook his head. "Not for you, old friend."

  He pulled out a raw steak from the sack and tossed it to him. Argaroth caught it mid-air and y down contentedly at his master’s feet, starting to chew it with relish.

  Lianzu ughed, genuinely amused. "He acts like a puppy."

  Aurelian bent down, scratched behind his ears. "In his heart, he is."

  Then they sat down to eat. The fire crackled, and the air smelled of broth and spices. Lianzu took a spoon, tasted it, and looked surprised. "It’s delicious. Really."

  "Thanks to you, partly."