Chapter 51: Under a Thousand Lights

If Leyra and I were going to disappear from an inn full of knights whose sole professional purpose was preventing us from disappearing, we needed a plan.

Fortunately, I specialized in excellent plans.

Unfortunately, my definition of excellent usually meant something that sounded funny before the consequences arrived.

We started with a piece of paper.

Leyra placed it on the outside of my room door.

DO NOT DISTURB.

Simple.

Elegant.

Suspicious as hell.

But not suspicious enough to cause immediate panic.

If we had simply vanished, the knights would have noticed within minutes.

If we locked ourselves in a room together and placed a sign outside?

Different story.

They would notice.

They would absolutely know what it probably meant.

They might even stand outside trying very hard not to imagine what it meant.

But they would also avoid knocking unless the building caught fire.

Perfect.

Nothing protected privacy quite like making armed professionals too embarrassed to investigate.

I looked at the sign.

“Subtle.”

Leyra smiled.

“That is the point.”

“The point is making them believe we're doing something inappropriate.”

She tilted her head.

“Would that be inaccurate?”

I stared.

Leyra's smile grew.

“Not eventually.”

There she was.

I laughed quietly.

“Crown Princess Leyra Goldmane, master strategist.”

“I learned from very capable people.”

“That worries me.”

Once the hallway became quiet, I activated the invisibility I had copied from Treez.

Magic spread around us.

The world didn't vanish.

We did.

At least to everyone else.

Leyra remained clearly visible to me beside the door as the spell concealed us from outside eyes.

She looked down at herself.

Then at me.

Her eyebrows lifted.

“Useful.”

“Extremely.”

“How many times have you used this to sneak somewhere you shouldn't?”

“Officially?”

Leyra smiled.

“Never mind.”

We slipped into the hallway.

Two knights stood near the stairs.

One glanced toward my door.

Saw the sign.

Then immediately looked somewhere else.

I nearly laughed.

Outstanding.

The paper shield was working.

Leyra and I moved carefully past them.

Being invisible did not remove the possibility of accidentally kicking furniture, bumping armor, or stepping on a man's boot and forcing the entire operation to end with a very awkward explanation.

We made it down the stairs.

Through the quiet common room.

Past another knight near the entrance.

Then outside.

The town of Gisda was considerably calmer at night.

Lanterns burned along the central streets.

Most shops had closed.

Taverns remained noisy in the distance, but the residential parts had settled into darkness.

We took smaller streets toward the edge of town.

Whenever someone approached, we stepped aside.

Nobody saw us.

A dog briefly sniffed in our direction and looked confused.

I pointed at it.

“Security breach.”

Leyra covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Eventually the buildings thinned.

Then ended.

We crossed into open land.

The sound of the town faded behind us.

No market voices.

No wagon wheels.

No armor.

Only wind moving through grass and the faint rush of distant water.

When we were far enough away, I released the invisibility.

The night returned us to the world.

Leyra stretched her arms.

“Much better.”

“You enjoy escaping guards too much.”

She looked at me.

“You're criticizing me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

A narrow trail led through trees toward the waterfall.

By the time we reached it, the place was almost completely dark.

No lamps.

No buildings.

No fire.

The sky provided the only real light.

Stars scattered overhead.

A thin moon hung above the forest, pale enough that it gave shapes rather than details.

The waterfall announced itself before we saw it.

Water thundered somewhere ahead.

Not enormous.

But powerful enough that the sound carried through the trees.

The trail opened into a clearing.

A river crossed it, fed by a wide waterfall spilling over a dark wall of stone.

Mist drifted near the base.

Tall grass grew along the banks.

Flowers dotted the ground in patches that looked almost black under the weak moonlight.

Leyra and I walked to the riverbank and sat near the edge.

The stone beneath me was cool.

Water moved only a few feet away.

I looked up.

Dark.

Very dark.

No fireflies.

Not one.

I waited.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Still nothing.

I turned toward Leyra.

“Please tell me the firefly story was real.”

She looked amused.

“It was.”

“You didn't invent magical insects just to lure me into a forest at night?”

“I don't need magical insects to lure you anywhere.”

Fair.

I pointed toward the sky.

“Because currently I'm seeing zero fireflies.”

“You're impatient.”

“I was promised thousands.”

Leyra laughed softly.

“They'll come.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“If this turns out to be a scheme to get me alone…”

Her smile changed.

Meaningful.

“…then what?”

I paused.

“Actually, never mind.”

Leyra raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because the fireflies weren't exactly the main reason I agreed.”

Her lips curved.

“I know.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“We do.”

Her hand moved over the stone.

Found mine.

Her fingers slipped between mine.

Warm.

I squeezed lightly.

For a while we simply sat together.

But I couldn't completely relax.

My eyes moved toward the trees.

Left.

Right.

The dark spaces between trunks.

Branches shifting in the wind.

The opposite bank.

The ridge above the waterfall.

Leyra noticed.

Of course she did.

She was watching me instead of the scenery now.

“Why do you keep looking around?”

“Checking.”

“For what?”

“People attempting to dramatically leap out of bushes with knives.”

Leyra smiled.

“That is unlikely.”

I looked at her.

“Garren literally told us assassins are being hired.”

“Yes.”

“And we're outside town without the escort.”

“Yes.”

“And your conclusion is that nobody will attack us.”

“Not yet.”

That word caught me.

“Not yet?”

Leyra looked toward the river.

“The timing would be poor.”

I waited.

Princess brain activated.

Good.

“Explain.”

She glanced toward me.

“Anyone from Inizio who wanted the negotiations to fail would gain very little by killing me here.”

“Very little?”

“They could start a war.”

“Yes.”

“But they would also immediately become suspects.”

I nodded slowly.

Leyra continued.

“We are still inside Inizio.”

“So if the crown princess is assassinated here…”

“The investigation begins here.”

Right.

“Any noble tied to the attack risks being branded a traitor.”

“Which is inconvenient.”

“Extremely.”

I smiled.

“Especially if your hobby is remaining alive.”

Leyra nodded.

“Inizio's anti-truce nobles may want negotiations ruined, but few of them would want evidence pointing directly toward themselves.”

I looked back at the trees.

“Fine.”

Then toward her.

“But what about Agranian nobles?”

Leyra's expression became more serious.

“They have more reason to wait.”

“Why?”

“Recognition.”

That wasn't the word I expected.

I frowned.

Leyra turned slightly toward me.

“Imagine the negotiations fail.”

“Okay.”

“War begins.”

“Bad start.”

“And imagine Agran wins.”

“Worse.”

“Not from the Agranian perspective.”

Fair.

Leyra continued.

“If an Agranian noble is publicly responsible for killing Inizio's crown princess during that war, especially inside Agranian territory…”

She paused.

“They could present it as loyalty.”

I understood.

“War hero.”

“Potentially.”

“Even if they hired cutthroats instead of doing it themselves.”

“History becomes flexible when the people writing it benefit.”

I laughed softly.

“That's disturbingly familiar.”

Leyra looked toward the waterfall.

“The winners shape the story afterward.”

Yeah.

Some things apparently survived across universes.

“And killing me inside their territory could be presented as defending Agran against an enemy royal.”

“Even if you're there for peace.”

“If peace fails, details become easier to rewrite.”

That was ugly.

And plausible.

Leyra continued.

“The noble responsible could gain public support.”

“Influence.”

“Yes.”

“Political power.”

“Yes.”

“Land?”

“Possibly.”

“Titles?”

“Possibly.”

I nodded.

“And if enough people praise them…”

“Queen Firsa may be forced to acknowledge that support.”

I leaned back on my hands.

“Even if she personally hates the noble.”

“Especially if public pressure becomes large enough.”

Politics.

Beautiful.

A giant machine built entirely out of ambition, fear, vanity, and people pretending all four were principles.

I sighed.

“Politics is one incredibly complicated disease.”

Leyra smiled faintly.

“I grew up studying it.”

“My condolences.”

She laughed.

Then looked upward.

Her expression changed.

“Caled.”

“Hm?”

“Look.”

I followed her gaze.

At first I saw only darkness.

Then one tiny point of green-gold light appeared above the river.

It drifted lazily.

Another appeared beside it.

Then another.

Three became ten.

Ten became dozens.

More floated from the trees.

From the grass.

From somewhere near the waterfall.

They gathered gradually, each light no larger than a spark.

Within minutes, the darkness transformed.

Hundreds of fireflies filled the air.

Then thousands.

They moved above the river like pieces of a fallen constellation refusing to stay in the sky.

Their glow reflected across the water.

Gold.

Green.

Soft amber.

The waterfall caught their light and scattered it through the mist until the entire clearing seemed covered in drifting stars.

I stared.

“Okay.”

Leyra smiled.

“Told you.”

“I retract my accusations.”

“Only some?”

“I'm still suspicious about your secondary motive.”

She squeezed my hand.

“Good.”

More fireflies gathered.

The flowers along the riverbank slowly became visible beneath their glow.

Some appeared to open wider in the cool night air, pale petals reflecting the drifting light.

Mist rolled across the river.

Fireflies floated through it.

For once, I had no joke ready.

The place was genuinely beautiful.

Quiet despite the waterfall.

Isolated.

The world beyond the clearing might as well not exist.

Then I looked at Leyra.

She was watching the fireflies.

Not me.

Not worrying about posture.

Not checking whether knights were observing her.

Not wearing the carefully controlled expression of a future queen.

Just smiling.

Peacefully.

Her face glowed softly beneath the moving lights.

Golden hair catching little flashes every time a firefly drifted nearby.

Her blue eyes reflected them.

That smile looked different from the ones she used in court.

No calculation.

No teasing.

No hidden fighter.

Just Leyra.

I watched longer than I intended.

Eventually she noticed.

Her gaze shifted toward me.

Her eyebrows pulled together.

“What?”

I looked back toward the river.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn't nothing.”

I remained quiet for a moment.

My thoughts went back to Garren.

Treez.

Viar.

Mediya.

War.

Peace.

People who wanted one.

People who profited from the other.

I watched thousands of lights floating above the water and said, “It's strange.”

Leyra waited.

“Most people want the same thing.”

“What?”

“Peace.”

Her expression softened.

I gestured vaguely toward the direction of the town.

“The knights traveling with us don't want war.”

“No.”

“Treez doesn't.”

“No.”

“Remgar doesn't.”

“Probably not.”

“Gia probably doesn't either, although getting her to confirm anything verbally might require divine intervention.”

Leyra smiled.

“Most merchants don't.”

I continued.

“Farmers definitely don't.”

“Families don't.”

“People just trying to live don't.”

Leyra nodded.

I stared across the river.

“And somehow millions of people who don't want war can still be dragged into one by a handful who do.”

Silence.

The waterfall filled it.

I continued.

“The strange part is how few people sometimes need power before everyone else starts marching.”

Leyra looked thoughtful.

“A ruler.”

“A council.”

“A few nobles.”

“A general.”

“Sometimes even one person.”

My fingers tightened gently around hers.

“And suddenly thousands of people who never hated each other are expected to start killing because somebody important decided they should.”

Leyra watched the fireflies.

“People are complicated.”

I smiled faintly.

“That's a polite word.”

“And interesting.”

“Also polite.”

She looked at me.

Her smile returned.

“Would you rather everyone be simple?”

“Yes.”

Leyra laughed.

“No, you wouldn't.”

“True.”

“Perhaps people being complicated is what makes peace difficult.”

“And worth having.”

She nodded.

I squeezed her hand again.

Then looked at her.

The fireflies continued drifting behind her.

Perfect timing.

Almost suspiciously perfect.

“Has anyone ever told you you're extremely beautiful?”

Leyra stared.

Then laughed softly.

“That question?”

“Yes.”

“Many times.”

I sighed.

“My originality has been destroyed.”

“I stopped counting years ago.”

“Painful.”

She turned more fully toward me.

“But…”

Her voice softened.

“…you're the only one I believe.”

That hit harder than expected.

I blinked.

Leyra looked almost embarrassed after saying it.

I smiled.

Then leaned toward her.

No rush.

No joke.

Our lips touched.

Soft.

A short kiss.

Warm enough that I felt her smile against me before we separated.

Leyra remained close.

Her forehead almost touched mine.

“The problems are ahead of us.”

I looked toward the dark forest beyond the waterfall.

“A lot of them.”

“Tomorrow we continue toward Agran.”

“Queen Firsa.”

“Assassins.”

“Politics.”

“Potential war.”

I sighed.

“Very romantic itinerary.”

Leyra's smile grew.

“But not tonight.”

I looked back at her.

“For tonight…”

She glanced toward the river.

“…let's enjoy this.”

I smirked.

That word.

Enjoy.

Very broad definition.

“I have several ideas.”

Leyra's eyes narrowed playfully.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

I looked her over slowly.

“Most involve less clothing.”

Her face warmed.

But she smiled.

There was no shock anymore.

No shy retreat.

She knew exactly what I meant.

“Look away.”

I stared.

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because I told you to.”

“Strong argument.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Princess authority.

Fine.

I sighed dramatically.

Then turned around.

Behind me, Leyra stood.

Grass rustled beneath her feet.

Fabric moved.

One piece of clothing landed softly on the ground.

Then another.

I kept looking toward the trees.

Mostly.

Temptation tried to negotiate.

I refused.

Gentleman status remained alive by a thread.

Then I heard footsteps entering the river.

A soft splash.

Water shifting.

Another splash.

Leyra moved deeper.

Then her voice came.

“You may look now.”

Finally.

I turned.

Leyra stood in the river.

The water reached almost to the top of her chest.

Her golden hair fell over bare shoulders.

Fireflies drifted around her.

Their lights reflected across the moving surface, sometimes illuminating the shape beneath it just enough to make imagination extremely active.

She looked ridiculous.

Not bad ridiculous.

Unfair ridiculous.

Like someone had taken a painting, given it excellent breasts, and decided I should develop discipline.

I stood.

“May I join you?”

Leyra smiled.

“Maybe.”

I stopped.

“Maybe?”

“Yes.”

I pointed at the river.

“You invited me here.”

“I did.”

“You removed your clothes.”

“I did.”

“You entered the water.”

“Yes.”

“And now entry requires approval.”

“Correct.”

I stared.

“This attraction has terrible management.”

Leyra laughed.

I crossed my arms.

“What are the conditions?”

“One question.”

Ah.

Danger.

I knew that tone.

“What question?”

Leyra hesitated.

Just briefly.

Then her expression became more serious.

“How does a Spriggan know Light Buster?”

My smile vanished.

Not completely.

But enough.

The waterfall suddenly sounded louder.

Leyra watched me carefully.

She continued.

“Not a similar light attack.”

Her blue eyes sharpened.

“Light Buster.”

I said nothing.

She had never seen me use it during the battle.

She had not been there.

But reports existed.

Descriptions.

And Leyra knew the technique better than anyone.

Because it was hers.

I smiled slowly.

“So that's what this is.”

Leyra raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You're holding river access hostage in exchange for classified information.”

“I prefer negotiation.”

“This is extortion with nudity.”

“Is it working?”

I stared at her.

Then sighed.

“Yes.”

Leyra giggled.

But her eyes remained focused.

She already knew.

That was obvious now.

This wasn't really a question.

It was confirmation.

I pointed at her.

“You figured it out.”

Leyra's smile became satisfied.

“You thought I wouldn't?”

I tilted my head.

“Most people haven't.”

“Most people were not trained by Zeria.”

There it was.

I laughed quietly.

“Of course.”

Leyra looked extremely pleased with herself.

“You forgot who taught me to observe people.”

“I didn't forget.”

“You underestimated how much she taught me.”

“Apparently.”

Leyra rested her arms along the surface of the water.

“When reports reached us describing the battle, several details interested me.”

“Only several?”

“Many.”

Fair.

“But one stood out.”

“Light Buster.”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“I created it.”

“I know.”

“No formal academy teaches it.”

“I know.”

“I never taught it to you.”

“Also true.”

“And yet a diplomat who supposedly had no combat training used something described almost exactly like my technique.”

I shrugged.

“Coincidence.”

Leyra narrowed her eyes.

“Caled.”

“Worth trying.”

She laughed.

Then continued.

“That alone would have made me suspicious.”

“Only suspicious?”

“Yes.”

“What changed it?”

She looked directly at me.

“You.”

Very specific.

“Helpful.”

“The way you learn.”

Ah.

Leyra shifted slightly in the water.

“When I began teaching you history, customs, court behavior, dancing, diplomacy…”

She paused.

“…you learned too quickly.”

I smiled.

“Talented.”

“Absurdly quickly.”

“Extremely talented.”

She ignored me.

“Sometimes I deliberately changed the way I taught.”

Interesting.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“I would introduce something once and intentionally avoid explaining it again.”

I stared.

“You were testing me.”

Leyra smiled.

“You noticed many things.”

“Apparently not that.”

“That was the point.”

Fair.

She continued.

“I tested how quickly you recognized patterns.”

“How quickly you remembered physical movements.”

“How much you could reproduce after seeing something only once.”

I nodded slowly.

“And?”

“The results were ridiculous.”

I placed a hand over my heart.

“Another compliment.”

Leyra smiled.

“Then I remembered what Zeria taught me about legends of humans.”

There it was.

Not proof.

Connection.

“Humans were said to learn anything they observed.”

“Yes.”

“And you…”

She paused.

“…kept learning anything you observed.”

I smiled.

“Very inconvenient habit.”

“Then came the battle report.”

“Light Buster.”

Leyra nodded.

“That was when suspicion became something much stronger.”

I studied her.

“How long have you known?”

Her smile softened.

“I suspected while teaching you.”

“That early?”

“Yes.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I wasn't certain.”

Smart.

“And once you became certain?”

Leyra looked at me.

“I wanted you to tell me yourself.”

That landed differently.

No anger.

No accusation.

Just patience.

I remembered Nemris.

Her suspicion.

Her tests.

Her need to hear it from me too.

Apparently the Goldmane sisters shared a hobby of quietly investigating me until my fake identity resembled cheese after meeting mice.

I smiled.

“Zeria taught you well.”

Leyra's expression became smug.

“She did.”

Then she raised one hand.

Curled one finger toward herself.

“Come here.”

I looked down at my clothes.

Then at her.

“So I passed the interrogation?”

“For now.”

“Excellent.”

I removed my clothes.

No reason for dramatic modesty after everything Leyra and I had already done.

Shirt.

Pants.

Everything else.

I left them beside hers on the grass.

Then entered the river.

Cold.

Not freezing.

But significantly cooler than the spring bath from the previous night.

I inhaled sharply.

Leyra laughed.

“Cold?”

“No.”

“You made a sound.”

“I was expressing enthusiasm.”

“Of course.”

I moved toward her.

Water rose around my legs.

Waist.

Stomach.

Then chest.

Leyra waited.

Fireflies floated behind her.

When I reached her, she lifted both arms.

Wrapped them around my neck.

Her body pressed against mine beneath the water.

Warm compared with the river.

I placed my hands against her waist.

Leyra leaned closer and gave me a short kiss.

Soft.

Almost innocent.

Very suspicious considering why we had come here.

When she pulled away, I looked at her.

“So.”

“Hm?”

“How long exactly?”

She knew what I meant.

Leyra thought about it.

I sighed.

“When did you decide I was definitely human?”

Leyra's expression became thoughtful.

“The report from Dahera made it nearly impossible to explain otherwise.”

“Because of one skill?”

“Not only one.”

She studied my face.

“But Light Buster made it personal.”

That made sense.

Anyone could hear Caled used light magic and shrug.

Leyra hearing that I used her personally created technique?

Different.

She knew exactly how specific it was.

“You recognized it from words alone.”

“I know my own ability.”

“Fair.”

Leyra smiled.

“And once I compared that with everything else…”

“Human.”

“Yes.”

I laughed quietly.

“At this rate my secret will eventually become the kingdom's least secret secret.”

Leyra tilted her head.

“I won't tell anyone.”

I looked at her.

No hesitation.

No bargaining.

Just fact.

“I know.”

Her expression softened.

“I don't care whether you're Spriggan or human.”

“Good.”

“I care that you trusted me enough not to lie when I finally asked.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I haven't technically confessed.”

Leyra stared.

I smiled.

“Fine.”

She waited.

I leaned toward her.

Whispered near her lips.

“I'm human.”

Leyra smiled.

Satisfied.

“There.”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Wonderful. International crisis solved.”

She laughed softly.

Then her mouth came beside my ear.

Her breath warmed my skin.

“But…”

I raised an eyebrow.

“But?”

Her voice lowered.

“We did not sneak out here to discuss your race.”

Ah.

Right.

Priorities.

Leyra pressed closer.

Her lips almost brushed my ear as she continued.

“We came here because you're supposed to make me happy.”

I smiled.

“Supposed to?”

“Yes.”

“You make it sound like an assignment.”

“It is.”

“Do I get graded?”

Leyra pulled back.

Her cheeks had turned faintly red.

But desire had already replaced most embarrassment.

“You haven't even started.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And I'm becoming impatient.”

There she was.

I laughed.

“Princess, you are extremely demanding.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

I slid both hands around her hips.

“Then let's have some fun.”

I pulled her toward me.

Leyra's body met mine beneath the water.

Her arms tightened around my neck.

And the smile that spread across her face was pure satisfaction.