Chapter 72
A scouring sandstorm blew through Tazan one afternoon in early spring, blanketing the city in dust and leaving many of its residents coughing and congested in the days that followed. Kelan and Astrid saw an opportunity not only to help their neighbors but to quietly put Kelan's refined techniques into practice on a broader scale.
On the morning announced for the community remedy, a small crowd gathered in the courtyard just outside their shop. Men and women from the quarter—shopkeepers, laborers, mothers with children—arrived with sand-roughened throats and stuffy chests. Astrid had spread word the previous day that the Grey Healer was preparing a free inhalation treatment for anyone troubled by the post-storm ailments.
In the center of the courtyard, Kelan had set up a wide clay brazier over a bed of hot coals. On it simmered a large pot filled with water, herbs, and spices. Tendrils of fragrant steam curled into the air, carrying the sharp, cleansing notes of eucalyptus and mint mingled with the warmth of cinnamon and thyme.
"Gather round, everyone," Kelan said kindly. He had abandoned his usual modesty about attention for this controlled setting, knowing it was best to appear confidently in charge. "We'll breathe in the steam—it will help clear the lungs and ease the cough."
Astrid moved through the crowd, distributing clean cloths dabbed with aromatic balm for people to drape over their heads, capturing the healing vapors. A few children giggled at the sight of their parents with cloth-covered faces, but soon even they fell quiet as the soothing aroma began to work.
Kelan stood by the steaming pot, a light scarf around his own face to ward off the worst of the heat and scent. He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself as he had each morning at dawn. Then he began to hum.
The melody he chose was simple and repetitive—a gentle desert lullaby known to many there. In fact, a couple of the older women in the group recognized it and added their own soft voices, turning his solo humming into a quiet chorus. Kelan smiled and encouraged others to join in if they wished. Soon a low harmonic song hummed through the courtyard, blending with the herb-laced steam in a calming embrace.
As he hummed, Kelan subtly extended his awareness through the crowd. He couldn't heal every cough outright in a single sweep without drawing suspicion, but he could do something better: help their bodies heal themselves. The combined effect of the herbs, the warm moisture, and the resonant song did much of the visible work. Unseen, Kelan gently lent a touch of his psychic energy here and there—a nudge to strengthen one man's breathing, a whisper to soothe a little girl's inflamed throat, an encouraging warmth to bolster an elderly woman's immune vigor.
The atmosphere in the courtyard shifted from one of discomfort to one of communal relief. People began breathing easier, their exhalations turning from ragged to relaxed. The tension melted from faces as tight chests loosened. They hummed together as if the song itself were a medicine.
After a good quarter hour, Kelan gradually drew the session to a close. He slowly stopped humming and lifted the lid off the steaming pot to signal the treatment's end. One by one, the townsfolk removed the cloths from their heads. Faces emerged with eyes bright from the steam and, in many cases, grateful smiles.
A middle-aged baker named Harun took a deep breath and laughed in surprise. "By the sands, I can breathe clear again!" he exclaimed, thumping his chest.
Beside him, his wife nodded, looking a bit astonished. "The tightness is gone," she agreed. She shot Kelan an appreciative look. "Your herbs are a blessing, Master Healer."
"And the song," added the grandmother who had hummed along. "We mustn't forget the power of a good desert song to chase off illness." Her remark prompted approving murmurs and a few chuckles.
Kelan inclined his head humbly. "The credit is yours as much as mine. Healing works best when we all take part in it—herbs, steam, and a shared song."
Astrid stepped forward with a tray of cool water and small cups, and began passing them around to the flush-faced participants. As neighbors sipped and chatted, the general consensus was that the Grey Healer's remedy had worked wonders. Some even claimed they felt better than before the storm.
Kelan watched these interactions with a warm glow of contentment in his chest. There was no fanfare, no awe-struck reverence—just genuine thanks and the comfortable camaraderie of neighbors helping neighbors. He had managed to do something truly meaningful here, and yet to an outside eye it appeared perfectly ordinary.
After distributing some packets of spice-infused tea for people to take home (to continue easing their throats), Kelan and Astrid gently ushered the gathering out as the sun climbed toward noon. Work waited for each of them, after all, and now they could return to it breathing freely.
Harun the baker was the last to leave, insisting on pressing a loaf of fresh date bread into Astrid's hands as thanks. "You two take this and enjoy it," he said cheerfully. "Small payment for big help."
When the courtyard finally emptied, Kelan and Astrid tidied up together. Astrid poured the remaining herbal water over the courtyard's lone palm tree—a bit of extra nourishment so nothing went to waste. Kelan wiped down the used cloths and set them to dry.
Inside the shop, it was quiet again. They sat at the counter, sharing slices of the sweet bread with goat cheese. A shaft of golden midday light slanted through the high window, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air.
Astrid broke the silence, "Days like this make me realize how much we've become part of this community."
Kelan nodded, savoring the soft, spiced bread. "It's a good feeling," he admitted. "To be accepted, to be useful here without causing a stir."
Astrid's eyes were gentle as she regarded him. "No one blinked at the humming," she said. "They joined in. Healing and song together—it felt… natural."
"It was natural," Kelan agreed. He took a slow breath, still scented with traces of eucalyptus. "I don't think I could have imagined this a year ago—that I'd be here, doing something like this so openly yet peacefully."
Astrid reached over and brushed a crumb from Kelan's beard with affectionate familiarity. "And doing it well," she added.
He chuckled. "It certainly wasn't just me out there. You organized half of it."
They exchanged a fond look, one that spoke of shared effort and shared purpose.
Astrid then tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. "I noticed you didn't even hesitate to hum in front of everyone."
A mild flush crept to Kelan's cheeks as he remembered a time when he might have been self-conscious about such a display. "I was too busy focusing on healing to worry about it," he said. "Besides, in a group like that, it felt… safe."
Astrid nodded. "It was. You made it safe."
They finished their simple meal and spent the early afternoon tending to a few regular customers. Business was steady but not hectic—just as they liked it. A young mother came for more teething tea for her infant; an elderly man came to show Kelan how well his injured hand had healed under Kelan's care, wiggling his fingers with glee. Each interaction was its own quiet reward.
By sunset, the shop was closed and a serene hush fell over the quarter. Kelan stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as neighbors lit lamps in their windows one by one. The sky was a brilliant wash of oranges and purples. Somewhere, a lone musician plucked a lute, the melody floating gentle on the evening breeze.
Astrid came up beside Kelan, slipping her arm around his waist. They didn't need to speak. Together they gazed at the scene—ordinary and beautiful in its simplicity.
Kelan felt Astrid rest her head against his shoulder, and he exhaled in contentment. He remained ever aware that life could change again—perhaps swiftly and without warning. But that awareness no longer poisoned his enjoyment of the present. It merely enriched it, reminding him to be grateful.
He closed the door, and Astrid locked it behind them. In the privacy of their quiet home, Kelan allowed himself a final moment of reflection. They had come so far on a journey filled with uncertainty and danger to arrive at this gentle place. Every day of peace here was a day earned by vigilance and wisdom.
"Good night, Kelan," Astrid whispered as she headed to douse the lamps.
Kelan looked around the dimly lit shop—at the neat rows of remedy jars, the snug chairs where countless lives had been comforted, the walls that sheltered their secrets—and finally back at Astrid, his partner in all things.
"Good night, Astrid," he replied softly.
As darkness settled in, Tazan's desert song—distant music and the hush of wind over sand—sang them into another peaceful night. And Kelan found, as he did each night beneath these foreign stars, that he was content. The world beyond might still hold its perils and its powers, but here in this small haven, he and Astrid had all they needed: purpose, love, quiet vigilance, and the promise of tomorrow at dawn.
Chapter 11
Kelan woke to the first light of dawn filtering through the latticed window of their small house in Tazan. The air was already warm and dry, carrying the faint scent of sand and spices from the evening market. He lay still for a moment on the thin mattress, listening to the city awaken. In the distance, a muezzin's call echoed softly from a minaret, a gentle reminder of the desert city's ancient rhythm. Kelan found the sound comforting; it meant another peaceful morning – or so he hoped.
He rose quietly, careful not to disturb Astrid in the next room. Their home was modest: two rooms around a shaded courtyard no larger than a camel's footprint. A cracked ceramic basin in the courtyard held water drawn from the neighborhood well, and a scraggly palm leaned over the wall, offering a bit of shade. Kelan splashed the cool water on his face. The shock of it chased the last dregs of sleep from his mind.
By the time he had dressed in a light linen shirt and the loose trousers favored by Tazan's locals, Astrid emerged from her room. She wore a simple sand-colored tunic belted at the waist, her blonde hair tied up under a sheer scarf to keep out the dust. Even in plain attire, she stood out; the early sun caught the loose strands of her hair, making them shine like spun gold. Kelan smiled at her and handed over a small clay cup of tea he had steeped. It was a habit they'd picked up here – strong black tea with mint to start the day, a practical comfort against the dryness of the desert air.
Astrid thanked him quietly and took a sip. They didn't need many words in the morning; comfort lay in routine and in each other's presence. Kelan watched her gaze drift to the patch of sky visible above the courtyard wall. In that pale blue expanse there were no signs yet of the heat to come. For now, it was cool enough to be pleasant.
"I'll head to the market early," Kelan said, breaking the silence. "Old Harun said he'd save some fresh dates for us."
Astrid nodded. "I'll join you shortly. I want to get some practice in before the streets get busy." Her voice was calm but determined, as it always was when she spoke of training. In Tazan's peace, Astrid had committed to honing her magical combat skills. Each morning, at the edge of the city, she practiced forms and spells as the sun rose, when the air was still gentle.
"Be careful not to draw too many eyes," Kelan said mildly. It was a reminder they both understood. Astrid's abilities were growing, and with growth came risk of exposure. Though sorcery was not forbidden in Tazan, open displays of power drew attention – something they had tried to avoid since arriving.
Astrid offered a small smile. "I'll keep it subtle. Just drills and control exercises, nothing flashy."
Kelan nodded, satisfied. They finished their tea and simple breakfast of flatbread and goat cheese together, standing by the courtyard's water basin. Kelan savored these small moments – the scrape of pottery, the crunch of bread, the way Astrid's eyes softened when they met his. For months now they had lived quietly in Tazan, carving out a life of modest routines. It was a life Kelan cherished, worlds apart from the turmoil of their past travels. Here, he was simply a healer with a minor gift, and Astrid was an aspiring mage finding her way. That was the image they presented, and mostly, the city accepted it.
The streets were still calm when Kelan stepped outside. Sandstone buildings cast long shadows in the early light. He made his way through narrow alleyways towards the bazaar, passing neighbors already sweeping doorsteps and setting out wares. He greeted those he knew with a polite nod or a quiet "Salaam." Over weeks of tending to illnesses and injuries in this quarter, he had earned goodwill. Mothers would wave, children occasionally ran up to show a healed scrape or bruise that Kelan had treated days before. He would smile and gently remind them to be careful.
At the open-air market, the day's bustle was just beginning. Merchants arranged piles of dates, figs, and pomegranates, and the aroma of fresh bread drifted from a baker's stall. Kelan moved through the gathering crowd with practiced ease. He stopped at Harun's spice stand first. The old man was grinding dried peppermint leaves with a mortar and pestle.
"Ah, good morning, my friend," Harun greeted, looking up. His face was deeply lined by sun and years, but his eyes were bright. "I have what you asked for." He reached under the counter and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in palm leaf – inside were plump dates, still sticky with syrupy sweetness.
"Thank you." Kelan smiled and passed a couple of copper coins to the merchant. Harun had refused payment the first time Kelan treated his arthritic knee, but Kelan insisted on fair trade. Over time, they settled into an understanding. Harun took the coins and tapped Kelan's arm kindly.
"How is the knee today?" Kelan asked quietly.
Harun flexed his leg with only a slight wince. "Better than it has any right to be at my age," he chuckled. "Thanks to you. Those salves you mix do wonders."
Kelan inclined his head in modest acknowledgment. He wouldn't mention that more than salve had eased the old man's pain – a gentle push of Kelan's healing gift had mended strained ligaments during one of their sessions. But it was easier for Harun and others to attribute their relief to herbs and skillful hands than to anything inexplicable. Kelan preferred it that way. Let them think him a talented herbalist; it kept the curious at bay.
They spoke a little more – Harun gossiped about a caravan arriving from the north with fine silk and about the city's latest petition to the Emir regarding a new well. Kelan listened politely, storing away bits of news. As he thanked Harun and moved on, he remained unaware that a pair of eyes followed him from across the bazaar.
Not far from the spice stand, a man in a dark blue cloak watched with keen interest. He had noted how the local vendors greeted Kelan with warmth. An outsider, clearly, judging by his northern looks and name, yet accepted here – that was unusual. The cloaked man stroked his neat goatee thoughtfully. Lord Amin's informants had mentioned a foreign healer of growing repute in the poorer quarters. Perhaps this was the one. The man smiled to himself and vanished into the crowd, intent on reporting back to his master.
By the time Kelan returned home with the dates and a few other staples, the sun was higher and the city's pace had quickened. He found Astrid in the courtyard, toweling off sweat from her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and a few escaped strands of hair clung to her brow. She looked up as he entered and gave a small triumphant grin.
"How did practice go?" he asked, stepping into the shade.
Astrid picked up a half-empty waterskin and took a long drink before answering. "Well. I focused on precision today—control and aim." She nodded toward a row of clay pots lined against the far courtyard wall. Kelan noticed that each pot bore a scorch mark or a small crack, as if they'd been struck by something hot. None were shattered, however.
"Good," he said. It meant she had been restraining her power to avoid breaking them entirely. The evidence of char suggested small firebolts or concentrated heat. Subtle enough that passing neighbors wouldn't notice, especially if Astrid practiced at the edge of town as she often did. "No mishaps?"
Astrid shook her head. "No, my illusions held stable, and I kept the flames tight. No stray sparks on anyone's roof this time." She gave a wry smile.
Kelan chuckled softly. Early on, one of her fire projections had sent a drift of embers onto a nearby shed, almost causing a blaze. Fortunately, Kelan had been there to stamp it out, and no one had traced it back to them. It had been a lesson in caution.
"Progress, then," he said encouragingly. He handed her a date from the bundle. She bit into it, humming appreciatively at the rich sweetness.
They rested a short while, sharing the fruit in companionable silence. The city was fully awake now. Beyond their courtyard walls, Kelan could hear the distant bray of donkeys and the calls of street vendors hawking breakfast porridge and fried dough. A warm breeze carried the smells of cumin and fried onions – someone preparing a midday meal early. With the rising sun, the heat would soon grow intense enough to make the streets drowsy, but for now, life hummed.
Kelan had patients to see soon – a few townsfolk knew he'd be at the herbalist's corner by late morning, offering his remedies and care. Astrid usually accompanied him or visited the adjacent training yards where city guards sparred; of late she'd been observing the soldiers practice sword drills, picking up footwork tips to blend with her magic.
That morning, however, an unexpected knock sounded at their door. Kelan and Astrid exchanged a quick glance. Few visited them at home unannounced, especially at this hour.
Kelan stood and made his way to the front door – a simple wooden plank that opened onto the alley. He lifted the latch and pulled it open to find a young boy, perhaps twelve years old, clad in a short robe cinched with an ornate sash. The boy's wide eyes and hesitant stance suggested he was a servant on an errand.
"Master Kelan?" the boy asked timidly, eyes flicking up at Kelan's taller frame.
Kelan nodded gently. "I am Kelan. What is it, child?"
The boy bowed quickly, as was expected when a servant delivered a message. "My lord – Lord Amin – requests your presence, sir. His daughter is very sick. He heard of a foreign healer in the city who could help... and... and someone pointed to your name." The words tumbled out in a rehearsed rush.
Kelan's brows lifted in surprise. He knew of Lord Amin vaguely – a minor noble who lived in the eastern quarter of Tazan. They had never met, and Kelan wondered how the noble had come by his name. Likely through someone Kelan had treated; good deeds often traveled by whispers through back channels to the highborn who had need. He suppressed a sigh. He never sought out the nobility's attention precisely for this reason – it complicated life. But a sick child… he could not in good conscience refuse.
Behind him, Astrid had stepped forward silently, listening. He could sense her concern without looking.
"Of course," Kelan said to the boy at last. "Take me to Lord Amin's household. I will do what I can."
The boy visibly exhaled in relief and nodded. "He sent a carriage, sir. It waits at the main road."
Kelan glanced back at Astrid. Her gray-blue eyes met his, questioning. "I'm coming with you," she said softly, brooking no argument. They both knew that if he went alone into a noble's house, there could be risks – not necessarily out of malice, but even misunderstanding or protocol could be tricky. And if something was truly wrong, Astrid's presence would be a comfort and possibly an asset.
Kelan gave her a slight nod of gratitude. He took a leather satchel from inside and hurriedly filled it with some standard remedies – dried willow bark for fever, a small packet of crushed eldar root for pain, clean bandages, a stoppered clay vial of his strongest healing draught. While his most potent healing came from within, these tools were part of the facade and often useful on their own.
They locked the door behind them and followed the servant boy through winding lanes toward the main thoroughfare. Kelan kept his face composed, but inside his mind worked over possibilities. The servant had said very sick. In a city like Tazan, that could mean anything from a sudden desert fever to a lingering flux. Did Lord Amin seek him because conventional remedies failed? Or was it desperation grabbing at rumors? He felt a slight twist of anxiety – he did not want to draw noble notice, yet how could he decline a child in need?
The clatter of hoofbeats drew Kelan from his thoughts. Indeed, a small covered carriage waited by the road, a driver holding the reins of a pair of dappled horses. The vehicle was modest but well-crafted – the wood polished and etched with geometric patterns. Likely a household carriage, not the Emir's regal kind but still beyond the means of commoners.
The servant boy opened the carriage door for them. "Please, sirs— and lady," he added belatedly with a shy glance at Astrid, "my lord said to bring you with haste."
Astrid managed a reassuring smile at the boy as she climbed in after Kelan. The door shut, and at a word from the boy to the driver, the carriage lurched into motion. Through the window slats, Kelan watched the narrow homes of their district give way to broader avenues and larger estates. The city's nobility dwelt in manors that clustered near the Emir's palace at Tazan's heart, where ancient walls enclosed lush gardens fed by the oasis.
As they traveled, he felt Astrid's hand slide next to his on the seat, her pinky finger briefly hooking around his. It was a small gesture hidden in the shadows of the carriage's interior, but it spoke volumes. She was with him, whatever awaited.
Kelan allowed himself a slow, steadying breath. He would help the child, he resolved. And he would try to do so without revealing more of his power than necessary. If fortune smiled, this would be just another healing, and they would return home to their quiet life by afternoon.
But as the carriage rolled on, Kelan couldn't shake a faint unease. A request from a noble was never just a simple errand. This felt like the first ripple of a stone cast into still water, heralding changes in the currents of their life in Tazan. He only hoped they were prepared for whatever those ripples might become.
Chapter 12
The carriage rattled through Tazan's upscale avenues, passing high garden walls and ornate gates. Kelan peered out discreetly. This district was a world apart from their humble quarter: broad, swept streets and tall sandstone manors with carved lattice balconies, each enclosing lush gardens hidden behind white walls.
Before long, the carriage turned under an archway of carved stone and rolled to a gentle stop in a tiled courtyard. Servants in crisp linen tunics approached as Kelan and Astrid stepped out. Despite the mounting heat of midday, the air inside the manor's open doors felt cooler. A small fountain bubbled nearby, the trickle of water echoing in the quiet.
A thin man in a burgundy robe hurried out to meet them—the steward, by his demeanor. He bowed respectfully. "Master Kelan, Lady Astrid, welcome. This way, please. Lord Amin awaits."
They followed the steward through a tiled entry hall into a dim, cool chamber. The scent of incense lingered in the air. Lord Amin met them at the threshold of an inner room, worry etched on his handsome, middle-aged face. Dressed in a cream-colored kaftan, he managed a tense greeting. Beside him stood his wife, Lady Farah, her hands clasped under her chin in anxious prayer.
"Thank you for coming," Lord Amin said, voice tight with hope and desperation as he dipped his head in greeting. "Our daughter..."
"Take me to her," Kelan replied gently.
They entered the sickroom, where heavy drapes muted the daylight. On a low bed lay a girl of perhaps eleven years, sweat-matted hair against her forehead. A maid knelt beside her, sponging her face with tepid water. The child's breaths were quick and shallow, each a struggle.
Kelan went to the bedside and took the girl's hand. Her skin was burning. "How long has she been feverish?" he asked quietly.
"Three days," Lady Farah answered, her voice trembling. "She won't eat or drink. She murmurs in delirium. The palace physician said it might be the wasting fever..." Her words caught, unable to voice the worst.
Kelan laid a palm lightly on the girl's brow, as if checking temperature. In truth, he was extending his healing senses inward. He could feel the raging heat of infection consuming her, fluid rattling in her lungs. It was dire—without intervention, the child might not last another day.
"I will do all I can," he murmured. From his satchel he drew a small clay vial. "A fever draught, to ease her." In reality the tincture was mild, but it would serve as cover for what he was about to do.
Astrid helped lift the girl's head so Kelan could drip a little of the liquid between her cracked lips. The child barely swallowed, but some went down. Kelan then placed one hand over her heart, the other on her forehead, and closed his eyes to concentrate. Drawing a deep breath, he let the energy within him flow.
He pictured a cool river quenching a wildfire. Gently, he sent a pulse of healing warmth into the girl's body, guiding it to fight the infection. He nudged strength back into her faltering heart and lungs, steadily lowering the cruel fever. It was delicate, meticulous work; Kelan dared not unleash his full power, only just enough to tip the balance toward life.
Minutes passed in heavy silence. A bead of sweat rolled down Kelan's temple from the effort. He felt Astrid's hand rest on his back, a silent reassurance lending him focus. Gradually, under his hands, the child's breathing deepened. The rigidity in her muscles eased. Color crept back into her cheeks.
At last, the girl's eyes fluttered open. "Mama?" she croaked, voice weak but conscious.
A sob of relief burst from Lady Farah. She rushed to her daughter's side, taking the girl's hand from Kelan. "I'm here, Alia, my precious. I'm here." Tears streamed down the mother's face, her earlier composure utterly broken by relief.
Lord Amin let out a breath that was almost a sob. He clasped Kelan's shoulder abruptly. "You… you've done it. She's awake." He seemed almost afraid to believe it, as if the fever might return the moment he celebrated.
Kelan managed a modest smile, though he was weary from the exertion. "She is not entirely out of danger yet, my lord," he cautioned gently. "We must keep her cool and rested. But the worst of the fever has passed."
As Lady Farah peppered her daughter with soft questions—how do you feel, are you thirsty—Kelan quietly checked the girl's pulse again. It was stronger. She was indeed past the crisis. Alia responded in a small voice that her throat hurt and she was thirsty. These were normal complaints, thank the fates.
A serving girl was immediately dispatched to fetch watered pomegranate juice and broth. Lord Amin drew Kelan aside as the family fussed over Alia. The noble's eyes shone with gratitude. "Master Kelan, I am in your debt. I cannot express… If not for you—" His voice caught, and he bowed his head deeply. "Anything you ever need, you shall have it. I will see to it that you are rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."
"That isn't necessary, my lord," Kelan said quickly, slightly uncomfortable with the effusive praise. "I'm just glad I could help. Seeing her recover is the only reward I need." He meant it sincerely. If there was one thing Kelan never doubted, it was the fulfillment he found in healing others.
Lord Amin would not be dissuaded entirely. "Nevertheless, you must at least allow me to gift you something as thanks." He paused, then gestured for his steward, who hovered nearby. "Have the chest in my study brought here."
"My lord, really—" Kelan began, but Amin raised a hand kindly.
"Don't argue. A craftsman deserves his due, and you have crafted a miracle this day." Amin spoke firmly, then his expression softened as he glanced to where Lady Farah was cradling their daughter's head, tears of relief still glistening on her cheeks. "My Alia is the light of our lives. You saved her. Please."
Kelan relented with a nod. He understood it was important for the noble to show gratitude in a tangible way, both for honor and perhaps to soothe the lingering fear that had gripped him. "As you wish, my lord."
In the meantime, Lady Farah approached, her hand lightly on Astrid's arm. "Thank you, both of you," she said, voice hushed but fervent. She met Astrid's gaze, including her clearly in the appreciation. "You assisted as well, I saw. You must be a skilled healer in your own right?"
Astrid shook her head modestly. "I only helped him administer the medicine and care for Alia. Kelan is the healer." She glanced at Kelan with a small, proud smile.
Lady Farah looked between them. "Are you two…?" The question hung politely unfinished, but her meaning was clear. In a city like Tazan, a man and woman traveling and living together would naturally invite assumptions.
Kelan stepped in to spare Astrid discomfort. "We are partners, my lady," he said. "In life and in our travels. I could not do what I do without her support." It was an honest answer that conveyed their closeness without delving into private details. Astrid's smile at him and the gentle way she continued to rub the little girl's back likely answered any remaining doubt for Lady Farah.
Before more could be said, two servants arrived carrying a small ornate chest of dark cedarwood. At a nod from Lord Amin, they opened it to reveal rows of coins and several pieces of jewelry that caught the light. Gold and silver gleamed invitingly. It was an extravagant reward, far more than any service Kelan had ever charged. He felt a flush of embarrassment—he had no wish to take such wealth. Not only did it feel unearned for what he saw as his duty, but flaunting sudden riches could only draw more notice to them.
"My lord, this is too generous…" Kelan began, eyes widening slightly at the contents.
Lord Amin shook his head. "Nonsense. If anything, it is insufficient. Please, I insist. Use it to better your practice, or even move to a more comfortable home. Tazan could use a healer of your caliber in a proper clinic." Amin's tone was genuine, even a bit pleading.
Kelan exchanged a glance with Astrid. He read the same caution in her eyes that he felt. But refusing outright might offend. With a slow breath, Kelan reached into the chest. He took a single gold coin and a modest silver bracelet inlaid with turquoise. "This is more than generous," he said respectfully. "These tokens will suffice. With them I can procure more supplies and continue helping others."
Lord Amin frowned in confusion at such a small acceptance. "Only that? Please—"
Astrid interjected softly, "We live simply, my lord. Too much gold would only gather dust with us. Know that your gratitude is deeply appreciated, but truly, we require little."
Lady Farah stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "If that is their wish, Amin. We should respect it. Modesty is a virtue, after all," she said kindly. She offered Astrid and Kelan a warm, understanding smile. It seemed she grasped that not everyone sought to enrich themselves, especially if they valued peace over luxury.
Lord Amin relented, albeit reluctantly, signaling the servants to close the chest. "Very well," he sighed. "But at least allow me to do one more thing. Your skill deserves to be known—discreetly, of course, but known by those who could benefit. I have colleagues, friends in the city, and perhaps…" he hesitated a fraction of a second, "…perhaps even the Emir himself should know of the healer in Tazan who can succeed where his own physicians could not."
Kelan felt his stomach tighten. Exactly what I feared. "As you say, my lord," he managed diplomatically. "I am willing to help any who truly need it." He carefully kept his tone neutral. There was no turning back the tide of word-of-mouth now, not after such a dramatic recovery. He could only hope any further entanglements would be minor.
Lord Amin clapped him gently on the shoulder, misunderstanding Kelan's measured response as humility rather than wariness. "Good man. For now, you must be tired. Would you and Lady Astrid do us the honor of staying for lunch? Our cook will prepare something light—"
"That's very kind, Lord Amin," Astrid said, "but Kelan should rest soon after this effort. Perhaps a light meal before we depart would be wise." Kelan noted the subtle tact in her voice: accepting enough not to slight their hosts, but implying they wouldn't linger too long.
"Yes, yes of course," Lady Farah agreed at once. "Come, we'll have a table set in the garden. It's cooler under the date palms."
Kelan realized only then how drained he truly felt. The idea of a brief respite and food was welcome. And it would allow him to ensure the girl remained stable for a little longer before leaving. "Thank you," he said.
They moved to a veranda that opened into a shaded garden courtyard. Astrid stayed a moment behind, helping settle little Alia back to a comfortable sleep now that she had sipped some juice. The girl had given Astrid a tiny flower from beside her bed—a jasmine bloom she'd clutched even through her fever. Astrid accepted it with a gracious bow that made the child giggle sleepily.
Seated around a low mosaic-tiled table, Kelan and Astrid found themselves treated as honored guests rather than mere hired help. Servants brought cool water scented with lemon, platters of fresh flatbread with olive oil and za'atar, and bowls of lentil soup. Normally, Kelan might have felt out of place amid such finery, but Lord Amin and his wife were amiable hosts, and their joy at their daughter's recovery filled the air with warmth.
As they ate, the conversation turned to lighter topics at first—how long Kelan and Astrid had been in Tazan, how they found the desert climate. Astrid spoke of the beauty of the oasis at dusk and how she was learning local customs. Kelan listened, appreciating how she navigated the small talk. She revealed little but was unfailingly polite and earnest, which clearly charmed Lady Farah.
Eventually, Lord Amin broached more substantive matters. "Master Kelan," he began, "forgive me if I am prying, but your art of healing… Did you study in the western kingdoms? I have heard of monks in the far isles with wondrous abilities, or the herbal masters of the north."
Kelan set down his cup of water. He anticipated such curiosity. "I did travel in the west for a time," he replied carefully, which was true enough—travel taught him more than any formal school. "I learned from various mentors along the way. Herbalists, apothecaries, even a village wise-woman or two. Each had pieces of knowledge, and I was a keen student." He smiled lightly. "There is no great secret, only an accumulation of small wisdoms."
Lord Amin nodded, accepting the answer. If he suspected more, he did not press it. "However you came by your skill, it is a boon to have you in Tazan. Our own physicians mean well but are often… limited by tradition." He lowered his voice slightly, though only friendly ears were nearby. "They seldom think beyond the usual potions and bleedings. A fresh perspective can mean life or death, as we saw today."
Kelan inclined his head in modest agreement. "Different training yields different approaches. I was fortunate today." He chose his words modestly, not wanting to appear boastful or mystical.
After their meal, when the sun was past its zenith and the worst heat lulled, Kelan and Astrid made gentle motions to depart. Kelan insisted on checking Alia one more time. He found her sleeping soundly, her forehead cool and her breathing easy. Satisfied, he told the grateful parents that with continued care, the girl should recover fully in days.
At the grand foyer, Lord Amin handed Kelan a sealed letter. "This is a letter of introduction," he explained. "It bears my seal and words of your deed today. If ever you need assistance in Tazan or wish to establish a practice officially, show this to any guild or official. It will open doors."
Kelan accepted the letter, understanding the gesture. It was both a reward and a protective charm—proof that a powerful noble favored him. Such a thing might indeed dissuade trouble or cut through bureaucracy, though he hoped he'd not need to brandish it.
Their farewells were warm. Lady Farah embraced Astrid lightly, as women of the city did with friends, and pressed a small package into her hands – candied dates and spiced almonds for them to take home. "For your tea tomorrow morning," she said with a smile.
Lord Amin accompanied them to the carriage that would return them to their quarter. Before they boarded, he added in a confidential tone, "I meant what I said about informing others. The city's elite are always in need of a miracle or two." He offered an apologetic shrug. "I will be discreet, of course. But if the Emir catches wind, do not be surprised if a summons comes. His mother has been ill of late… and well, you might be the answer to prayers."
Kelan's mouth went dry at that prospect, though he tried to hide it. Astrid touched his arm subtly, a gesture of support. "We will bear that in mind," Kelan replied evenly. "Thank you again, Lord Amin, for everything."
As the carriage pulled away from the manor, Astrid sighed and leaned back against the cushioned seat. "That went better than I expected," she said softly. She twirled the little jasmine flower between her fingers, its white petals a reminder of innocence saved.
Kelan managed a faint smile. "You expected it to go poorly?"
"Not the healing," she replied, giving him an affectionate look. "But dealing with nobility. I'm glad Lord Amin and his wife turned out to be… decent." She hesitated on the last word, knowing how quickly generosity could change in the halls of power.
"Yes." Kelan gazed out the window as palm-lined streets slipped by. "They were gracious. We were lucky."
Silence fell for a few beats. The rhythmic clop of hooves and creak of wheels were the only sounds.
Then Astrid voiced what they were both thinking. "If word spreads about this, more will come, Kelan. More nobles with requests."
Kelan closed his eyes briefly. "I know. We'll have to tread carefully. I'm not keen to be drawn into their games."
Astrid reached over and took his hand firmly. "We face it together, whatever comes."
He turned his hand to intertwine his fingers with hers. "Yes. Our quiet days may be numbered." The thought weighed on him, but he tried to rally a bit of optimism. "At least we made a powerful ally today. That may protect us if things get... complicated."
Astrid offered a small smile. "True. And a little girl lives because of you. Don't forget that amidst all this scheming."
Kelan nodded, squeezing her hand. Astrid always knew how to center him. He gazed out the carriage window at the city streets emerging in the late-afternoon glow. "Whatever comes," he said, "we face it together."
She leaned against him lightly. "Together," she agreed.
Despite the uncertainty coiling in Kelan's gut, he allowed himself a moment of solace in that word. Together, they had weathered storms before. They would weather whatever Tazan's nobility stirred up as well. Still, as the silhouette of the Emir's grand palace rose in the distance, Kelan could not shake the feeling that this day's events were the first stirrings of a gathering sandstorm—one that would test the limits of their desire to remain unnoticed in this ancient desert city.
Chapter 13
Two evenings later, a formal invitation embossed with golden script arrived at Kelan and Astrid's door. In flowing calligraphy, it requested their presence at a banquet in the Emir's palace to commemorate the recovery of Lord Amin's daughter and to honor the "skilled healer" responsible. There was no polite way to refuse such a summons. With some trepidation, they accepted.
The day of the banquet, Astrid fussed with the clothing that had been delivered for them at Lord Amin's behest. For Kelan, a long tunic of deep blue silk with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs; for Astrid, a flowing dress of indigo and gold that caught the light of late afternoon like ripples on water. Astrid looked uncomfortable at first in such finery, but when she wrapped a sheer shawl around her shoulders and Kelan gave an appreciative nod, she relented with a shy smile.
"I hardly recognize us," she murmured as they prepared to depart.
Kelan adjusted the broad sash at his waist and offered his arm. "Nor do I. Let's hope we remember our manners." His tone was light, but inside he felt a coil of unease. They had spent months avoiding attention, and now they were about to walk straight into the lion's den of Tazan's elite.
A liveried palace carriage conveyed them through the grand avenues at twilight. As they approached the Emir's palace, Kelan gazed at the imposing structure. The Emir's palace rose at the city's heart like a mirage of domes and courtyards at sunset. Tall palms lined the road as they arrived.
They disembarked at the main entrance, where a line of guards in polished breastplates and curved swords stood at attention. The guards saluted as a chamberlain escorted Kelan and Astrid through towering cedar-wood doors carved with scenes of desert hunts and ancient battles. Inside, the halls gleamed with brass lamps and intricate mosaics. Astrid's eyes widened at the splendor as Kelan gently squeezed her hand.
The banquet was held in the Palace's inner courtyard, open to the night sky. At its center gurgled a long reflecting pool lined with blue tiles, flanked by rows of low tables laden with food and cushions for seating. The scent of roasted lamb, saffron, and honeyed pastries perfumed the warm air. Noble guests milled about under arches entwined with flowering vines, their silks and jewels glinting in the torchlight.
Before they could take in more, a herald stepped forward and struck his staff on the marble floor. "Kelan of the Western Isles, healer, and Astrid of Whiteford, mage—guests of Lord Amin," he announced loudly.
Conversation hushed and eyes turned their way as they stepped forward side by side. Kelan fought the urge to stiffen. Astrid's chin lifted slightly—demure but not intimidated. Together, they advanced into the courtyard. Lord Amin himself was there, breaking away from a circle of nobles to greet them with a broad smile.
"Kelan, Astrid, welcome," Amin said warmly. He looked every bit the gracious host, dressed in flowing formal robes of emerald green. "Come, there are some people you must meet."
He led them through the crowd, making introductions. Kelan soon found himself bowing to a variety of lords and ladies whose names he could barely keep straight. Astrid followed slightly behind Kelan, as was custom for an unmarried woman in such settings, but Amin made a point of including her in conversation and praising her as Kelan's invaluable partner.
They were presented to a heavy-set man with a bejeweled turban—Lord Mansur, the city's trade minister, and to a sharp-eyed older woman—Lady Samira, head of the artisans' guild. Each congratulated Kelan on his miraculous cure of Amin's daughter. Kelan responded with modest words, attributing success to good fortune and the grace of the gods. The nobles seemed charmed by his humility.
Yet not all attention felt benign. Kelan noticed a tall, lean man in dark robes watching from a distance. The man's eyes were hawk-like, calculating as he observed Kelan and Astrid move through the gathering. Lord Amin noticed Kelan's glance.
"That is Vizier Zafir," Amin murmured softly to them as they paused near the pool. "The Emir's cousin and chief advisor."
Even had Amin not named him, Kelan would have guessed. There was a quiet authority in the man's posture and how other guests parted subtly to give him space. Zafir's face was handsome in a cold way, a neatly trimmed black beard highlighting high cheekbones. When he finally approached, Lord Amin bowed his head in respect. Kelan and Astrid followed suit.
"So, this is the miracle-worker I've heard so much about," Vizier Zafir said. His voice was silky, with a polite veneer that did not entirely mask the undertone of skepticism. "And his lovely companion."
Kelan rose from his bow and met the vizier's gaze evenly. "I am Kelan, honored to be of service in Tazan."
Astrid inclined her head as well. "Astrid, Your Excellency."
Zafir's eyes flicked to Astrid, a faint smile curving his lips. "I've also heard that our visiting healer does not work alone. They say his companion is a sorceress of uncommon talent."
Astrid flushed slightly at the description. "I'm merely a student of combat magic, Excellency," she said. "Hardly worthy of mention alongside accomplished mages of the city."
Zafir's smile widened, though Kelan found it hard to read. "Modesty. How refreshing." He clasped his hands behind his back, regarding them both. "Tazan has seen many charlatans and wandering 'miracle' peddlers over the years. It is rare one proves to be the genuine article." His dark eyes fixed on Kelan. "You'll forgive me for saying so, Master Kelan, but men of power often seek to... employ unique talents that come to our city. Have you given thought to offering your skills in the Emir's service permanently?"
Kelan felt the trap in that seemingly offhand question. Zafir's tone was casual, but the glint in his eye was anything but. An uncomfortable prickle crawled up Kelan's neck. He chose his words carefully. "My only wish is to help where I'm needed, Vizier. I have not considered any formal position; I value my independence and quiet life."
Zafir raised a thin eyebrow. For a beat too long, silence hung. Then he chuckled lightly. "A noble sentiment. Though one might say a man with such gifts has a responsibility to do more than live quietly. Don't you agree?"
Before Kelan had to form a response, a new voice broke in—a rich baritone with gentle amusement. "Careful, cousin. You're interrogating our guest before he's even had a chance to enjoy the wine."
Kelan turned to see the Emir himself approaching. Emir Halim was a stately man in his early sixties, silver-haired and clad in flowing white robes trimmed with gold. He moved at a measured pace, leaning lightly on an ornate cane topped with a ruby. The Vizier stepped back and bowed low, and everyone around followed suit.
"Your Highness," Kelan murmured, bowing deeply. Astrid curtsied beside him.
Emir Halim gestured for them to rise. His face was lined with age and perhaps worry, but his eyes were kind. "So, you are the healer from afar," he said, looking Kelan over appraisingly. "Lord Amin speaks very highly of you."
"I was fortunate to aid his daughter, Your Highness," Kelan replied.
"Fortune and skill, by all accounts." The Emir nodded approvingly. He then smiled at Astrid. "And you, my dear—Astrid, is it? Lord Amin tells me you have been training with our guard captains in swordplay and magic drills."
Astrid cast an astonished glance at Amin, who gave a slight, encouraging nod. "I—yes, Your Highness," she said. "Now and then I practice at the barracks. The soldiers have been generous in allowing me to observe and spar occasionally."
The Emir chuckled. "It seems both of you have been quietly contributing to Tazan's well-being. A healer saving lives, and a mage honing her skills alongside my guard. You have my gratitude. Please, as my guests, be at ease tonight."
At a clap of the Emir's hands, servants began circulating with trays of spiced wine and pomegranate juice. Music from lute and hand-drum drifted in from one corner where minstrels played. The formal audience relaxed and people returned to mingling, though now many cast curious glances at Kelan and Astrid, the Emir's words marking them as persons of interest.
The Emir engaged Lord Amin in a conversation about his daughter's health, drawing him aside, while Vizier Zafir offered a final thin smile to Kelan. "We will speak again, I'm sure," he said quietly, then melted back into the crowd like a shadow.
Kelan exhaled slowly. The encounter left him simultaneously relieved and on edge. Emir Halim's genuine gratitude was reassuring, but Zafir's probing questions rang in his ears. "He's sizing us up," Kelan muttered to Astrid as they moved toward one of the food tables, momentarily unoccupied.
Astrid nodded, eyes scanning the assembly. "I don't trust him," she whispered. "Like a snake watching for a chance to strike."
Kelan was about to respond when a young man in an elegant cobalt-blue tunic strode toward them. He carried two goblets of wine and had a confident, easy smile. Kelan recognized him as one of the men they'd been introduced to earlier—Siraj, a cousin of the Emir from another branch of the family, if he recalled correctly.
"Kelan, Master Healer!" Siraj said brightly, offering a goblet to Kelan. "And Lady Astrid—may I say you look radiant this evening?" He extended the second goblet toward Astrid.
Astrid took the drink with a polite smile. "You're too kind, Siraj."
"I speak only truth," Siraj grinned. He appeared to be in his late twenties and carried himself with the relaxed entitlement of someone long accustomed to luxury. "I was hoping to hear more about your homeland. Whiteford, was it? That's far to the north, isn't it?"
Astrid glanced at Kelan—Whiteford had been the town she grew up in, a small place they'd left long ago. She turned back to Siraj. "Yes, very far north. It's quite different from Tazan—green hills, cold misty mornings. The desert heat is new to me."
Siraj moved a half step closer as they talked. Kelan watched the younger man's posture and noticed how his gaze lingered on Astrid's face and the gold filigree necklace she wore. There was a certain hungry appreciation there that set Kelan's teeth on edge. He forced himself to remain calm, sipping the wine to busy his hands while keeping ears on their conversation.
"Personally, I find the desert far more captivating," Siraj said, flashing a charming smile at Astrid. "Perhaps I could show you some of its hidden beauties—an oasis at midnight, the view from the old watchtower by starlight. With a proper guide, Tazan holds many delights for a newcomer."
Astrid's smile thinned. She was no fool; the innuendo in Siraj's voice was evident. "That's a generous offer, Siraj. Perhaps another time." She inched slightly closer to Kelan, a subtle signal.
Kelan set his goblet down. "Siraj, how kind of you to entertain us," he said smoothly, stepping in. "Astrid and I were just talking about stepping outside to take some fresh air. The hall is a bit warm." He placed a light hand on Astrid's back, a clear sign of their closeness.
Siraj's eyes flicked to Kelan's hand, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face—gone in an instant, replaced by a courteous smile. "Of course. Another time then," he said lightly, though a hint of disappointment laced his tone. He gave a shallow bow and drifted off, melding into a group of young nobles who were laughing over some private joke.
Astrid breathed out, relieved. "Thank you," she murmured to Kelan. "I was about thirty seconds away from dumping that wine over his head."
Kelan chuckled under his breath. "Tempting, but that might have caused a scene."
They found a quiet corner near one of the courtyard's pillars, partially hidden behind a large potted palm. Astrid set her untouched wine aside. "I don't think he'll give up that easily," she said, annoyance still coloring her cheeks.
Kelan frowned, mind already working. Siraj's type was persistent, emboldened by status. Kelan suspected that if Siraj caught Astrid alone, he'd redouble his advances. The thought made Kelan's jaw tighten. He had promised himself long ago to use his more uncanny abilities sparingly, but for Astrid's safety and comfort, he would make exceptions.
As if on cue, Kelan spotted Siraj at the far side of the courtyard, watching them. When their eyes met, the man raised his goblet in a casual toast, smiling. Then, pointedly, Siraj inclined his head toward a side archway that led out to the palace gardens. It was an unmistakable invitation, likely hoping Astrid would separate from Kelan and join him for a private stroll.
Astrid hadn't seen the gesture; her back was partially turned as she watched a trio of performers begin a dance in the open space by the pool. Kelan gave Siraj a bland, noncommittal look and turned back to Astrid. Quietly, he said, "Siraj is still trying. He wants you to follow him to the gardens."
Astrid rolled her eyes. "Persistent indeed. I have no intention of obliging."
"No," Kelan agreed. "But he might corner you if you stray even a step away."
Even as he spoke, Kelan noticed Siraj starting to weave through the crowd, edging along the pool as if to casually intercept Astrid from behind. The young noble clearly hoped to catch her alone by the garden entrance.
A protective fire sparked in Kelan's chest. He gently touched Astrid's arm. "Stay here a moment. I'll handle this."
She looked at him questioningly, but he had already slipped away into the throng, moving parallel to Siraj's path. Kelan kept an innocent expression, pausing here and there as if admiring the musicians, all the while tracking Siraj's trajectory.
Siraj was nearly at Astrid's position, approaching from behind the palm planter with a determined grin. Before he could reach her, Kelan stepped directly into his path from the side.
"Oh! Pardon me," Kelan said aloud, as if he'd just accidentally bumped into Siraj. He placed a steadying hand on the man's shoulder.
Siraj blinked in surprise. "Kelan— no harm done." His tone was polite but carried an undercurrent of impatience. He clearly wanted Kelan elsewhere.
Kelan leaned in slightly as if out of courtesy in the noisy environment. In truth, it brought his face close to Siraj's. He spoke softly, so any onlookers would assume it a friendly word. "Siraj, I must thank you for your interest in Astrid," he said, voice calm. "However, I fear your attentions are unwelcome."
Siraj's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"
Kelan's grip on Siraj's shoulder tightened just a fraction—an intimate gesture to any observers, but there was power behind it. Not brute strength, but a focused will. Kelan reached out with his mind, a subtle tendril of thought entwining with Siraj's consciousness. It was not a full invasion, just a whisper of influence. Siraj would feel a sudden cold certainty as Kelan's quiet words poured into his ear: "You will leave her alone."
For a heartbeat, Siraj's confident mask slipped. His brow dampened and he swallowed hard, eyes darting as if he'd just heard a distant growl of a predator. He couldn't comprehend why a curl of fear was forming in his gut.
Kelan kept his pleasant smile, patting Siraj's shoulder amicably while he pressed the mental suggestion home. "Tazan's nights can be dangerous for those who don't heed warnings," he murmured in that same affable tone. To any passerby it looked like friendly conversation between new acquaintances. But Siraj's face had grown a shade paler.
"I… perhaps I've had too much wine," Siraj stammered softly. He stepped back from Kelan's grip, straightening his tunic as if shaking off a chill. "You'll excuse me." Without meeting Kelan's eyes, he gave a stiff nod and turned on his heel. Kelan watched him depart, satisfied to see the young noble slip out of the courtyard entirely, as though fleeing something.
Astrid joined Kelan just then, having noticed Siraj leaving in a hurry. "What did you do?" she asked under her breath.
"Just a brief chat," Kelan replied quietly. He felt a pang of guilt; instilling fear, however mild, was not something he enjoyed. But seeing Astrid safe and unharassed was worth that twinge. He offered a faint smile. "I don't think Siraj will bother you again."
Astrid looked at him searchingly, then nodded, trusting his judgment. She slipped her arm through his, an open declaration of solidarity as they rejoined the main gathering.
For the rest of the banquet, no further unwanted approaches came. They dined on fragrant spiced rice and tender lamb, conversed with several more nobles (under the watchful eye of Vizier Zafir, Kelan noted), and even watched Astrid be invited to demonstrate a simple illusion for a curious Lady Samira. Astrid obliged by conjuring a small orb of ethereal light that danced above her palm—earning admiring applause from nearby guests. It was a harmless bit of showmanship, but it marked Astrid as a magic-user of note in the eyes of the elite.
As the night deepened and stars blanketed the sky, the banquet drew to a close. Emir Halim bade everyone a gracious good night before retiring, and guests began to disperse in twos and threes, whispering about the evening's entertainments and intrigues.
Kelan and Astrid were among the last to leave, walking out through the palace gates beneath flickering torchlight. Lord Amin, pleasantly tipsy on wine, clasped Kelan's hand once more and promised to send for them soon for a quieter visit. They thanked him and parted.
The same carriage that had brought them waited to take them home. As it rattled through the now-quiet streets, Astrid leaned against Kelan's shoulder, exhausted. "That was... overwhelming," she admitted.
Kelan let out a breath and nodded. "I'd take our little courtyard over a hundred banquets like that, any day."
Astrid gave a soft hum of agreement. After a moment, she added, "But we learned a few things tonight."
"Mm. We met the players," Kelan said. "The Emir seems well-meaning. Some of the nobles are friendly. Others…" He didn't need to finish.
"Zafir," Astrid said, voice tight. "He was studying us like we were pieces on a game board."
Kelan felt the same. "He'll make a move when it suits him. We must be careful."
Astrid sat up enough to meet his eyes in the dim carriage. "And you? What move did you make with Siraj?"
Kelan sighed softly. "One I felt was necessary. I gave him a... strong suggestion to leave you be."
At that, Astrid's expression softened. "Thank you. I know you don't like using your gift that way, but he wasn't going to listen otherwise." She shuddered slightly. "Men like that think they're entitled to anything."
"Not this time," Kelan said, a quiet steel in his voice.
They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. By the time they reached their home quarter, the city was dark and slumbering, save for the occasional distant bark of a dog or flicker of a lantern. Kelan helped Astrid down from the carriage. The stars overhead were brilliant now away from the palace lights, and a warm breeze carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine through the streets.
Outside their door, Astrid paused. "All in all, we survived our first big night among Tazan's elite."
Kelan chuckled. "Survived is the right word."
Astrid reached up and gently untied the ornate scarf from around her hair, relief evident as she returned to a simpler self. "I won't miss the stares. Though," she added with a teasing glint, "you did look rather handsome in those robes."
Kelan smiled, unlocking their door. "Flatterer. You stole the show, I think. Half the court was in awe of you."
She shook her head as they stepped inside the familiar comfort of their home. "Maybe. But I'd rather be here, unknown and free, than celebrated in a palace with strings attached."
"Agreed," Kelan said, lighting a small lamp on the table. The house returned to life with its gentle glow, their simple belongings a welcome sight after the opulence of the palace.
As Astrid began to undo the pins of her dress, Kelan caught her hand softly. "I'm proud of you," he said.
She tilted her head, questioningly.
"You handled yourself well tonight," Kelan elaborated. "With Zafir, the Emir, everyone. I know it wasn't easy."
Astrid's features gentled into a smile. "I had you with me. That made it easier."
They stood there for a moment in the quiet of their home, the night air still warm around them.
Whatever lay ahead—schemes of viziers, covetous nobles, or political storms—they would face it side by side. Kelan pulled the door shutter closed, silently hoping that tonight would not be the first of many restless nights. But deep down, he suspected it was only the beginning.