34 - A Change of Direction
Edain looked down at her hands, unable to speak. She tried. Her mouth opened, then closed. Again. Still nothing. Anything she wanted to say seemed to fall short. So, she said what she felt like instead.
“Shit.”
Bran snorted. “If you say that a little louder and add a few more curses, you know exactly what the mess hall sounded like last night when the high commander told the rest of them.”
Edain grunted, then gave him a long look.
“How’d the new bloods take it?” she asked.
“Well,” Bran shrugged. “But then, they haven’t been in it like the rest of us.”
A sigh escaped the female knight’s lips.
“It’s times like these I really miss the old Commander.”
Then, she winced and glanced around the barracks, eyes flickering nervously. Bran waved her off.
“Captain Riven isn’t here yet,” he said. “He’s not scheduled back until tomorrow. Commander Lyndon worked it out so that he’d have some extra time with his family.”
“That’s good,” Edain nodded. “Probably best that he wasn’t here when that little fire blast went off.” She paused. “Bran? This isn’t good, is it?”
Bran shook his head. “No, it’s not.”
Edain swallowed and nodded again. “A fucking kid…damn.”
“A lot of the men are talking about how guilty they feel,” Bran admitted quietly.
She gave him a sharp look—head pulling back, brows drawn low, confused.
“Why?”
Bran snorted and shook his head. “Why did I think that would be your response?”
Edain only looked at him. She didn’t have to say she was worried. Bran knew. Bran probably felt the exact same. More than a few things had gone wrong in such a short amount of time. The Second Order had their asses handed to them only a week ago by their enraged leader, gained new blood knights who barely knew the pointy end of the sword from the hilt, and found out their greatest foe on the battlefield was no more than a fifteen year old child.
But she didn’t feel guilty.
“We did our jobs. We saved lives. And hopefully we can save the fucking kid, too. If he lets us.” She rolled her eyes. “But I won’t apologize for what we did. Kid or not, that thing needed to be stopped.”
Bran looked down. He didn’t argue with her, but she could see the turmoil brewing there. He felt guilty. She fought the urge to click her tongue and roll her eyes again. Annoying, but understandable. Still, she wouldn’t get sucked into that rabbit hole. They’d be debating for hours.
“Well, what’s the plan, then?” she asked.
“Dunno yet.” Bran shrugged. “The king and archmage left rather quickly yesterday. Garrick shut himself in his study until supper time. He only made the announcement and then left. Gave orders to just keep things steady and that he’d be back later today. I think something was brewing in his head. He looked…lost. Not gonna lie, I kind of felt lost, too. When the monster - I mean, when the kid froze, and the archmage stumbled out of that cell…Edain, I’ve never seen anything like that. And then Garrick…”
He trailed off and shuddered, haunted. Edain gaped at him.
“You were in the cell when it happened?” she asked sharply. “Fuck, I didn’t know. Sorry.”
Bran shrugged. “It wasn’t pretty, but I’m glad it was me, not anyone else. Glad it was Halver. Don’t think I could have looked any friends in the eye at that moment. He kept my head up.”
Edain nodded a few times. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence. Then, with a subtle glance in his direction, she decided it was time to ask the hard question.
“What do we do about Riven?”
Bran pressed his lips together. “Same thing as last time, I guess. Make sure he doesn’t go mad.”
“You don’t sound too excited.”
“And you are?”
She laughed quietly. “Not really, but he’s a good captain. Pulled our asses out of the fire more than once. Least we can do.”
Bran grumbled. “Sure. I’m in.”
The reluctant tone in his voice caught her attention.
“You and Captain Hawthorne not on good terms?” she probed.
“It’s nothing,” Bran sighed. “I’ve got morning guard duty, I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll join you,” she said quickly, eyes twinkling.
“It’s Nealan’s shift.”
“Nealan won’t mind.”
“You just got back. You’re supposed to be training the kid.”
“He’ll come with.”
“Keep sticking your nose in stuff that’s not your business, and you’ll get it cut off,” Bran growled as he walked away.
But Edain followed him stubbornly, grinning from ear to ear. Her steps were bouncy, hands clasped behind her back like an innocent school girl asking after a crush. As Bran stepped from the barracks, her gaze never left him. She waggled them invitingly, never saying a word. Even as the morning sun warmed her face, she let her eyes do the talking until Bran finally broke.
“Riven…said something to me. About Maeve. And she almost didn’t forgive me,” Bran admitted with a sigh.
Aha! Juicy. She knew it!
“Oh, so it’s relationship drama, is it?” Edain chuckled. “What made you think our very single, very grumpy knight captain knew a thing about romance, hmm?”
Bran grumbled. “I didn’t think what he said was all that bad.”
“Men,” Edain rolled her eyes.
“You’re one to talk.”
“I am what I am, and I have no shame. If I wanted a man, I’d get me one,” she said. “Now, what did our illustrious captain say?”
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“That he’d never let someone he loved in with a monster who once destroyed companies.”
“Oh.”
The smile faded and the bounce lessened. She sighed and shook her head.
“You know why he said that, right?”
“I do. I did. And that’s why I couldn’t help but think he might be making some sense. Maeve practically told me she hated me when I talked to her,” Bran sighed. “It’s okay, now, but only just. Last night kind of helped. She couldn’t stop crying.”
Edain nodded. Made sense. The little healer. Edain liked her a lot. Bold but squeaky, fierce but easily flustered, and loudly empathetic. She was perfect for Bran, who kept most of his feelings in his head but who also felt deeply. Bran never admitted when things got hard. The idiot just ignored it half the time. But Maeve made him different.
“Hope you gave her a big hug until she did,” she said, pointedly.
Bran scoffed. “How little do you think of me?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
She paused and looked up, spying her squire across the courtyard near the stables. She wrinkled her nose.
“Was he there the entire time?” she asked.
“You were on break,” Bran shrugged. “Hardly anyone had time to watch him. At least he made himself useful.”
She couldn’t argue with that. With a sharp whistle - Bran winced - she caught Collin’s attention. The squire dropped the broom and bucket he had been carrying and scurried over immediately, bowing his head many times over.
“Sergeant Glennan!” he said brightly. “Welcome back, my lady!”
Placing her hands on her hips, she gave him a once over. Grubby uniform, smudged face, and slumped back. She growled.
“You might not for long, brat,” she said in mock horror. “My god, you’re a mess and a half. Tell me, you even hold a sword while I was gone?”
“Y-yes, I-I-I did. I practiced every night, just like you taught me.”
She glanced at Bran, who nodded in confirmation.
“Up later than the rest of us after his chores,” he said. “Scrubbed the armor from top to bottom and kept the weapons clean, too.”
“And got most of it on him in the process,” Edain grinned, shaking her head. “Go clean up and meet us down near the cell. We’re taking guard duty with Bran today.”
“Yes, lady!” Collin said before darting off to do as he was told.
Edain’s grin faded as watched him go.
“And him?” she asked Bran quietly. “How did he take it? He’s younger than the new bloods, but he’s been with us longer. Even saw some combat.”
“He’s a lot like you. Told us all that you’d say not to worry too much since all we have to do is follow orders,” Bran laughed quietly.
“Well, at least I taught him something right,” she said.
They stepped into the tower and trekked down below. Edain felt it as soon as he hit the bottom - heavy, subdued. So, this is what Bran meant when he said the old guard was taking it hard. Nealan was already waiting for Bran there, staring blankly at the far wall as he waited. He started when Edain clapped a hand on his shoulder, jumping a little.
“Hey, Nealan. Wanna swap duty with me?”
Nealan nodded. He didn’t even hesitate. When he realized, however, he blushed.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Just…it’s hard. Not sure what to think yet.”
Edain nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Get your head straight. Take the gate. I’ve got this.”
Nealan nodded again in wordless thanks before scurrying off. Bran and Edain watched him go.
“When Riven takes Commander, you should throw your hat in for Captain,” Bran said.
But Edain snorted.
“I know how much paperwork those guys do. No thanks! Rather slum it with fellow mud brothers.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Thank you.”
They both looked up in surprise as they met Harlan and one of the newer knights - Edain couldn’t quite remember his name - halfway down the corridor.
“The monster?” Edain asked.
“It’s - I mean he’s with Lyndon and the healer,” Harlan said, shrugging. “Figured it would be fine to meet you down here. It’s just too damn quiet down there right now.”
“Quiet?” Edain asked, brows furrowing.
Bran nodded. “Luka hasn’t moved since Veylan left. Still isn’t?”
Harlan and the other knight nodded in confirmation.
“Still isn’t,” the other knight repeated. “It’s strange. I mean, I hated it when he was screaming, but this is something stranger. Damn creepy.”
They tapped out the knights and continued down. Before they even reached the cell, Edain could see what they were talking about. The quiet. It was surreal. Thick. Heavy. Burdensome. The only sound came from the usual quiet breath of still air and the soft murmur of voices from the open cell door. Edain’s hand settled on her weapon before she knew it. A reflex. One, she noticed with interest, that Bran seemed to have completely dropped.
The truth must have hit him harder than he said.
“...hasn’t touched his food. Not once,” Maeve’s quiet voice carried from the cell.
“Have you tried the usual deals?” Commander Lyndon responded.
Edain peered inside. Maeve was beside him, as always—close, quiet, her movements the only thing soft in the room. Lyndon stood a little further back, his arms folded. Both of them were focused on the figure before them, but it was Luka who held the room in his stillness. He sat rigid on the cot, knees drawn tightly to his chest, hands clamps around them like the iron shackles on his wrists. He stared blankly ahead. The torchlight twisted his scars into something grotesque, something raw.
The female knight could feel her stomach churning a little. How the hell had a child survived something like that? A fucking monstrous one, that’s what kind. But for the first time, that thought came without the usual malice. Huh.
“I don’t need to,” Maeve answered Lyndon quietly, her voice tired and thin. “He just…lets me. Even his eye, which he hates.”
Edain stepped fully into the cell, Bran close behind her. Lyndon turned, acknowledging them with a small nod. Maeve, though visibly drained, stiffened slightly and pointedly avoided Bran’s eyes. But her hands never stopped moving, gently rearranging unused food, checking medical supplies—busy work that kept her focused anywhere but him. Edain fought the urge to turn to Bran and give him a look. At least, she noted, Maeve’s avoidance seemed more embarrassed than upset.
Baby steps.
“How are you holding up, Sergeant Glennan?” the knight commander asked, a touch wary as if bracing for another storm of guilt or anger.
Edain shrugged. “Me? Fine. Gut-punched. Like shit. But rested.”
Lyndon hesitated, glancing at Bran. The unspoken question hung between them, heavy as the air. Bran’s quick nod reassured Lyndon more than words could. The commander’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Glad someone isn’t going mad,” Lyndon admitted softly.
Edain snorted quietly, stepping closer to Luka. “Maybe I’m already insane.”
Her voice faded into distracted silence as she studied him. Up close, his scars were worse, cruel in their permanence. His stillness felt unnatural; hands utterly steady yet pale and tight, locked around his knees. Nothing twitched, nothing moved. Like he was holding himself together by sheer willpower, yet ready to crumble if a single thread snapped.
She exhaled slowly, glanced back at them.
“Anyone try moving him yet?”
Lyndon frowned, puzzled. “Why would we?”
Really? Were they serious?
“Sir, didn’t we just learn he’s a fu-I mean, he’s a kid? This isn’t how you handle a child. You don’t leave him curled up on a cot and stare at him like he’ll suddenly make sense. You make him comfortable, tell him things will be alright, even if you’re lying through your teeth.”
Maeve flushed immediately, eyes widening slightly with shame. Even Lyndon looked away guiltily, gaze dropping to the cell floor as though suddenly realizing his oversight. Bran shifted uneasily.
“He’s still dangerous,” Bran cautioned.
“If he’s still dangerous, keep the chains,” Edain suggested. “But at least chain him up in a warm bed, with a warm blanket, in a warmer room.”
“Damn,” Lyndon muttered, pushing up his spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can’t believe…we were too damn focused on…”
“...keeping it all normal we forgot it’s not normal at all,” Maeve finished for him.
Lyndon nodded weakly. This time, Edain lost the battle and rolled her eyes. Hard. Thankfully, Lyndon was already turning towards Maeve, trying to find answers.
“The infirmary,” Maeve suggested softly. “It’s quieter. Gentler. The other healers can help. Or maybe not. I think they’re feeling a little guilty, too, right now.”
Lyndon nodded thoughtfully. “A bath might help. Clean clothes, fresh air—even chained, that can make a difference.”
Bran crossed his arms, expression easing slightly. “Might need more candy.”
Maeve didn't argue this time, didn’t even sigh. She simply nodded, a quiet agreement that said far more than any words could.
A sudden shuffle at the doorway drew Edain’s attention. Collin stood there, freshly scrubbed but wide-eyed, taking in the scene with a mix of awe and apprehension. Edain grinned at him, flashing teeth with her usual mischief.
“Hey, kid! Good timing,” she said. “Looks like you’ll be getting your first escort duty today.”

