The forest path was quiet. The only sounds were the muffled thud of hooves and crunch of boots over fallen leaves and small stones. Lucien walked ahead, holding the reins of his horse. Zuri and Zephyrion followed a few paces back. No one spoke as they crossed the border stones that marked the end of Lycanthria’s territory.

Since they left Lycanthria in the early hours, Lucien had not spoken. His face was set in an expression that gave nothing away. Zuri watched him from behind, noting the set of his shoulders and the way he held his head. Zephyrion walked beside her, his usual restlessness held in check by the heavy silence. She glanced at Zephyrion, who shrugged slightly. They both knew why he was quiet. His thoughts were still in Lycanthria. More specifically, they were with Aveloria.

Lucien’s mind was not on the path of the forest. It was back in the room with Aveloria. The anger in her voice. The disappointment. The way she looked at him was as if he had chosen something else over her. His mind replayed the last conversation over and over, each time finding new angles to feel the weight of his decision. He knew he had handled it badly.

There was no other way to describe it. He had let her believe his departure was about a lack of trust, about feeling unwanted. He had let her think he was leaving because the palace and its people had pushed him away. That was not the truth. He should have explained. He should have told her clearly that he had a job to do. A monster was terrorizing a village. The villagers had pooled their resources to offer a bounty. It was a straightforward work, the kind he had done a hundred times before.

He should have sat her down and told her about the Hunter’s Oath, the one he had taken years ago. To save humanity first, before himself, before his own desires. It was not a matter of trust or belonging. It was a matter of duty—a duty he had never questioned until now.

Instead, he had let pride and frustration speak for him. He had let her believe a version of events that made him a victim of circumstance rather than a man making a choice. That was the part that gnawed at him the most. He had gaslit her, and in doing so, he had gaslit himself. He had convinced himself that he was the one being misunderstood.

He had almost convinced himself that he was leaving cause no one trusted him, and the palace walls were too confining. In truth, he had not given her enough to understand. He had expected her to accept his silence and fill the gaps herself. It was easier than admitting the truth.

He exhaled slowly. It was too late for regrets. He had made his choice. He would follow through, complete the hunt, and collect the pay. What happened after that, he couldn’t say. He hoped that someday he would find the courage to tell her the truth, all of it. But deep in his heart, in a place he did not like to examine too closely, he was not sure he could ever be content within those palace walls. The idea of staying confined, attending to councils, watching every word he spoke, feeling eyes on him at all times—it did not sit well with him. He did not know if he would ever belong there.

The hunt was in his blood. The road was his home. He was used to danger that he could see and fight. He did not know how to reconcile that with the life Aveloria represented.

Zephyrion could not take the silence any longer. He cleared his throat. Lucien did not react. He began to whistle, a simple, tuneless sound that filled the air for a few seconds before ending. It did nothing to break the mood. He picked up his pace, closing the distance between himself and Lucien. Zuri followed his lead, walking faster to catch up.

"Are we planning to walk all the way to the next village?" Zuri said. "I’m getting tired of walking." Her voice was loud in the quiet space

Lucien glanced back at her. For a moment, his expression was distant as if he had forgotten they were there. Then he focused. "We’ll reach the next village by midday. I’ll get you both horses there."

Zuri nodded immediately. "Good. My feet are sore already."

Zephyrion grinned when he saw the opening to continue the conversation. He moved to walk on Lucien’s other side. "I have a better idea. Zuri could shapeshift into a bird again and carry you in her beak as she did with me. Then she wouldn’t have to walk at all. As for me, I’d ride the horse. That would be faster."

He looked at them, waiting for a reaction. Zuri stared at him flatly. Lucien did not respond. His words were meant to be funny, but landed in the silence and died there.

"Right. Not funny." Zephyrion muttered. He slowed his pace, letting Lucien move ahead, and fell back into step beside Zuri. He said nothing more.

They walked in silence for another half hour. The path began to widen slightly, and the trees thinned out in places, allowing patches of sunlight to reach the ground. No birds sang. No animal rustled in the underbrush.

Finally, Lucien stopped. Zuri nearly walked into him. Zephyrion halted beside her. He turned to face them, his hands still holding the reins.

"You can stop trying," Lucien said, his voice calm.

Zuri crossed her arms. "Trying what?"

"To make me cheer up."

Zephyrion shifted his weight. "We weren’t—"

"You were. I’m fine. So please save your energy for the hunt. That’s what we need to focus on."

Zuri met his gaze. "Agreed."

Zephyrion sighed. "Fine. The hunt."

Zuri adjusted her gloves. "I already know what I’m doing with my pay. I’ve got a plan."

Zephyrion perked up at the change in subject.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "We haven’t even caught it yet."

"We will," she said confidently. "And when we do, I’m spending every coin."

Zephyrion snorted. "You always have a plan for your pay. You act like you’re desperate for coin."

"I am desperate for coin. I am always starving. I am not like you." Zuri shrugged.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don’t have to worry about money. Your family has enough." She replied.

"You also lack nothing. Zuri, you can have anything you want."

She gave him a sharp look. "That’s not true."

Lucien resumed walking. The others followed.

"All you have to do is ask your father," Zephyrion added.

Zuri’s expression hardened. She looked away, focusing on the path ahead. "As long as I’m not ready to do my father’s bidding, I have nothing. I am poor. So I have to earn my own living."

Zephyrion tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly does he want?"

Zuri did not answer immediately. She walked faster, putting a little distance between them. Then she pointed at the horse Lucien was leading. "This horse has good confirmation. Strong legs like its owner."

"That’s not the answer to the question. Don’t change the subject, Zuri. What does your father want?"

She kept walking. "I shall get the same breed of horse."

"Hello...we were talking about your father." Zephyrion pestered.

Zuri walked faster. "Drop it, Zephyrion."

Zephyrion caught up with her. "Does he want you to return home?"

"Let it go, Zeph."

"Marriage?" he guessed.

She stopped abruptly and turned to glare at him. "Zephyrion."

He opened his mouth to press further, but she shot him a look that silenced him. He held up his hands in surrender and let the matter drop. "As you wish, my lady. And accept my apologies." He did a mock bow.

Zuri giggled.

They continued down the path. Lucien watched as Zuri and Zeohyrion moved ahead of him now. They bickered. Zephyrion was saying something about the quality of a certain horse breed versus another. Zuri countered that he had never bought a horse in his life and didn’t know what he was talking about. They argued about responsibility, money, and independence. Their voice rose and fell, argumentative but not angry. It was the kind of back-and-forth that comes from long familiarity.

"You act like you’re poor," Zephyrion muttered.

"I have told you countless times that I am poor, Zeph."

Lucien found himself smiling despite everything. The sound of them arguing about something trivial was a small comfort. He knew both of them well enough to understand what lay beneath their words.

Zuri wanted to prove she could stand on her own without relying on her father’s influence. Zephyrion wanted to believe that family support should not feel like a chain. They were both stubborn about their individual differences.

"We’ll reach the village before sunset if we keep this speed," he said.

Zuri waved her hands in the air. "Good. I want a real bed."

"Well, I want three horns of ale, meat, and a beautiful whore to warm my bed," Zephyrion said, excitement clear in his voice.

"I thought you swore off women for a while. Not after the last whore almost chopped your manhood for not giving her more coins." Zuri reminded him.

Zephyrion laughed at the memory. "I almost got castrated. That whore knew I was well off and wanted to rip me off my coins. I gave her what we agreed upon."

"Still, you made a promise to stay off women."

"I can complain about women as much as I want, but still endure them."

"That sounds contradictory."

"It’s called balance. If I am to meet my death in the hands of a seven-headed monster, I should at least have a fill of cunt."

"You’re impossible, Zephy." Zuri walked off, leaving him behind.