Ashes and Oaths

Chapter 69: Sharing the News

As they walked through the winding corridors of the estate, Luz’s eyes scanned every shadow, every doorway. Old habits die hard; even in a place of supposed peace, he was a commander looking for threats. But as the air grew warmer and the scent of Jasmin and old stone replaced the sulphur of the battlefield, his pace slower as they entered a central passage. The hallways stretched forward in a long, symmetrical corridor, with a stone staircase at the far end leading to a lower level. The hallway is illuminated multiple candles circling a large wrought-iron chandelier fixture in the centre of the ceiling and candle sconces lining either side of the corridor.

A wooden sideboard stands on the left side of the hallway, crafted from dark polished wood, with a vase with flowers on top. A narrow table lines the right-side wall, positioned under a portrait of a mountain range. Further down the corridor, several chairs like the right and left side, providing resting places for visitors or household members. The rich red carpet decorated my intricate geometric and floral patterns muted the sound of Luz’s footsteps as he approached the first door on the right. “Lady Escuridade,” he said quietly, not looking at her, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. “Is she safe? Truly safe? No tricks, no games from Mestre?” he stopped in front of a set of heavy oak doors, his hand hovering near the latch.

“I can’t lose her,” Luz said, more to himself than to Lady Escuridade. “Not after everything.” He turned the handle slowly. The room beyond was bathed in soft candlelight. The scent of lavender and woodsmoke hung in the air, and there, sitting by the hearth, was Amelia. She looked smaller, here, stripped of the chaos of the city, or the terror of the marching army. “She is safe,” Lady Escuridade reassured him. “And she will remain so as long as she is with you.” Luz’s hand dropped from the doorframe. He did not look at Lady Escuridade. He could not. His amber eyes were fixed on Amelia, and for a long moment, he simple stood there, a shadow in black plate amidst the soft glow of the heart.

Across the fireplace, stood a large four-poster bed crafter from dark wood. Thick carved posts rise from each corner and support an ornate canopy overhead. Deep red curtains hand from the canopy, partially drawn back to reveal the bed itself. The bedding consists of layered blankets and pillows in muted shades of burgundy, drown and cream. At the foot of the bed sits a substantial wooden chest, matching the dark timer of the bed frame. On the wall at the back of the room, there was a tall narrow window with pointed Gothic arches that allowed the soft daylight to filter into the room. Beneath the window stood a wooden writing desk with a chair and various small objects rested on the desktop.

A large red tapestry hung on the wall beside the desk, embroidered upon it is a heraldic lion emblem. Addition decorative shields and wall hangings hung on the wall around the room. The floor was partially covered by an elaborate patterned run extending beneath the bed and featuring intricate motifs in shades of red, gold and brown. Beside the door where Luz stood, heavy wooden furniture and draped curtains occupied the darker portion of the chamber. Luz approached slowly, the heavy clatter of his armour muffled y the thick rug, making his approach almost silent. “Amelia,” he said. His voice was stripped of its command, it cold iron edge entirely gone. It was just the voice of the boy who had sat at her family’s table, the knight who had promised to come back safe.

Luz stopped a few paces from Amelia, his gloved hand rising as if to reach out, the hesitating in mid-air. “Hey,” she said softly. “What did Mestre Escuro want?” His hand dropped back to his side. He did not sit; his body seemed to large, too jagged for the softness of the room. He stood by the heart, the candlelight catching the ash-silver of his hair and the unsettling glow of his amber eyes. “He wants Estrela Astuta,” Luz said, his voice low and measured. “The woman in charge of the Santo’s order. He wants me to bring her to him.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “He is offering a deal, Amelia. A way out. I I do this, he says he can free me from this darkness. He says we can… build something.” He finally looked at her– really looked at her– and for a split second, the amber in his eyes vanished completely.

Amelia looked excited. “Free you?” she echoed. “Build something? Build what?” Luz’s breath hitched. The way she said it– with excitement instead of fear– sent a jolt through him that no blade ever could. He looked down at his gauntleted hand, the one hiding the white ribbon, and for the first time, he did not feel like he was hiding a wound. He felt like he was holding onto a lifeline. “A life,” he said, his voice cracking. “A real one. Not this– not being a ghost in black armour.” He took a step closer, then another, until her was standing near the hearth. The heat from the fire seemed to draw the darkness further back. “No more wars, Amelia. No more orders. Just… somewhere where nobody knows my name as a traitor.”

“You are… you are talking about a normal life… with me?” Amelia asks hesitantly. Then she excitedly jumps into Luz’s arms and wraps her arms around his shoulders. The impact of her body against his was sudden, a collision of warmth and weight that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. His arms, encased in black plate, froze for a heartbeat– a soldier’s reflex, waiting for a strike that never came. Then, his hands moved. He pulled her in, his gauntlets gripping her shoulders with a desperate, trembling strength. The metal of his armour was cold against her skin, but beneath it, he was burning. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath ragged and uneven. “Yes,” he choked out, the word catching in his throat. “With you. Only with you.”