"To Elyria. To him." Selene's voice was steel. "It's four days' ride if the roads are clear. You know these stones better than anyone here. You'll know if he tries to swindle us."
Nysa's heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear her own protest. "But—the unfinished orders, the—the shop—"
"I'll have Damos handle your current work while you're gone," Selene said, waving off her concern. "He'll do the stringing and clasping. You can finish the fine details when you return."
Nysa pressed her lips together, trying not to sound rude. "But… I can't go alone."
Selene paused. "Of course not." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if debating her next words. "Cara will go with you."
Nysa's breath caught.
She hadn't heard that name spoken in her direction in weeks. It fell between them like a stone dropped into water, sending invisible ripples across the surface.
Selene continued, "I know there's tension between you two. But she knows the route, and she's dealt with suppliers before. She'll keep you company, and the two of you will be safe together."
"I…" Nysa wanted to object. She wanted to say no, to ask for anyone else. She didn't want to spend four days riding in silence, or worse, being ignored, or thrown bitter glances and sharp words.
But she also couldn't say no to Selene.
Instead, she simply nodded. "All right."
Selene gave her a tight smile and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, dear. You've never let me down. You'll leave in two days. I'll have everything packed and ready."
As Selene disappeared into the back room, Nysa stood still. The workshop was suddenly too quiet. She looked down at her half-drawn pendant. Her fingers were trembling.
She wasn't sure what scared her more—being alone with Cara for four days… or what might be waiting for them on the other side of the kingdom.
---
The news of her impending journey left Nysa reeling. It had been a long month already, heavy with silence and unanswered questions. She hadn't expected to travel anywhere, not after all that had happened. Yet now, she would be leaving Windale—her home, her routine—for a place she'd never been, with a girl who had once been like a sister but now felt like a stranger.
After her conversation with Madame Selene, Nysa quietly slipped away to the back room of the shop. She needed a moment to breathe, to think. The thought of traveling alone was daunting enough, but the idea of traveling with Cara—pretending nothing had changed between them—was exhausting in itself.
She sat on a wooden crate, hands clasped tightly in her lap. The workshop buzzed softly in the background, Damos hammering lightly on a metal band, and a few apprentices chatting lowly. It was strange—how the world continued to move normally, while she felt like she was standing still.
That was how much Cara's betrayal had shaken her.
A month ago, Nysa would have never believed Cara capable of such malice. She would have defended her fiercely, certain of her loyalty. But now… now there was only silence. Cara hadn't apologized. Hadn't even approached her. And that absence had spoken louder than anything she could have said.
Nysa exhaled slowly and stood. There was no use dwelling on what had already happened. She had a trip to prepare for.
---
That evening, Nysa returned home to share the news with her uncle. Jorren was halfway through sanding a new doorframe when she entered the woodworking shed.
"Uncle," she called gently, wiping her hands on her apron.
He looked up, blinking sawdust from his lashes. "You're back early."
"I need to talk to you," she said, shifting awkwardly. "Madame Selene is sending me to the neighboring kingdom. To collect a shipment from her stone supplier. He couldn't deliver, and the shop's on a tight deadline."
Jorren straightened. "Alone?"
"No. Cara's going with me."
He gave a short grunt, something between disapproval and worry. "That's not a short trip, Nysa. You've never even left Windale."
"I know," she said quietly. "But Selene trusts me to go. And I… I want to prove I can do it."
Jorren studied her for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "All right. But be careful. Don't trust anyone you meet on the road. Keep your belongings close. And don't eat anything someone offers you unless Cara eats it first."
Nysa smiled faintly. "I'll be careful."
---
The next few days passed in a blur. Nysa packed her belongings in a simple leather satchel: two dresses, a warm shawl, her sketchbook, and a pouch of coins Madame Selene had provided. She also tucked away a small carving of a fox—one of her earliest works. A charm for safety.
Madame Selene gave her a sealed letter addressed to the supplier, and a detailed list of the specific stones needed. "Do not accept substitutions," she warned. "And weigh everything before you leave. These men will cheat you blind if you let them."
Nysa nodded, committing every instruction to memory.
Then, on the morning of departure, she arrived at the shop to find Cara already waiting with her travel bag slung over her shoulder.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
"Ready?" Cara asked, voice tight.
"Yes," Nysa said.
No hug. No smile. Just a cool acknowledgment and the reality that they were stuck with each other for the next eight days—four there, four back.
Madame Selene gave them one last run-through of instructions, then pressed a few extra coins into Nysa's hand.
"In case something happens," she said. "Don't lose the note. And don't let your emotions get in the way of your duty."
Nysa didn't miss the pointed glance toward Cara.
She nodded.
The clatter of hooves on cobblestones announced the coach's arrival—a battered but serviceable carriage pulled by two aging geldings, their coats dull with road dust. The coachman, was a grizzled man with a face like worn leather and a permanent squint from years of squinting against the sun. He spat a stream of tobacco onto the street as he pulled up, eyeing Nysa's small travel pack with a skeptical grunt.
"That all you got?" he rasped. "Ain't much for a four days ride."
Nysa tightened her grip on her bag, the weight of her tools inside a small comfort. "It's enough."
.
.