A day before the letter arrived.
The wind cut along the hillside as the battalion crested another slope. Frost clung to the edges of the leather straps and hilts. The sun was folding behind the clouds, dragging orange streaks across the gray sky.
Hooves crunched through a frozen crust, and the path ahead turned dim, barely visible. Smoke in the distance marked the inn they planned to reach before dark.
Jeriko rode ahead, hands still gloved but loose on the reins. He didn't speak much, hadn't since they left the last rest point. Moses rode a little behind, adjusting the strap of his cloak. The silence between them wasn't awkward.
"You've been glaring at the road like it insulted you," Moses said without turning.
Jeriko didn't look at him. "It might as well have."
Moses exhaled, the breath fogging in front of him. "Still hung up on Montaro walking out of that courtroom?"
"No. I'm thrilled about it," Jeriko muttered.
The sarcasm was low, even for him. Moses nudged his horse closer, and Jeriko recognized the gesture—the same careful approach Moses had used when they were children and Jeriko's temper ran too hot. Some things never changed. Moses still thought he could manage everyone's moods, still believed the right words could fix everything.
"We've won for now. Father's free. Ven's alive. Mother confirmed it."
Jeriko didn't reply right away.
"Mother also confirmed that he almost died," Jeriko said finally.
"He survived."
"He shouldn't have needed to."
The edge in his voice wasn't anger—not exactly. It was colder than that. Stripped down. Tired.
Moses ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the horizon. "We can't solve everything at once."
Jeriko glanced at him. "Convenient excuse."
"It's reality."
They fell quiet again. The inn was a flicker in the distance now. Soldiers began murmuring among themselves at the sight.
Moses broke the silence again. "Did he seem off to you?"
"Ven?"
Moses nodded.
Jeriko considered the question seriously. Of both his brothers, Vencian had always been the hardest to read. Where Moses wore his thoughts plainly and Jeriko never bothered hiding his feelings, Vencian had learned early to keep his cards close. But lately...
"Didn't talk much," he said finally.
"That's rich coming from you."
Jeriko gave him a look. Moses ignored it.
"He kept glancing off when I spoke before leaving for capital," Moses continued. "Almost like he had something else in his mind."
Jeriko raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I guess he seemed off." Jeriko's gaze flicked to him. "The way he was talking was rather nostalgic."
"Why?"
"Don't know. He was talking to himself a lot too, though I couldn't hear much."
"You think it's because of Seris?" Moses added.
"He didn't look heartbroken when I found him."
"He's always been good at holding the line. Maybe too good." Moses paused, considering. "Though I wonder if he's more hurt by how she ended things than the ending itself."
"What do you mean?"
"A letter, Jeriko. After years of courtship, she sends a letter."
Jeriko's expression darkened. He'd liked Seris—genuinely liked her.
She had a quick wit and didn't simper around their family's reputation like most noble daughters. He'd even thought Vencian was lucky to have her interest.
"I didn't take Seris for a shallow person."
Moses sighed. "That makes two of us."
The disappointment in his brother's voice mirrored his own. They'd both been wrong about her character, it seemed.
Behind them, hoofbeats approached at a steady rhythm. Their father rode up from behind.
Caesor Vicorra's armor wasn't ceremonial—it never was. Jeriko had never seen his father in anything but functional steel, even during peacetime.
The same scar, one Jeriko had seen since childhood, ran along his father's cheek. The same straight back, the same clarity in his voice.
The trial hadn't dulled him, but Jeriko could see new lines around his eyes. Subtle changes others might miss, but a son noticed. The ordeal had cost their father, even in victory.
"I've been thinking," Caesor said without preamble. "About the Valemonts."
Jeriko and Moses exchanged a glance.
"We too," Moses said.
"Oh. Then it will make the conversation easy. I am thinking of making a journey to Angante duchy."
"For what?" Jeriko asked.
"To make her Grace, reconsider her decision."
Moses looked uneasy. "They abandoned us."
Caesor's voice stayed level. "They control a duchy. And we need strong allies. We've seen what happens when you stand alone."
"I agree," Moses said, "but not with the Valemonts. They turned their backs the moment it mattered."
Jeriko added, "He's right."
Caesor's expression tightened. "They did. But abandoning us doesn't make them weak allies—it makes them practical ones. And right now, practical might be what we need."
"Practical?" Jeriko's voice was sharp. "They threw us to the wolves."
"Because they thought we'd lose." Caesor's tone remained level. "Now that we've won, they might reconsider."
Jeriko nearly laughed at the cold calculation in his father's voice. This kind of thinking had put them in this position.
"And if they don't?"
Caesor was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Then what do you suggest?"
"here is something I've been meaning to tell," Moses said. "In return for his help in the trial, I made a deal with duke Hadethon Dawnforge."
"What kind of?"
"I'm going to take the hand of his second daughter, Adaorys, in a marriage."
"That cursed cripple?" The words escaped before Jeriko could stop them. He saw his father's expression darken.
"Son, there was no need—"
"There was," Moses said, voice firm. "And I've given my word. I can't go back on it."
He met their eyes without flinching.
"That's why there's no reason to go chasing Valemonts anymore. We have an alliance. A clean one. One that owes us nothing but what was promised."
Jeriko looked away first, muttering under his breath.
Caesor's expression hardened, unreadable under the fading light.
"You should have told us earlier," Caesor said.
"I wanted to tell him first," Moses nudged his chin toward Jeriko. "He's going to take it worse than you."
"I'm still taking it," Jeriko muttered.
For a moment, none of them said anything. The magnitude of what Moses had done—binding himself to a stranger to save their family—settled over them.
Caesor reached over and gripped Moses's shoulder briefly. "Your mother will be proud. And worried. But proud."
"And Father?"
"Your father is grateful his son understands what duty means."
Moses nodded, something easing in his posture. Even Jeriko felt his anger cooling.
This was how their family had always worked—arguments flaring hot then settling into understanding. They might disagree, might even fight, but they stood together when it mattered. The trial had proven that, if nothing else.
Moses had made his choice. Now they'd all live with it.
The inn still sat in the distance, a faint glow against the dimming horizon. The column pressed on toward it, horses slowing as the road narrowed near the treeline. The last light of the day stretched thin across the hills, leaving long shadows over the path.
It was then that the steady rhythm of another horse broke through the march. A rider came fast from the flank, cutting toward the front.
"My Lord!" A soldier called out as he rode up fast. "There's someone ahead on the road—alone."
Jeriko straightened. "A traveler?"
"No, my lord. He's not moving. Standing in the middle of the path. Said he won't let us pass unless he speaks to the Vicorras."
That got all three of them looking.