These Ivory Swords

| Chapter Seven |

Wind rinsed over the stone village of Chiori Faire's capitol as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Violet light wrapped around the taller statues, while darkness fell through the streets.

Sorein leaned against the tower's highest point where he overlooked them, vision focused on a faint sliver of the Yinea sea. His gaze hardened as the night grew.

"Sorein," a deep voice called from the garden path. "You won't find anything up there."

He cast his gaze down to Jeremy, who only just managed to pull on his Azurian uniforms yesterday. His Captain was still limping when he walked, attempting to mask the pain on his face from what the Taqrias had done to him.

His brown eyes scanned over Sorein with a critical, dissecting haze. "Come down."

Sorein's brow raised in response.

"You'll need to come down eventually."

He exhaled through his nose, feeling the chill of darkness creeping into the space between him and the city. With one last glance at the distant ocean, he allowed himself to skid down the peaked roofing until he could jump down.

"Have you seen Destry since the trial?" he asked, ignoring the concern in his friend's glare.

"No," Jeremy replied. "Just like Ezre, she'd been meeting with emissaries and officials alone."

Sorein nodded, mentally reminding himself to investigate her involvement in the trial.

She'd been nursing a guilty expression since Iliya disappeared from the estate and he couldn't shake the idea that she had something to do with it.

"Don't do anything stupid," Jeremy reminded him as they stalked into the main foyer.

He didn't have the energy.

His plan was simply to listen to Ezre's nonsense long enough to take his leave and investigate the real locations Iliya might've been. He only had to play along for a couple weeks before the king caved.

"I'm not Noah," he said, smirking.

"I take offense to that," his former Diplomat chimed, casually leaning against one of the many columns in the dining hall.

Sorein hated himself for tensing at Noah's presence. The tension between them felt like a wildfire he couldn't tame–especially not when his friend's behavior seemed off.

"Look who decided to show up," Jeremy said, chuckling. "The get-up suits you."

Noah rolled his eyes, raking a hand through his hair. "You're finally out of bed, I see. Where's all that Fae healing when you need it?"

The banter tasted sour on his lips, as if the relationship between the three of them had gone stale.

Sorein's teeth locked together.

The sound of boots hitting the stone beneath them sent him turning to face the west corridor, much of which was foreign to him save for the Celestial Tower.

When Rhydian entered the hall, fully equipped with enough blades and armor for war, his blood froze.

Iliya's cousin eyed the group warily before passing through and pointing toward the Grand Archive. He didn't speak as he disappeared down the winding staircase.

"Guess that's our cue," Noah muttered, shoving off and walking after him.

Sorein observed his comfortable demeanor, relaxing into the black militia gear of a RIM agent. The way Noah stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his long, black trench coat. The sword strapped to his hip.