Page 81 of Homeward for a Spell

Sage kisses her again, long and lingering. “We shall. And no matter what happens, I’m by your side.”

“Always.” Araphi leans in for one more kiss, then threads her fingers through Sage’s.

Hand in hand, they walk down the forest path toward Briarwall.

Araphi has never been in a real battle before. Yes, she’s had a knife held to her throat; yes, she’s brandished a piece of firewood at a pack of barbed wolves; and yes, she’s survived a plunge into the Swallow. But this is different. The fighters stalking through the trees between them and Briarwall look battle-hardened, with long-healed scars, weapons in hand, and a dangerous glint in their eyes.

This is not what she signed up for—but it’s where she is, and at least Sage is by her side, whatever happens next.

I love you.

She squeezes the words into Sage’s hand before she lets go.

I love you.

She looks over at the ranger, who glares at the mess of fighters as she nocks an arrow.

I love you. And I will fight beside you, even if our adventure must end.

Araphi takes a deep breath and draws her slingshot, for what it’s worth. She shifts her shoulders, and the lute she brought from Arkney settles. She would very much prefer to not die here—but now, at last, she knows the full measure of her bravery. She knows who she is, who she loves, and she’s willing to fight for it.

Even if this is the first battle of many.

Still close to sixty feet away from them, the fighters block the only path forward to the gate.

“Clear the way, please!” a familiar voice calls out. “Gods, Sage Wilderstone? Araphi Clauneck? Is that really you?”

Remy pushes out from behind a clump of fighters, striding toward them. His smile is broad but doesn’t reach his eyes. Bramble and Nura trail reluctantly behind him, neither looking very pleased to be there. But something buzzes in Araphi’s brain at his greeting.

He used her real first name.

She’d never given Remy her real name, and he would have no way to know she was Araphi Clauneck unless Sage’s speculations are correct, and Araphi’s aunt has figured out she was with the party, after all. It was a slim hope that she wouldn’t…but now that hope is gone.

“Stay right there,” Sage calls out to Remy, interrupting Araphi’s racing thoughts. She pulls an arrow taut in her bow. “We don’t want trouble. We just want to talk.”

Remy stops about halfway to them, holding up his hands. “Give us the artifact, Sage. That’s all we want. We might even be able to overlook you running off with it for all these months if you hand it over now. I’m not sure you’ll ever find work again, with this stain on your reputation, but who knows? There are always people willing to hire rangers, even ones who’ve stolen from their employers.”

“We didn’t steal anything,” Sage spits out.

Araphi’s eyes fly to Bramble, who’s lurking sheepishly just beyond Remy. What stories did they tell about the night she and Sage went into the Swallow? Nura stands beside them, arms crossed, looking more wounded than angry. She thinks they’ve betrayed her, betrayed the party. If only there was some way to talk to both of them; they were friends once, after all. Party members. Companions. Surely there’s a way to smooth all of this over?

There’s always a way.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Araphi calls out, “which I hope we can solve with words instead of blades or arrows.”

Remy shrugs. “I’d be more than happy to sort it all out…after you hand over the tooth.”

“What if we don’t have it?” Araphi dares to ask.

“That would be a problem.” The agent’s eyes narrow. “A fairly insurmountable one.”

“Then we’ll do what we must,” Sage growls.

“C’mon, Sage,” Nura pleads, her knuckles standing out as she grips her staff. “You can’t mean to fight all of us.”

“We wouldn’t like to fight you at all, Nura!” Araphi pleads in return.

Bramble takes a tentative step forward. “Listen, I—”