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Chapter Text

Pema grew up somewhere in the remotest part of that country.

Nothing extraordinary happened in her village. Despite being known as a coastal country where boats stole our breath, she belonged to that small group that built a home among the mountains, surrounded by forests that kept them separate from major events, both good and bad.

She was the youngest of six sisters, born a few months after her father's death and considered a gift, compensation for his loss. Her mother was especially protective of her little girl from the beginning. Many harshly judged her decision not to remarry due to the "instability" she subjected her daughters to, depriving them of a father. But she stood firm to show that her efforts were more than enough to sustain her home. Pema grew up admiring that drive; she saw in her mother the kind of woman she wanted to become... However, Pema was different.

While the others reveled in the spring flowers, enjoyed the winds that came down from the valleys, and found travelers their greatest source of amusement, Pema had a different distraction. She could distinguish the small silhouettes dancing among the undergrowth, supported by their wings. She saw the little men hiding in the corners of the houses and the whispers of the river that sought to attract the unwary. At first, she was afraid of this power. Her own mother took her to the town healer to get rid of this peculiarity. However, the old man knew how to calm both of them and show them that a gift given by the spirits is always a blessing.

He taught Pema to distinguish and deal with the different creatures that surrounded them, to obtain benefits from them without overstepping their boundaries. In their secluded sector they did not have to deal with complex things like griffins or sphinxes. Their pastoral fairies played among the fields and gardens causing small pranks. The elves would be harmless if you shared your food. The gas spheres shone in the distance hoping to awaken the greed of the ignorant. And so, without further ado, Pema grew up learning to till the fields and intercede between common civilians and the creatures of the spirit world.

Her mother kept her reservations about this acquired responsibility until one particular day, while autumn rose in all its splendor Pema walked around the Alondras grove in search of an herb that only grew at that time of year that the healer had entrusted to her, her basket and her cloak were her only tools for such a mission that she took as an excuse to look for the honey fairies, who woke up in the cold seasons to guard nature, they lacked wings and jumped between the branches playfully, Pema tried to call them with some melody that simulated their songs, she whistled a couple of notes and waited, she had to make at least four attempts before getting an answer, full of enthusiasm she continued following the sound until she reached the edges of a lagoon.

The scene was still peaceful and bright, yet the lagoon was new to her. Despite years of wandering through that small forest, she had never encountered that body of water. Pema leaned a little toward the shore, appreciating the strange leaves floating on the surface. She whistled again and got a response. From the depths of the lagoon, something was duetting with her song... A thought crossed her mind. Could it be a mermaid? Pema had heard a couple of stories about them from travelers, who praised their song as the most melodious in the world, capable of healing the sick and making the dead smile. Beautiful as a sunset and as elusive as water waves. Her village was miles from the sea. Pema knew it was more likely the mountain would move than she would ever see a mermaid... Perhaps that's why she clung to the ridiculous possibility that one had made it to that strange lagoon.

The young woman leaned on the shore and continued the chant, getting excited when she saw a silhouette approaching from the depths corresponding to her chant, bright eyes peeked out discreetly and contemplated her, the hair looked like an amalgamation of algae and lacked eyelashes or eyebrows, even so the creature was fascinating, Pema froze not knowing what to do, unlike the creature that timidly took its hand out of the water, there was a strange membrane connecting its fingers and long blackened nails, Pema held out her hand again hoping to take it when a shot broke the silence that enveloped them, the creature quickly submerged itself in the water without a trace while one of the villagers approached in a hurry, taking Pema away from the lake.

He spent the entire walk back home yelling at her about how stupid she was to approach an undine. Apparently, that creature, a distant relative of the sirens, had been moving through underground water channels and had already killed several girls in other communities. The man, returning from trading his pigs in one of these affected villages, came with the news to warn the community.

Pema was harshly scolded by her mother and forbidden to move around alone, like other girls her age, until one night in early spring, news arrived that the undine had been caught. Pema remembered going with her family to the square to see the passing caravan displaying the creature's body, with a long, slimy tail and very long red hair under the seaweed. Its enormous eyes, once glowing like lanterns, lay extinguished. Its chest, pierced by plow forks, had ceased to breathe.

That image would haunt Pema in her dreams for the rest of her life.

She could understand that anyone who harmed others would be harmed in return, but she couldn't handle the immeasurable pain of witnessing the agony of another living being. Her enormous empathy and spiritual gifts led the town healer to speak with the young woman's mother about sending her to a convent where she could be cultivated as a priestess. Very few people were born with such abilities these days; allowing her to exploit her gifts would be the wise choice. Although her mother initially refused, her older sisters encouraged the proposal; one of them even got a job in the nearest city to send home the textbooks required for Pema to prepare for the entrance exams. The possibility of traveling and experiencing all the wonders the world held filled her with enthusiasm, however, life wasn't known for paving its paths with flowers.

At the dawn of her sixteenth birthday, Pema had to watch her mother fall seriously ill. Just a few months after her fifth sister left home to form a home with her husband, the family's matron, Miryam, fell prey to acute pain that would not be relieved with any treatment. All her daughters returned their attention home, sending medicine, food, and money to support her. However, only Pema could stay home to care for her. The possibility of leaving the place and living with one of her other daughters existed, but that had been the home Miryam had built with her husband; the thought of abandoning it tortured her.

Months began to pass in this new routine until they turned into years. The texts gathered dust in a corner, and the dream of becoming a priestess became as distant as the clouds in the sky. Pema stopped visiting the healer regularly and became just another farmer, dealing alone with the responsibilities of the home and her ailing mother.

Although she was a dreamer and full of ambition, she was still a loyal woman.

On the eve of her twentieth birthday, she allowed herself to leave the village to buy fabric from a caravan stationed in the neighboring community. A family friend stayed to look after Miryam while Pema rode her horse. Winter was approaching once again, and she needed to make new clothes… Pema wouldn't lie; although she had to finish that as soon as possible to continue her chores at home, she couldn't help but be distracted by the curiosities the caravan was selling. She spent some of the money she had saved to buy a bestiary and a bracelet made of tiny seashells. These little whims fed her spirit, unable to be satisfied with the mundane life of the countryside.

Upon returning to her village, the sun was already beginning to set behind the mountains. Night didn't bother Pema. She carried a very sharp plowing sickle that she wouldn't hesitate to use if the situation forced her to... Perhaps that's why when she saw a body lying on the road, her heart leapt. She made sure to look around, trying to spot other people. It was said that at some crossroads, bandits would use one of them to fake illness to make the unwary lower their guard, so the others could ambush them. She wasn't that stupid! But she wasn't heartless enough to just leave him. She got off her horse and drew her sword while she examined the body. It was a man older than her, his skin sunken into his bones. Pema moved him with difficulty, discovering on his cloak the seal of the Wanderers, those priests who traveled the country bringing knowledge to the communities.

In her lifetime, she'd seen about four at most. It was the shock of that emblem that made her lose all caution; without hesitation, she lifted him onto her horse and took him home. His mother threw a cup over his head when she heard her resolve to nurse him back to consciousness. Her neighbors looked at her suspiciously, murmuring that the confinement of her work and the lack of a husband were already taking their toll. But Pema ignored them and continued with her work, turning again to the healer, now quite elderly, who explained the ins and outs of caring for the helpless. Under such care, the traveler took less than two weeks to regain consciousness.

He introduced himself as Tenzin, showering Pema with thanks for her generosity. Apparently, he had been attacked by robbers while crossing the forests and had not made it to a village before losing his mind on the way. To show his gratitude for the attention received, Tenzin offered to help Pema with the preparations for winter, mainly those that involved repairing the house at Miryam's request, however the guy was terrible at the simplest activities, Pema had to instruct him in all the details, a task that would have been tedious if it weren't for the fact that Tenzin learned quickly, and while they were there repairing the roof, reinforcing the stable or collecting firewood he wouldn't stop talking about everything he had witnessed throughout his pilgrimages.

It was obvious he was no ordinary commoner. His mannerisms were elegant, and his way of speaking denoted a high level of education. Pema never tired of asking questions, of expressing her own ideas and finally building a conversation between equals. That winter she enjoyed it in a way she didn't think anyone could enjoy. She tried strange dishes that Tenzin improvised using his notes. The thieves hadn't found his notes interesting, despite them being the most valuable thing he carried.

Tenzin took advantage of the community meetings in the village hall to fulfill his duties as a priest. He taught all kinds of classes to interested young people, from basic astrology to detailed studies of biology. People quickly improved their image of the man. Some sought to delve deeper into his past, to find out what anecdotes he had to share about his life before becoming a priest. But Tenzin evaded those interrogations with a smile, always diverting attention to things more pleasant for him. Pema didn't deny being just as interested as the others, but she preferred his affable smile a thousand times over his concealed anguish. She wanted to make him feel at ease, at home.

The routine they built after that chance encounter on a road stretched for almost two years before Tenzin had to leave for the next village. The community saw him off with a small banquet, and the warden joked that he should shed his habit and thank her appropriately for the attention, hinting at the possibility of marrying Pema, who was quite in love with him by now.

Everyone there knew this and showered Tenzin with hints to do something. But he only smiled somewhat ruefully and left in his hostess's hands the brooch that had made her decide to take him home. He left her with the promise of writing to her, and disappeared into the distance as if it had been a dream. Pema had to return home and contemplate the looms they had embroidered together, the furniture they had repaired, the books they had acquired. She sat by the fireplace, and even though the fire was almost licking her skirts, she felt desolate.

It was the first time she had fallen in love.

She had never hoped to be loved in return; she knew that when you swore vows to the Wanderers, he renounced the idea of starting a family. Tenzin's kindness was simply one of his many virtues; that twinkle in his eyes when he looked at her was only a mirage, an illusion created by his own desires. The sadness of his departure stayed with her until the end of the summer. Pema didn't allow her routine to return to what it had been before. With the warden's permission, she began teaching the children twice a week in the community hall. This not only fulfilled her, but also assuaged the invasive questions about marriage that others were beginning to ask her.

She was in the prime of her youth, and custom dictated that she should be married and start a family. However, she didn't aspire to give her life to someone just to meet certain requirements; she wanted to fall in love with whoever would share a bed with her.

Like her parents, like those stories she learned to read, full of sweet promises and kindred spirits bound by fate.
Perhaps that's why, when six months after her departure, she saw Tenzin approaching without the priest's robes draped over his shoulders, her heart filled with joy. She abandoned the basket on the ground and ran into his arms without a second thought. The spirits had been indulgent with her and had granted her ridiculous dream of being reciprocated by that enigmatic man.

The community celebrated as if they had won a lucrative bet; the wedding was held in the plaza with the last flowers that summer had offered. Since Tenzin was a man who had renounced any inheritance when he joined the Wanderers in the past, he had no land of his own to return to with Pema, and could have stayed with her in the village, in that home to which Miryam clung tooth and nail. This time, however, Tenzin had returned with a lot of money that he claimed to have received from his mentor for his services to the Wanderers after resigning.

They expanded the house and acquired sheep, land, and tools to make work easier. Some young people began to work for them. Tenzin shook hands with several neighbors and helped them expand their businesses. Beneath the image of a scholar, there was a hidden leader, who gently pushed others toward a modernity that had previously been alien to them.

Pema reveled a little in those changes, even being able to have her own space in which to teach the children. The others saw her as an example of dedication. She was no longer "the poor women trapped with her sick mother" but "the blessed woman" who, in the most imaginative way possible, found a perfect man to fix her life... A new perspective that Pema disliked, but which she ignored, since her joys wouldn't stop with financial prosperity, as before her first year of marriage, her first pregnancy arrived.

Ah, happiness.

Her sisters returned from their homes to celebrate, showering her with advice and small gifts, taking the opportunity to meet Tenzin and embarrass their little sister with anecdotes from the past. They were so intoxicated with their happiness that no one would have expected that just a few weeks later Miryam would die. The town warden visited the couple and recommended they hire someone to cleanse the house's energies so that the funeral rites wouldn't affect the unborn child. Tenzin took care of all the preparations while his wife came to terms with the situation. Death was no stranger to her, but she had seen such improvement in her mother that a part of her clung to the possibility that she would be with her for a few more years, that she would at least be able to meet her baby. She wept long and hard in her husband's arms for her loss and allowed herself, little by little, to regain her strength.

She wasn't alone; she didn't have to carry that home on her shoulders like a heavy burden, not anymore.

The months passed gently as she regained her routine. A young lady became her assistant at school now that her belly was growing, the town was beginning to expand, and for the first time in a long time, Pema allowed herself to think about that undine from her past.

Her image hadn't haunted her for a long time. However, that afternoon, as she headed home after being captured by the warden outside school, she remembered it like a funereal omen. The warden was ready to retire and had extended an invitation to her and Tenzin to have dinner at his house soon, which meant, in other words, that he had appointed his successor. Did that bother Pema? She couldn't make a judgment yet... Her husband was already acting like a leader and getting involved in everything the community asked of him.

It was so natural to him that it seemed strange at times. Despite the fact that they were now a family, Tenzin still kept things to himself. Pema had never heard anything concrete about his family, only vague mentions of an event that had broken their relationship and led him to join the Wanderers to atone for his sin. Whatever he had done seemed to torment him deeply, judging by the way his gaze cracked when he tried to speak about it. Pema couldn't imagine what horrible thing that man could have done to upset him like that, but she respected his grief.

The important thing was their present together, the future they were building for their baby. She shouldn't get bogged down in irrelevant things... Or so she told herself until that moment, when upon arriving home, instead of being greeted by the fragrant garden where little fairies no longer hid, she was greeted by a caravan of armored men with banners of a gray wolf surrounded by a blizzard.

The symbol of the Royal Family.

The townspeople crowded the streets to watch the parade. Armored knights wearing heavy cloaks were leaving their community at dawn, pulling three modest carriages that obscured their view of the interior. Their banners had been folded away so they could no longer be associated with the Royal family at first glance. The shields of the Warg army, as the crown's forces were called, were covered by their cloaks, and the sound of metal and wood advancing was all that preceded them.

They had been in the village less than an hour, and the first to emerge from the surprise rush to the house of the former priest and Pema, discovering that there was no trace of either of them; like in a grim fairy tale, they had vanished into the hands of those knights.

It would be a long time before they heard anything more of that enigmatic couple.

Chapter Text

Traveling in a carriage wasn't for everyone.

Pema had never ridden one of that style before. The closest thing she could remember were the wagons used to transport wheat. When her older sisters moved to other towns, they would sometimes take her along in those wagons. However, that was an unfair comparison. This carriage wasn't like those wagons, nor did this Pema resemble the little girl she had been back then, starting with the small detail that she was already six months pregnant.

The carriage was modest on the outside, but very well-equipped on the inside, furnished with expensive-feeling fabrics in shades of blue Pema had never seen before. The curtains kept out the cold at night and kept the air cool during the day, probably due to a spell. These were the kinds of luxuries that wealthy families could afford. Pema swallowed and looked at her husband, sitting across from her, shrugging his shoulders. Despite being a tall man, he looked like a deflated puppet at that moment. They'd been on this journey for three days and hadn't spoken a word to each other... Mainly because Pema refused.

Tenzin had welcomed her into his home and put her on that carriage without explaining anything, promising her they'd have time to sort things out. He ignored her pleas and focused only on talking to those gentlemen who worried the poor woman so much. She was surrounded by metal helmets, by people who acted like she was just another decoration in the room, locked in a plush box that shook with every turn, eating reserves of bland flavors.

By the time her husband wanted to sit down and talk, she was determined to return the favor. Their relationship had been based on being equals, on giving each other the best versions of themselves.

At the first slap she wouldn't turn the other cheek, no, she would match the blow.

Tenzin took a deep breath. He knew he had to get the words out, or they'd never get over it. His wife was still a young woman with a simple life. She had every right to be upset if he dragged her out of the house and into the unknown at a moment's notice.

– Honey... I... I know I owe you an explanation – Tenzin began, watching as she feigned interest in the curtains so she wouldn't see him. – This was unexpected. I didn't think... My past would come back.

That was the key phrase, the one that made a click in Pema's head. This whole circus couldn't have been set up by some rich kid. The man she'd picked up that day on the road was more than just a "rich kid."

– You never mentioned it. It can't be important, right?

Those words contained all the venom Pema could muster. While her mother was alive, she warned her that she must get that information out of her husband, that she couldn't build a home with a man with no past. A man like that was no different than a tree without roots; sooner or later, he would fall under his own weight. But of course! She was so in love that she decided to ignore that advice... And now the tree was falling on top of her.

– It shouldn't have happened... I... My ties were completely broken. I was disinherited and removed from the family tree, Pema, I... I'm dead to them.

Pema pierced him with her gaze; those gentle green eyes that always held tenderness for him seemed like the thorns of a rose, waiting for him to reach out to wound him. – Do you think there's anything that can "kill" a son? Did they hate you so much that they made you believe they could forget you? Everyone... Everyone has forgiveness for their blood. Sooner or later, they would find mercy for their son.

Tenzin retreated, absorbing the words, crafting a suitable response, but Pema didn't want to hear it. Rage and pregnancy hormones were boiling in her head. She didn't want to be understanding, she didn't want to wait and listen. Put herself in her husband's shoes? No, she wasn't ready to give in yet. Pema banged on the wall, demanding they stop. She'd realized that when she demanded things instead of asking nicely, they were granted immediately.

The carriage stopped, and the door opened. Tenzin was abandoned inside. The sunlight frightened Pema's eyes. She couldn't recognize where they were. Surrounded by trees she didn't even recognize, the landscape seemed to berate her. The only human intervention in sight was the path they were traveling on. Several knights continued to watch her from the safety of their hooves. The feeling of being a small animal in the middle of a pack grew in Pema's heart.

– Are you all right, madame?

That voice didn't help. When Pema turned, she saw the only man she could distinguish from the guard, the only one who had spoken to her. His tone was honeyed and arrogant, like poison hidden in a candy. His cape had the most intricate embroidery, and his helmet had the most colorful feathers. Every pore in Pema screamed at her to keep her distance from that man... Besides, the way he called her "madame" felt more like a mockery than a show of cordiality.

– I want to walk.

– Go ahead, I have things to discuss with your husband anyway. Don't get lost – the opulent knight crooned as if giving instructions to a puppy. However, Tenzin hurried out of the carriage. He seemed to know the man and had the same perception as his wife, or even worse.

– The forest is dangerous, and you know it. Why would you authorize such a thing?

– Don't accuse me. I won't send you alone – the knight clarified, signaling to one of his companions. Pema didn't pause to reconsider, hurrying toward the trees. She wasn't a highborn young lady! Unfamiliar with the wilderness or anything like that, she'd learned to climb trees and disassemble weapons before she was ten. She didn't want to be guarded by those tin men. In the background she heard her husband's calls, keeping a firm pace until her feet began to demand that she stop, surrounded by trees she had never seen before, listening to the funereal silence of nature, there were no little fairies playing anywhere, nor elves frolicking among the roots, Pema was miles from home with a man she didn't know as she would like to, surrounded by metallic figures without a shred of empathy. Pema sat on the ground with tears escaping her face, the baby in her womb shook and despair clouded her thoughts, in the midst of her whirlwind of emotions a hand came out from his side and held out a handkerchief.

Pema looked up and saw him, a knight like any other, distinguished only by the color of his cloak, a simple piece of olive-green cloth. His helmet didn't even have plumes. The only accessory that stood out was the whip hanging from the right side of his belt. His sword was like any other, but that whip was a reminder that his simplicity had a reason, and Pema didn't want to find out what it was.

She accepted the handkerchief, a soft silk. Pema didn't even really wear it. Her eyes wandered into the embroidery in the corners, filled with starfish and shells of various shapes. It had no initials or family crests, just small treasures from the sea, carved with the longing of someone who misses home.

– Ah... Thank y-you... Thank you... It's beautiful. Did they embroider it for you?

The knight didn't answer, just tilted his head, as if he didn't understand her question. Pema felt a little foolish, but she desperately needed to talk to someone and clear her mind.

– My… My sisters embroider handkerchiefs for their husbands… It's like a gesture… A declaration of love – Pema doesn't know why she explains it. What is she doing seeking support from that man? He wouldn't have followed her if he hadn't been ordered to; he was as cold as the metal that surrounded him. – Or did you just buy it? Do they sell these things in the capital?

Again, there's no response, at least not verbal. The gentleman gestures for her to wipe her face. Pema frowns, thinking of all sorts of things. Is she so beneath him that she can't speak to him? She thinks about throwing him the handkerchief, about returning a gram of the contempt everyone seems to have for her. However, as she stands up, dizziness attacks her and she loses strength in her legs. The knight holds her firmly, taking the handkerchief from her to wipe her face himself before putting it back in some crack in his armor, all with enough delicacy that the poor woman wonders if she really wore metal or if it was all a product of her nerves.

Pema allows herself to lean against the icy metal, confirming to herself that it's not fake, slowly regaining her footing, observing the sign the gentleman makes, implying the action of vomiting, as if asking her about that possible symptom... Then she knew: He wasn't talking! Guilt came along with the stability and shame, Pema separated herself from the gentleman, shaking her head. What was she doing? She wasn't some kind of rabid animal that bites those who reach out to her; her mother hadn't raised her like that... She had to return to the others, to her husband. If she didn't reconcile things, problems would be the ones that would take root.

She couldn't allow things to get dark, and she would start by returning the gentleman's gesture.

– Excuse me, this is... This is new to me, I don't know what to do.

The knight made an inhale-exhale gesture and then pointed to her swollen belly. Of course, she was pregnant, it was probably her most noticeable feature, and she wouldn't deny the knight's advice; her priority, even above her relationship with her husband, should be her baby. Pema returned to the carriages, guarded by that man, who ended up giving Pema his handkerchief completely when she asked for it. He wasn't going to let her have it after soiling it. What little she knew of protocol indicated that she should return it as neatly as it had been offered to her.

They found the carriages ready to leave. Tenzin seemed much more stressed than usual, but there was no time to give each other more space. Pema had to address this to understand what she was dealing with. She wasn't planning on getting a divorce; it was either adapt or die. So when they got back inside the carriage, Pema dropped the bombshell.

– What family do you come from?

– Huh?

– Your family? What's it? – Pema hardly knew any family crests; that world was foreign to her. It wasn't about skilled elves or bouncing fairies; it was a more trivial topic she didn't spend her time on. She knew that schools taught this knowledge elsewhere, but small towns like hers existed far from the aristocracy, ignorant of its intricacies... But there she was, ready to fully enter that world.

– ... Royalty... I am the... The third son of the crown.

Tenzin watched as his wife's face paled. He wanted to offer her something sweet to ease the shock. He felt guilty for not saying anything sooner. He could have spared her this moment, but no. He decided to keep it to himself, and now he had to pay the consequences by hurting the woman who had given him a home.

He was still a flawed man.

– Are you a prince?

– I was… For many years I was… I'm not the heir or anything like that. My brothers were the crowned ones, the… Raised to rule. I was more like… A scholar, sent to other countries to make friends, a… A bargaining chip.

Who they should have married off to form alliances with other countries, Pema knew that part. She'd read enough books to know that the firstborn rules the country, while those who come before him increase their power by marrying great leaders and defending their countries in foreign courts... But her husband didn't do it. Instead of living in a castle with a princess, he wanted to be a peasant with a commoner.

A commoner! Of all the words Pema could have used to describe herself, that one would definitely never have been contemplated.

– Why? H-how did you separate from them?

Tenzin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was a long story he didn't want to recall, one that continued to creep under his skin, a debt he hadn't repaid, a sin unredeemed.

– …I betrayed my brother… He trusted me, and I betrayed him… He was very, very merciful to me and forgave me. He allowed me to start over as a priest in exchange for me giving up my life as a prince… And that's what I did, because even that was more than I deserved.

Pema frowned, confused. What kind of betrayal was that? She couldn't imagine her husband plotting for the throne. Tenzin wasn't greedy; he gave everything he had to others without expecting much in return. Had there been, in the past, an immeasurable thirst for power? That great man she had fallen in love with might not always have been like this. Pema placed a hand on her stomach in concern. People were like the seasons, transitioning without stopping under the relentless passage of time. That kind brother who forgave a slip could have changed his mind, could be ready to exact revenge.

An awkward smile tugged at Pema's lips. She wanted to raise her gaze to the heavens and ask the spirits what the hell she had done to keep her from being happy. Every great moment in her life had to be paid for with some tragedy... And she wasn't ready for what was coming.

– Do you know why he sent for you?

– ...It was my mother's request...She wants me to help them with something.

Pema knew they were hiding information from her again. Tenzin hadn't stopped talking to that pompous knight. He must have many details about the reason for their trip. Pema wanted all those details, but she couldn't demand them. The wagon stopped and the door opened. They had arrived at an inn. After so many days, they would finally have a decent bed to rest in while the horses rested in shelter and they stocked up on supplies for the rest of the journey. They were heading towards the capital, and the atmosphere grew more tense as they advanced. Pema could hear several murmurs about dangerous creatures lurking along the roads. Pema's prayers begged that this tragedy wouldn't reach her hometown. She held out hope that when she returned, she would find everything exactly the same... It was the least she could ask for, right?

Suddenly, she wanted to cling to her husband, to hold him close to reassure herself that they would be okay, but Tenzin kept being summoned by that pesky knight. This time, she intervened, demanding that she stay. But Tenzin couldn't grant her wish. He couldn't read her real concern and thought his wife was terrified by the rumors, telling her she would be personally guarded by a knight if it would make her feel safer.

Pema felt that like a mockery; stress was taking its toll on their connection. Years of treating each other as if they were thinking with the same mind, only to suddenly not understand even the most explicit requests. Pema made her last effort not to take it the wrong way, specifically asking the knight in the green cloak, if she was going to be trapped in a room with a stranger at least it would be one of her choosing.