Return of the General's Daughter

The morning broke with a dull gray light, and with it, a heavy silence lingered over Narra Alley.

Reya was inconsolable. Her small frame shook with sobs as she clung to Jethru’s sleeve, burying her face into the rough fabric as though it could tether her to everything she was leaving behind. She murmured brokenly between her tears, repeating how she would miss the two old men, the children, and her new friends—Thalia, Zeeta, and Leah—names that had only recently become precious to her.

"If you don’t want to go, then stay," Jethru snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His brow was furrowed, his tone sharp, more from frustration than cruelty. "Why keep crying like it’s goodbye forever? You know Lara’s coming back. Unless you don’t want to come back with her."

At his words, Reya stifled her sobs, her chest still hitching. She lifted her tear-streaked face, eyes glistening, feeling aggrieved.

"Grandpa, you are so mean. Of course, I will come back." Her voice trembled, and for a moment, it seemed she might burst into tears again. But when she saw the stern expression on Jethru’s weathered face, something in her held back. The tears pooled, but refused to fall. "Still, I will miss you. Aren’t you going to miss me?"

Jethru just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

Not far off, Sandoz stood silent, shoulders stiff, his eyes darting between his sister and the people he’d grown to love. He would travel with Lara now, but what would happen when he arrived at the Capital? What came after this departure? He dreaded the silence that would follow, when home felt more like a cage than comfort.

Then, in a rush of emotion, Sandoz flung himself into Jethru’s arms, sobbing openly. His arms wrapped tightly around the old man’s waist, as if he could hold time still. Young as he was, he understood something final lingered in this moment. If his father, the Duke of Arces, forbade his return to Calma, then this place might only live on in his memories until he was old enough to decide on his own.

Jethru lifted the boy and hugged him tightly. "Hey, Sandoz," Jethru muttered, stroking the boy’s back with a calloused hand. "No need to cry like it’s the end. We’ll see each other again. We’ll come to the capital. We’ll visit soon."