Chapter 108 No Sleep for the Weary
The party in the plaza showed no signs of stopping. Daisy stood on the north balcony, leaning against the cold rail. A frayed thread scratched her fingers as she listened to music and laughter drifting up like smoke from a fire she couldn’t join—the sour smell of spilled ale mixed with the cool night air. Below, mages and militia danced in a rough circle, their boots thudding on flagstones still wet from the morning rain. She saw Delia laughing, her voice clear above the noise, even as she wiped a nosebleed with a handkerchief the color of old wine.
From up here, Brightwater looked almost peaceful. Mage-lights hid the city’s scars, making rooftops shimmer and alleys glow. Beneath that glow, a partially collapsed tower stood out against the skyline, its shape a reminder of recent sieges. A scorched emblem clung to its walls, blackened by fire. Windows flickered, as if everyone inside wanted to believe the world would last one more day.
She wished she could feel proud. Instead, the weight of her promises pressed down on her, the certainty of their looming cost eclipsing any sense of achievement. Each oath made in the square now felt like both a shield and a trap, binding her more tightly to the city’s fate. Her mind circled back to the vow that haunted her most: to protect the children of Brightwater from the shadows gathering at the city’s edge. The memory of the price she had set lingered—a forbidden spell, agreed to in secrecy, that would mark her forever if used. She knew the spell's power, old and unyielding, forged from fire and haunted by the voices of the dead. To invoke it would mean turning Brightwater’s familiar streets into a battleground, and herself into something she feared.
Daisy pressed her fingers to the bandage Delia had wrapped around her palm and counted her heartbeats. She wondered how long it would be before someone else—maybe Ironclaw, Willow, or even the council—asked her to give up even more.
She sensed a change in the air behind her and knew he was coming before she saw him. Xeris never wore shoes, so his steps on the stone were as quiet as frost. His human form still seemed strange, like a reflection in a warped mirror, and his presence always felt a little off.
He stood next to her, close enough that she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. The quiet between them was more than silence; it held the echo of old whispers. A memory flickered, faint but persistent, of when they fought side by side against the night creatures. A secret bound them, neither could speak of, but it tied them together as much as any vow.
“You sensed it too,” he said, no question in it.
Daisy's breath caught for a moment, her fingers brushing the cool stone as if seeking balance. She nodded, acknowledging the unspoken tension. "Willow’s spell tried to dig through. I didn’t think she’d be so obvious."
Xeris replied, "She’s fey. Being obvious is just a distraction. She’s already set runestones. I can smell them, and they seem to hum with potential threat. Those stones could ignite the ley lines around the city, turning them into a web of dangerous magic. If she triggers them at the right moment, it could unravel our defenses and disrupt the balance of power, leaving Brightwater vulnerable." Xeris made a low sound in his chest. "Not unless you want to burn half the city. But you can change them. She’s left you a way to use her own magic against her if you want."
Xeris made a low sound in his chest. "Not unless you want to burn half the city. But you can change them. She’s left you a way to use her own magic against her if you want."
Daisy let his words sink in. She glanced at his face; in the moonlight, the gold in his eyes faded to silver. "Do you think she expects me to betray her?"
"I think," he said after a pause, "she wants you to survive. She doesn’t care what happens to anything else."
They stayed quiet for a while, listening to the music below as it rose and fell like waves.
Xeris shifted, and Daisy felt his hand brush hers where they rested on the stone. He didn’t grip or squeeze, just let their fingers touch at the knuckle. The warmth was instant, a rush up her arm that chased away her exhaustion for a moment.
"We’ve faced worse odds," he said. When Daisy didn’t answer, he added, "You’re not alone."
His words should have comforted her, but instead they made her heart falter. She thought about the chain linking her magic, the city, and the old power in Xeris’s blood, and how closely their fates were tied.
She turned her hand over, holding his. "Don’t let go," she whispered, her words barely audible.
He made a sound, almost a laugh, but sharper, squeezed her hand once, then let go. They stood together, as if the world beyond the balcony could be held back for just one more minute.
A familiar voice broke the moment. "I’m not interrupting, am I?"
Oliver stepped onto the balcony, his hair damp and his shirt half-buttoned, his grin a little sharper than usual. He looked at their joined hands, then out at the city, his eyes lingering just long enough to take it all in.
"Ambassador Thorne’s back," Oliver said. "He brought a full group with him this time. And an army. They’re camped at the east gate."
Daisy’s jaw tightened. "He wants to talk?"
He wants to give us an ultimatum," Oliver said quietly. "Tomorrow at sunrise. He says he has the Emperor's personal authority and proof that Brightwater has been working with, and I quote, 'aberrant powers and heretical forest abominations.' If we refuse, he has threatened to unleash his forces on the city, claiming Brightwater would be crushed under a renewed siege. It could mean widespread destruction and loss of life, something we barely managed to survive the last time. The stakes are higher than ever; surrender might save lives in the short term, but could cost us our freedom."
Daisy looked at Xeris, who shrugged. "He’s not wrong."
Oliver smirked, but the expression faded quickly. "If we don’t meet, he’ll attack. He’s betting the city can’t survive another siege."
The three of them watched the plaza, where the party still went on. It seemed impossible that their world was closing in so fast. Daisy met Xeris’s gaze, her decision forming in the silence between them. “I’ll speak with Thorne at sunrise,” she said quietly. “Guess we get to see who cracks first.”
Xeris looked at her with the same hunger as always, but this time it was softer. "Don’t underestimate yourself, Smithson."
She felt Oliver watching her too, and realized that every connection she had was both a weakness and a weapon. "I won’t sleep tonight,” she said, letting the balcony’s cold stone remind her what it meant to be alive, even for one more hour.
Below them, the city glowed with light, both defiant and unsteady.
None of them noticed the small ceramic daisy on the balcony rail, pulsing with a faint, sickly light. Each flash traced the connections between Daisy and everyone she had ever cared about. Though its purpose was not immediately apparent, Daisy intuited that the daisy acted as both a conduit and a ward, shaped by the oldest magics that coursed through the city’s ley lines. It monitored and safeguarded the network of bonds she had formed, silently bearing witness to—and perhaps subtly influencing—the outcomes of her choices.
Tomorrow, those connections would be tested. Tonight, she held them close and hoped it would be enough.