Just as the moment tipped toward something more, Nia jerked back like she'd touched a flame. Her breath hitched, and then the tears came fast, slipping down her cheeks in silence.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice cracking like a snapped branch. "I'm so sorry, Wart."
Jace froze. The shift hit him like a sudden drop in temperature. "What's wrong?" He reached toward her, but she flinched before his fingers could make contact. "Nia, talk to me. What happened?"
She swiped at her cheeks with shaking hands, but the words tumbled out before the tears could stop. "The Rusty Goblet… it's gone. The town head took it. Said my father owed some old debt, and he claimed it three days ago."
Her voice kept catching, like it hurt just to say it out loud. "I don't know what to do now. I've got no job, no coin. I thought maybe… if I could get close to one of you—seduce you or something—you'd help me get it back. But I can't. I can't use you like that."
She buried her face in her hands, fingers curling against her temples.
The words hit like a punch—not because of what she'd tried, but because of how much it cost her to admit it.
For a second, Jace didn't know what to feel. His chest tightened—part insult, part guilt, part something else entirely. He wanted to be angry, but looking at her—shaking, tear-streaked, exhausted—there was no room for it.
"Why me?" he asked, voice low.
Her head lifted slightly, eyes red. "I don't know. You were just… different. You didn't look at me like the others did. Like I was a conquest. You actually listened. You felt safe."
He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. The sting of being used still lingered, but it wasn't sharp. More like a dull ache behind the ribs. People did desperate things when their world fell apart.
"I'm not mad," he said finally. "But you should've just asked."
She nodded, ashamed.
"You helped me. I've owed you since then. I would've helped."
"You would?"
"Come with us tomorrow. To the capital. I'll figure something out."
She looked like she wanted to believe him but didn't trust herself to. "What about the others? The king? I'm nobody."
"Doesn't matter. I'll handle them. Trust me."
She hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. "Okay."
"We'll meet at the rusty goblet tomorrow morning then," Jace said as he took his leave.
******
The next morning, the group gathered at the Rusty Goblet's entrance, its doors shut, the windows boarded like a carcass picked clean. Nia stood there with a travel pack slung over her shoulder, eyes down, posture stiff. She'd tied her hair back, but the circles under her eyes gave her away.
Dren spotted her first. His lip curled before he even opened his mouth.
"What's she doing here?"
Jace didn't flinch. "She's with me."
Dren snorted. "We're not running a charity for tavern wenches."
Jace said nothing more. He didn't need to. The others kept their opinions to themselves as they climbed into the carriage gifted by the village elder—a rickety thing, but it beat walking.
Nia sat near the window, arms crossed tight over her pack, gaze fixed on the road. She didn't say much, and Jace didn't press. Dren kept throwing the occasional jab, but Jace let it bounce off. He'd already decided—this was his mess to handle now.
******
They arrived at the capital by afternoon. King Aldren received them in the throne room—less grand than expected, but still regal. His robes were modest, but his voice carried the weight of command.
"Well done, heroes," he said, stepping down from his dais. "Lusteria owes you."
Then his eyes landed on Nia, and his brow lifted just slightly. "And this young lady?"
Dren opened his mouth again, but Jace cut in first, voice steady.
"She's like family to me, Your Majesty. I wanted her close."
The king's expression softened. "Family to a hero is family to the crown. You're welcome here."
He gave a nod to a waiting steward. "There's a banquet tonight. All of you—join us."
They all nodded, bowed and asked for permission to retreat to their chambers.
*******
Later, Jace guided Nia through his quarters in the palace. Her steps slowed as they reached her room—a room with soft light, clean linen, and a window overlooking the inner gardens.
She stepped inside like she wasn't sure she was allowed to.
"Freshen up. Someone will bring food soon," Jace said, turning to go.
She caught his sleeve before he reached the door. "Thank you. For everything."
He glanced back. "It's fine. But next time something's wrong, just say it. No schemes. No pretending."
She let go of him slowly.
Jace gave her one last nod, then stepped out into the corridor.