The walk to the "Rusty Anchor" was silent, save for the rhythmic clinking of Evangeline's scabbard against her thigh. Andrew led her up the creaking stairs to the room at the end of the hall, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had brought the Sword to the Shield. Now, he just needed them not to kill each other.
Andrew pushed the door open. "We're back."
Inside, the room was warm and dimly lit. Bruce sat on a wooden stool near the window, whittling a small piece of wood. At his feet, Anna was drawing on a scrap of paper.
As Evangeline stepped into the threshold, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Her presence was sharp, a weapon brought into a nursery.
Bruce stopped whittling. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the crimson hilt at Evangeline's waist. He didn't reach for a weapon, but his posture shifted, his massive shoulders hunching slightly—a mountain preparing for an avalanche.
Anna looked up, her eyes widening. She dropped her charcoal stick and scrambled backward, darting behind the safety of Bruce's massive back. She gripped his shirt tightly, peeking out with only one terrified eye visible.
Andrew cleared his throat, sensing the tension. "Bruce, this is Evangeline. The one I told you about. The Sword."
Evangeline stood tall, her hand resting casually on her hip, her expression bored. But her ears were sharp.
From behind Bruce, a tiny, trembling whisper drifted into the silence.
"Papa... why is the scary sister here?"
Evangeline froze. The bored expression on her face didn't crack, but Andrew saw a microscopic twitch in her eye. A flush of embarrassment touched her neck, quickly suppressed. She looked away, pretending to inspect a crack in the wall, but her knuckles turned white on her sword hilt. She was used to men fearing her; she wasn't used to terrifying little girls.
Andrew stepped forward quickly, trying to bridge the gap. "She's... she's a friend, Anna. She's here to help us." He gestured to Bruce. "Evangeline, this is our Shield. And the little one hiding back there is his daughter, Anna."
Bruce placed a large, gentle hand over Anna's trembling fingers on his shoulder. His voice, usually a rumble of thunder, softened into a low hum.
"It's alright, little bird," Bruce murmured. "Say hello to the sister. You're a good girl, remember? We practiced."
There was a long pause. Slowly, hesitantly, a small head poked out from behind the wall of Bruce's arm. Anna looked at Evangeline, fear still swimming in her eyes, but she swallowed hard.
"H-hello..." she squeaked. "My... my name is Anna."
As soon as the words were out, she ducked back behind her father, burying her face in his shirt.
Evangeline let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. She looked at the hiding girl, and for a fleeting second, the cold assassin's mask slipped. She looked awkward, almost human.
"Hello," Evangeline said, her voice softer than Andrew had ever heard it. She cleared her throat and looked back at Andrew, the steel returning to her gaze. "Well? We're here. Talk."
Andrew pulled up a chair, and for the next hour, they spoke. He laid out the map on the small table. He spoke of the Emerald Throat, the currents, the potential dangers, and the legend of the cure. Bruce asked practical questions about supplies and defense. Evangeline listened intently, her sharp mind catching details Andrew had missed, pointing out flaws in their route, and suggesting better weapons for the jungle.
It was going perfectly. The team was forming. The dynamic was working.
"So," Andrew said, rolling up the map with a satisfied smile. "We leave at dawn. The tide turns at—"
"No," Evangeline interrupted.
The single word hung in the air like a severed rope.
Andrew blinked. "Excuse me?"
Evangeline stood up. She walked over to the window, looking out at the dark streets of Lidiana. "I understand your plan. It's solid. You might actually make it to the island." She turned back to face them. "But I'm not going with you."
"But..." Andrew stammered, standing up. "You came here. You met them. You helped plan the route! We had a deal!"
"I said I would meet them," Evangeline corrected calmly. "I didn't promise to go."
Bruce frowned, his protective arm tightening around Anna. "If it's about the money..."
"It's not about the money," Evangeline snapped, her patience fraying. She looked at Anna, who was peeking out again, and her expression softened with a profound sadness.
"You're doing this for your family," Evangeline said quietly. "I respect that. But I have family too."
She adjusted the strap of her scabbard. "My grandfather. The one who told me the stories about the Emerald Throat... he's sick. He's old, and his time is running out. He raised me when no one else would."
She looked Andrew in the eye. "He can't walk. He can't feed himself. I am the only one he has. If I leave for this expedition, I'll be gone for months. When I come back... if I come back... he will be --
The room fell silent. The desperate need in Andrew's chest clashed with the undeniable honor of her reason.
"I can't save your family by abandoning mine," Evangeline said, her voice final. She headed for the door. "Good luck, Captain. Try not to die."
She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving Andrew standing stunned in the center of the room, the perfect plan crumbling to dust in his hands.