Having Solomon do her hair for her could arguably be one of the best things for both of them hence far. For her, it was a reminder that not all touch had malicious or lustful intent, the man careful and gentle as he cut, but still in her space. It wasn’t as though this would fix her fear in one moment, but it was a step to her learning to understand once more, that not everyone who came near wanted something from her. It did help that it was the prince too since she did have the past of knowing he would not take advantage of her vulnerability.

As he moved forward, hazel eyes fell closed as the woman finally let herself come to a fully relaxed state. There was something soothing about having one's hair cut, carefully worked over with nothing but kind intent. Not to mention the memories that came with it. Warm memories of home, her mother carefully working to shape her hair, them talking and laughing softly. It was one of the few times the two of them really connected considering she was her father’s daughter. But she loved those times, and she felt safe now in her current setting, something she hadn’t gotten to feel in a while. Not that there wasn’t the lurking anxiety, but for once, it was on the back burner.

“Attikos was the one who came through the wing on occasion, was he not?” she inquired, though was almost certain of it. She had heard Ryia say his name a few times and had certainly seen him a time or two. “And at least you are closer to the average skin color,” she added, though there was a slightly lighter note in her voice, close to a teasing though not quite there, “You will be able to blend into the night.” For once, there was a lack of too much tension between them.

She fell silent to listen to him tell where he had learned his experience. Zephyra couldn’t help but the smallest of weak smiles, hearing that the man did, in fact, have a heart long before he was willing to even consider it. It brought back some of her old questions about him, wondering what would have happened if he had been raised differently or in a different setting. Not that her mind stayed there for too long, shifting to thoughts of Ryia. She loved the little girl, the only one who could share her affections in the simplest way and bring her joy when things were hard.

The two of them both had fond memories to think about during the haircut, ones that were comforting and relaxing. “I am certain Ryia was more than grateful every time you did her hair. She is easy to please and simply loves even the smallest of things.” Her voice was warm as she talked about the little girl. “She is truly a delight. I wouldn’t know about Ave since I never met her, only have seen her a few times.” Ryia was the only sister she had actually met.

The moment he was done, her eyes opened up, head turning towards the mirror. She took a couple steps towards the mirror, fingers reaching up to touch the short strands. The front part was longer, framing her face rather nicely. Zephyra was silent, moving to run her fingers through the back, feeling just how short it was. It was an adjustment, but she liked it, rather well. She was simply was not used to seeing herself without her long hair, and recently, she had been avoiding looking.

Slowly she turned, offering a gentle smile. “Thank you. It looks beautiful.” For a moment she stood awkwardly before starting to speak again, “I appreciate this a lot. My mother used to cut my hair for me, since it was one of the few hands-on things she liked to do. I’m... I’m not sure I would have been able to let anyone else do it,” she admitted with a sigh. Her gaze lifted to meet his, “If there is anything I can do for you in return, please ask. I know you don’t want help but the offer is there.”

Zephyra glanced back to look at herself in the mirror once more, her hands running through her hair again. She felt new in a way, and hoped that with the change in clothes, she could take her steps into her new world, and feel somewhat safe? Hopefully. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Solomon. I owe you my life. And this chance to continue my father’s legacy.” She looked at him once more, the honesty and gratitude in here eyes.

While she looked at herself, the man stood aside, silently waiting to hear whether she approved or disapproved. Solomon thought it was fine, but he wasn’t the one that had to live with it, now was he? The man tilted his head at her, watching for a moment as she played with the strands, and strangely, he felt rather satisfied, like he had done something. The man had spent days in his room wondering what he would even do from now on, far away from his homeland and with no home to return to, and here he had done something. It was small and minuscule in the grand scheme of things, but it was something.

Solomon nodded at her thanks, content that she was happy with what he had done. “You’ve mentioned that,” He responded when she claimed she probably wouldn’t have found it in herself to let others into her space, “and it is understandable. Though I am not someone you necessarily want in your space either. I would keep that in mind.” Would he ever hurt her? No, that had been established long ago and even more so at his decision to free her. The problem was that now, he was a liability. He was a stain that would tarnish anyone. Nobody wanted that.

Especially not someone who had just been given their freedom back. The sooner she realized that for herself, the better. Solomon met his own gaze in the mirror and glanced away rather quickly. He didn’t care for mirrors. They were always rather off-putting to him, seeing every scar so clearly as well as every other imperfection. He wasn’t sure how to feel about them. And now, faced with a disheveled appearance dressed in bandages, it wasn’t the nicest feeling. So instead he busied himself with grabbing a small cleaning brush and a dustpan to sweep up the hair.

“I owe you my life.”

Solomon stiffened. No, you don’t. He was quiet for a few seconds, the sounds of the brush fluttering against the floorboards the only noise in the room. “You do not owe me anything, Zephyra.” He replied, back to her as he was bent over, “Or anyone for that matter, but certainly not me.” He had stolen her home from her, placed it under Concorban control without any remorse. But worst of all, his actions stole away her father, a man the former prince knew she had loved with everything she had. He had taken more from her than he could ever repay.

“You do not owe me for freeing you. It was something you deserved as a person, a right you were entitled to have.” He explained, letting out a heavy sigh, “Do not thank me for realizing you were someone who lived, breathed, and felt, just like I did. It is not something to be grateful for…” Solomon knew he had done a good thing, that much he understood, but he did not want recognition for that. He had done so many horrible things and taken so many lives, innocent and not, and the capture and subsequent freedom of Zephyra was most certainly not something incredible. It had just needed to be done.

“My only regret was that I did not realize sooner, but it’s too late for that now.” It was a sad conclusion to come to, but there was no denying the truth. Not anymore. “I realized eventually and now you are free, so I suppose that is one positive thing.” He swept up the rest and walked over to dump it in a waste bin before cleaning up his supplies, putting them back in their respective areas. “But I’m glad you are happy to have found something to do in continuing your father’s legacy, I am sure he would be proud of that.” He ended on a lighter, more encouraging manner, but there was still a great heaviness on his shoulders.

Solomon scratched at the bandages on his arms, “Cutting Ryia’s hair was never exactly fun,” He jumped back to when she had mentioned the little girl, “Ryia likes the finished product, not the process. She fidgets and is impatient. Aveline was always a much more pleasant experience.” But his youngest sister would still always be the one that had his entire heart. Calloused fingers reached up to graze the necklace, running over the cool bone, “When she was a baby it was especially bad. Vivianna had to hold her and she would scream and wail. I wasn’t ever very fond of that.”

“You do not owe me anything, Zephyra. Or anyone for that matter.”

The words sank in slowly as she watched him from where she stood, gaze falling back to the ground out of habit. Deep down, she knew he had only done what was right, and that it was his kingdom and his army that had destroyed her life, her family, and the very fabric of who she was. But it wasn’t Solomon himself. He had protected her, freed her, and even now offered something as simple as a haircut. She could accept that she owed him nothing, having freed him and left the score even. But what sank in was the concept that she owed no one.

What it was about the concept that truly reached out to her, she wasn’t sure. Zeph couldn’t place in her mind that she did feel as though she owed the world, and yet, there was truth in the fact that she did. The woman feared the world and lived as though she had to hide from it for the life she had been dragged into against will. She avoided men out of fear, and woman out of her own disgust for herself and what she had become. She kept her room spotless and clean, only using the chair and bed, and she felt as though she had tainted both.

As for Solomon, the kindness she had shown him since releasing him was more from the fact that she was a kind person than she actually owed him. At the end of the day, if he was to be killed by the military here for whatever the reason, she would be both furious and broken-hearted, but not because she held Solomon close to her heart in any form beyond that of an acquaintance she felt some stability near. Right now, he was just someone who could help keep the Isles safe and hopefully, afterward, save the other nations that his had destroyed. If he died, that all shattered and she lost all her goals and current hope in life.

“You did what you thought right as you realized it,” she answered softly, lifting her eyes once more to look around the room. As for her father’s legacy... that included Solomon but she didn’t see that this time was now to talk about it. Not yet, while he seemed to be struggling to just thrive almost as much as she was. Another time... but it would need to be soon, hopefully. That and she would need to figure out something because what little she did have left and the kindness of Kele for her father’s name would only keep her safe at the inn for so long. A month or two, if she was lucky.

It was an overwhelming amount of stuff to figure out for a person who struggled to just get through the day like a normal human. She was grateful as the subject switched back to Ryia, a small little spark in the dark world she had lived. “She was an impatient one, especially with her hair. I think it frustrates her. That and she has other things she would rather be doing.” The woman’s lips twitched in the formation of another weak smile.

It was then that she noticed the necklace Solomon ware, gazing at it with some curiosity, though she didn’t come closer or do more than comment on it. “That is a lovely necklace. Ryia would have loved something like that. Though I think she would have loved anything from here.” Her hand reached out to smooth over the back of a chair, starting for the door that was close by. She was already losing her energy and composure for her day once more and decided it was time to go and give the man some space as well.

“Again, thank you so much for this.” Her hand reached the knob as she turned it, looking back at him one more time. “I hope you get the rest you need and end up feeling better soon.” She said no more than that, not sure what else to say to him at this point in time. Instead, she opened the door and slipped out, returning to the safety of her own room, which was already warm with the heat of the Isles, but the cool tile floor offered some relief. She moved to hang up her new clothes before sinking into her chair and curling up to just sit there for a while, eyes closed.

Two Weeks Later…

His interaction with Zephyra was the last true talk with another person for the next fourteen days. Solomon did find it in himself to visit Ambrose again and actually buy himself some food, which consisted of mostly stale bread and dried meat. He wanted to be active, but he didn’t want to tear open his back. Not when it was barely healing. Just a little bit longer… all he had to do was wait a little bit longer. Then he could be back on his feet and hit the ground running. It was hard, not being able to do things, but it was the hand he had been dealt and therefore had to deal with.

So he stuck around for a week, going to stir crazy within the room. There was a lot of meditating. He hated it. He would sit there for hours, alone with his thoughts, sitting on the little area rug criss-cross with his palms on his knees, searching for some sort of guidance. Guidance from what, not even he knew. But he kept trying and he tried hard. Solomon had never been more desperate for answers in his life and he knew he would have to find them on his own, that no messages from the stars or the voices of deities could give him everything he ever needed. It never worked that way.

But once the week was over and he was feeling better, Solomon wasted no more time in that room. He couldn’t. Solomon needed air. So he tore his grimey bandages off and put on some real clothes, even tied his old sash of gold around his torso. Though he did have a enough mind to wear a cloak as he wanted to spend the day exploring the island. The man took his swords with him, the heavy blades comforting from where they hung at his hips. He even took the time to shave his face and clean up his hair, the man looking cleaner than he had in weeks.

What he had intended to be just a day out turned into one that lasted several days, the man lucky that he had prepaid his room for a while even if he currently wouldn’t be living in it. Solomon took off and explored the beaches and followed trails deep into the mountains and forests. One night there had been a soft rainfall and he’d watched the waves roll in the wind while being soaked in the sand. He spent almost every night under the stars, looking up at constellations and wondering about anything but what his life had become within mere days.

The most exhilarating part of the adventure was when he dove off a cliff into the ocean, the salty air whipping at his body before he collided with the sea. It had been a stupid move, no doubt, but Solomon had no regrets. He wished he had done so sooner. The man took some time to train, working with his swords and fists, wanting to be back into fighting condition as soon as possible. He had lost a lot of his mass since he’d arrived at the Isles and he wanted that back. There was so much to do and so little time. But he had needed this. He had needed a true taste of freedom.

Although all good things come to an end. Solomon knew he needed to return to the inn, where Zephyra and the army awaited him. He didn’t want to, but it had to be done. The man couldn’t hide from his new reality forever. So, as the week started to reach its final days, the former prince trekked back home. Not that it was even home. Briefly, he wondered what it was like to have somewhere that could truly be called one's home, as he knew the palace had never even been that to him. But the thoughts didn’t last long, since there was no point imagining something you could never have.

Solomon arrived midday when he returned, shrouded in a cloak with not so much as a bag on his back. All of his things were still in his room, abandoned in a bag on the floor. He shouldered his way into the inn, pushing past some of the people that had gathered on the lower level that doubled as a restaurant. He approached the innkeeper, who worked the bar during the day. Immediately, he was recognized.

“H-hello,” The older man stuttered out, swiping a rag across the bartop while he avoided a golden gaze, “Is there anything I can get you?”

Solomon shook his head. “I trust my room is how I left it?” He questioned, pulling out money to pay for the next few days out and sliding it across the wood, “I wouldn’t want to find anything missing.” He doubted that the maids would have stolen anything anyways. There wasn’t anything to steal.

The man took the money with a limp nod of thanks, “Everything should be right as rain.”

“Good.”

Zephyra continued to give Solomon his space, for the first week catching glimpses of him now and again and occasionally offering a smile or small greeting in his direction. But it never went beyond that, and she did not pester him in the way she had the first day. He was healing and the woman was well aware of how he felt about his freedom without her intervention.

She continued her daily trips to the market, though she kept to earlier times when the crowds were smaller and she didn’t feel as caught. There was the smallest spark of confidence that accompanied her with her hair cut nicely and her clothes more fitting to the culture of the isles. The woman looked a different person than she had a few months before, but she was nowhere near the young lady who used to laugh and smile contagiously back in her homeland. She kept her gaze down, only bringing it up to keep track of where everyone was, shying away from men and not meeting the eyes of any women. There were no wide smiles or laughter, just Zephyra struggling with each visit to the market that she forced herself to take.

A few days in and she ended up taking a day off from her endeavors, spending it in her room simply because the very thought of braving the outside world again was a struggle. But the day after, she was right back out. The woman did do remarkable well considering, being gracious when she was spoken too, and coming across as simply shy to those who didn’t pay too much attention. And no one really did care about another random buyer in the market, leaving her practically invisible in all reality.

It was the second week in that things took a pleasant turn for her. At least, a necessary turn that would be the start of her learning to live. Zephyra had become slightly shyer that week, especially considering Solomon hadn’t been around in days. She could usually hear him in the room beside hers or catch glimpses of him now and again, and she hadn’t. The woman thought perhaps he had left, leaving Ambrose behind, but she doubted it. It left her wondering what she could do to help save the Isles if the man really was gone, and the truth was, nothing could be done at all.

While she was out on a day she was particularly anxious, fate had it that she bumped into a woman, probably in her thirties. The woman was an inch or so shorter than Zephyra, with a richly tanned scan and bright green eyes that glowed warmly. Zephyra had been shying away from a man who happened to be hurrying by, close enough to brush against the young woman. Her instant instinct was to recoil, which brought her to apologizing profusely to the woman. She was somewhat panicked, wanting to help but now feeling terribly overwhelmed by everything happening around her.

“No harm done, darling! You look awfully flushed. Why don’t you come with me out of this heat and we can go somewhere quiet and grab something to eat. My name is Tamah.” The offer came so willingly, Tamah immediately guiding Zeph out of the crowd before she even had a chance to protest. The dark-haired woman was almost instantly motherly towards the younger female as if she sensed something that went beyond shyness. They did share a light meal, Tamah doing most of the talking while Zeph listened unless asked a question. But Zeph did say that she currently lived at the inn and came in as a refugee.

It started a friendship, or more of Zephyra being taken under the wing of a kind soul who asked to come meet her at the inn the next day and go with her to the market. Zeph agreed and the next day she was not only met by Tamah but her son Keon as well. The boy was bright-eyed like his mother and Zeph fell in love instantly, finding the two of them as a wonderful distraction and something to focus on. She was still nervous and skittish, but she was more controlled and handled it better than she had before.

They planned another outing on the next day after, leaving Zephyra another day to herself. She didn’t leave the inn, tired and exhausted from the energy the day before had taken. It was somewhere around midday that she dragged herself from her bed, having slept in late, and then laid there for a while simply because she could. But she did not want to make the day a total waste, bringing her down to the restaurant portion of the inn where she decided to stay for a full lunch.

It was as she was about to settle in at a table that she laid eyes on a familiar figure. The relief flooding her hazel orbs was undeniable at seeing Solomon had not left or something had happened to him. “Solomon.” She greeted him kindly, stepping a little closer, “I’m glad you’re alright. I was about to order lunch if you would care to join.” In this case, she just liked the idea of having someone she trusted near her while she braved her first lunch in the busy inn.

She gestured towards an open table before her gaze fell to the ground out of habit, though lifted to flicker over the dress she wore. “It’s not an offer to help,” she quickly added, suddenly worried he would take it as her trying to give him something, “we pay for our own meals?” There was such uncertainty, which within itself was a stark contrast to the more certain version of her in the palace, the one was forced to pretend to survive.

A few more words were exchanged between him and the innkeeper before Solomon requested a menu, deciding to eat an actual meal for once rather than stale bread and dried meat. Some real food and a cup of ale would do him well and it sounded nice, especially after a week of traveling. Eyes traveled over the words, the man appearing to be more docile than usual, which he was. For now, was feeling much better, physically and mentally, as the farther away he was from that cell, the better. He wasn’t sure what he would do next or what would come, but he was healing and that was a start.

Solomon opened his mouth to order when a familiar voice caught his ears, the man’s gaze flickering over in her direction. It was Zephyra. He certainly hadn’t forgotten about her when he was away, in fact, it was quite the opposite. He had thought about her often, but he wasn’t expecting to run into her so soon. He pushed the hood of the cloak off his head, making him appear less of a dreary figure, “Zephyra,” He acknowledged, gaze returning to the menu to look over it. It was surprising to see her out and about, though he figured she wouldn’t be for long.

Her apprehension towards people was very noticeable, to him at least, even if she seemed fine with him. Solomon was surprised when she asked if he wanted to join her, head swiveling in what was almost disbelief, though he hid it well. “I suppose I can, I need to eat anyway,” He shrugged, though it was followed with a soft sigh, “There’s no need to be anxious. You’ve respected my space and that’s all I asked for.” He explained, leading them to a table. He removed the cloak and hung it over his chair, revealing his scabbed arms. He had ditched the bandages days ago.

Again he picked up the menu, though he had already decided what he had wanted at the bar. The scanning over the words was more so just something to do. “I’m surprised you decided to come out here, this place is always somewhat crowded. I peg it as a local spot.” It was a harmless comment and probably his own attempt at small talk, which he had never been good at. It was evident Solomon wasn’t a people person. “You must be doing better then, or at least somewhat.” He left it at that, not looking to be involved with or pry in her personal business.

“But yes, I will be paying for my own meal. That is only fair.” Solomon sat down, the chair creaking under his weight despite the fact he was much thinner than he had been since his arrival. He was better than he was, but he still had a long way to go before he would be considered healthy once again. “As for me being alright, I wouldn’t worry yourself with me. Anxiety about the well-being of a fugitive will only make you ill.” He explained, not meeting her gaze, eyes glued to the parchment he held in his hands, “You have much more on your plate without trying to fit me on it.”

There was another sigh and his eyes finally dragged up to hers, yet he wasn’t annoyed or angry. Solomon was calm but hollow. Then again, no one could ever describe him as being full of life. He had always been empty-looking. “That being said, it would be wise if you kept yourself separate from me. We don’t need to associate. I’m not complaining, but this,” He gestured to the table they shared, “isn’t doing you any favors. Our lives do not need to intertwine and I do not need to be treated as more than a stranger. We are only neighbors at an inn and it shouldn’t go beyond that.”

Zephyra was one of the people Solomon tolerated and didn’t hate, but he knew that them having any sort of relationship that was anything but that of strangers wasn’t smart. They might collaborate when it came to Kele, but the man knew that needed to be it. “I am not so bold as to assume that you need or want my presence, I am only stating what would be the wisest course of action… And that is to be strangers.” They had no reason to talk or interact. The little offerings she left outside his door and acts of kindness were meaningless when she had other weight on her shoulders. “Though I have no place telling you how to live your life, so do what you will. It is merely advice.” Solomon concluded, gaze falling away again to rest on anything but the woman in front of him.

It was a complicated feeling of being relieved and disappointed at the same time when Solomon agreed to eat with her, leading her to a table. Relief, because she had not wanted to eat alone. Disappointment because she was dangerously close, if he had said no, to skipping on the whole thing and fleeing to her room, which seemed the much safer bet. But, it was good for her to be there and she knew that, sitting and taking a menu to look over again, not really sure what she wanted. To save time, the woman randomly chose something that seemed the cheapest, though hid behind her menu as much as he did.

“I surprise myself sometimes,” she added to his comment, running a finger over the description of her chosen meal, for the moment, avoiding looking at him. Zephyra supposed she should feel flattered that he thought she was doing better, but she didn’t feel it. Some days she felt worse than when she arrived, she simply faked it hoping one day she would make it back into the real world as a real and confident member. Hoped, though she never said that, only nodding at the man’s words as if they were true. Then again, she did have the help of Tamah for now at least so perhaps she did have a chance? It was a fine line of hoping and not wanting to give one's hopes up, Zephyra balanced on it rather precariously.

Slowly, she laid her menu down and dared to look up, hazel eyes landing on Solomon. His words made sense in a different scenario to her, but that was not the one they were in. He was wrong to say she had others things to worry about, unless he meant her simple inability to thrive, and adding the exiled prince into the mix wasn’t going to make that worse. In fact, she rather needed him for what the woman needed to do, though she had no idea how to even get the ball rolling for that or if she should try. They had every reason to talk and interact, even if they both wanted to move on with their lives.

“If things were different, I would agree with you,” she started softly, fingers smoothing over her menu that now sat on the table. “But I can’t do anything here other than be a namesake, and a namesake is worthless alone. And right now, knowing you and doing this isn’t harming me either. At the end of the day Solomon, I don’t care what people think about my associations... I care what people think about me... in other ways.” She grew visibly uncomfortable, pushing her hair from her face as she did everything not to look at Solomon. Zephyra really didn’t care if people associated her with someone they didn’t like... it was about what they could do to her for being herself that scared her. And she knew Solomon would know that because he had been there.

A waiter was a welcome distraction, though she didn’t meet the man’s gaze, only sliding the menu towards him and pointing at what she wanted. Hands clasped together on the table as she waited for Solomon to order, tracing the grains of the wooden table with her eyes, following them, making mental patterns and shapes until Solomon had finished and the waiter had left. It was truly an unconscious move on her part, not speaking since it was unnecessary and simply making herself as invisible as possible as seeming totally disconnected from the interaction. It was a defense mechanism she hadn’t registered she was using.

Her eyes lifted back to Solomon, returning to the conversation they were having. “I can’t help Kele because I don’t have any information except old strategies you used on your last campaign for new territory that I got from your files. But I know the Isles aren’t the same and you wouldn’t have planned the same strategy. Right now, the only good I am is my name towards your credibility. You have to be the one to help, I can’t.” Truth was, Zephyra could be a brilliant addition to strategy planning, but she never even thought of what she had learned from her father, only that she had no helpful information towards the current predicament.

But talking ‘business’ did seem to calm her and make her less visibly uncomfortable, her mind latching onto the form of distraction in something that felt necessary. It felt like a necessary conversation with a goal in the end that she could focus on. It gave her some form of purpose to be out of her room and talking with another human being beyond trying to figure out how to be a person again. “Until we figure out something with Kele, I honestly have nothing to do and no weight to worry about.”

Solomon looked up at the waiter as he arrived, opting to speak rather than gesture as his companion had. Frankly, the way she ordered in silence and seemed to shrink in her chair surprised him, but he did not comment. That would have been cruel, considering he knew it took effort for her to just be out in the little eatery, He ordered what he wanted, though the man wished he had access to a kitchen to cook himself. He set the menu back on the table and pushed it aside, once more faced with the woman he could never seem to escape.

He had expected her to disagree, as they seemed to stand on opposite sides with opposite views, as they always had. Even in the palace they were never in agreement, though their discussions had been without hostility, as this one was now. She was evidently uncomfortable, that much he noted, but he never expected to understand why. They were far too different of people for him to be able to understand and see her on the same page as himself. She confused him, as he no doubt confused her. It was a dance at a ball that Solomon didn’t want to be a part of.

“I was smart enough to keep you away from my plans that time ago. I was the enemy and you were still ferociously loyal to your home.” He shrugged, doing nothing more than merely telling a story. It was small talk, something he was bad at, but the man still had his moments where he wasn’t completely inept when it came to socializing, “To let a prisoner of war near my most crucial set of plans, the ones that would define me as a general, would have been far too foolish. But I suppose I later defined myself as a traitor who committed high treason against the emperor. Instead of glory I have a bounty on my head for however long I live. It is almost amusing.”

He drummed his fingers on the table, contemplating. She claimed she needed him, but Solomon still wasn’t seeing where he needed her and why she needed to be there with her nose in a war she couldn’t even fight in. The man could give a damn about credibility and what little safety her name could offer him. When it came down to it, Kele could order the death of Solomon whenever he wanted and a girl from Bercasitt wasn’t going to change that. He knew Zephyra was a smart woman, but this business was not hers and he would stand by that for however long he had to.

He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers, propping them below his nose, “If you cannot help Kele or move any of these plans forward yourself then why, pray tell, are you here?” Solomon questioned bluntly, always straight to the point, “Unless you are suddenly looking to join the ranks of soldiers, what is your point in joining the cause if you have nothing to offer to it? All I see is time being wasted for a cause you can currently take no part in. After all, I have to be the one to help, you can’t.” He repeated the words she had spoken to him, not arguing, but he was certainly being stubborn on the subject.

“So you are here, being friendly with the one person on these dozens of islands who was directly involved in the capture of Bercasitt, instead of going home to where your nation remains mostly intact. You could even flee across the seas if you so chose.” She was free and he doubted anyone from the empire would truly be hunting her. Not when Solomon was in the Isles for the taking. “Yet you are here to help where you cannot. Kele respects you and will no doubt help you as a refugee and out of respect for your father, but you are of no use to the general. You are the daughter of the general, but you are not one.”

Solomon let out a sigh, turning his head to look out the window, where the market bustled outside. She hated the market. He knew it brought her discomfort. She was afraid of men and others in general and he had no doubt she held some constant underlying anxiety. She had no reason to be there. “It is a noble thing to wish to carry on your father’s legacy, but if you claim you cannot be of service to Kele or his cause, there is nothing for you here and this inn will bleed your money dry. Staying here is dangerous and I doubt you wish to die so far from home.”

He had been right, in the terms of making a choice to protect his country as a general, to not let her near any paperwork that related to current conquests. Zephyra never thought she could use it, considering she expected to be killed there, but it hadn’t stopped her from memorizing some of the information anyway when she worked on it. But in the long run, it was still useless besides having been able to find some grace in Solomon’s eyes at the time. “You were wise for the position that you were holding,” she agreed softly, nodding as her fingers continued to smooth over the tabletop.

The question that came to her was not unexpected, hazel eyes lifting to search his face. It was a valid question, or rather, questions that he laid out before them. There was no offense taken either, considering it was basically what she had just told him, though she did have a reasoning. It was simply hard to explain, or at least put into words at a moment's notice. So she didn’t outright explain it immediately, calmly working through her response in her mind, wanting to put it right.

Zephyra listened quietly, gaze returning to the table to look over the patterns of the wood. On the outside, his words seemed so logical, and yet she could not reconcile with the idea of going home. Because it wasn’t home anymore, it was a stolen land where she was just at risk as she was in any other territory taken by his empire. And she had a use, that she did know. But it was all about her getting there, being able to reconcile with herself that she could be part more than a namesake. No, she was not a general, but she had experience and was good at strategizing. Not that she would outright say it, too quiet and humble to admit such things.

But it was the last thing he said that brought her head back up, something deeply sorrowful and almost disturbing passing through her eyes. “Solomon, I already died. Months ago. Where or when my body is laid to rest means little to me. I accepted that a while ago and my returning home will do me no favors. Bercasitt has fallen and perhaps the residents still live there but so do Concorban soldiers. I would not be safe there, surely you can see that as well as I can?” Even with short hair, she was a beautiful woman and she held a deeper fear of Concorban men than of anyone else. And she knew, if a soldier that lived there got any ideas in his mind, she wouldn’t be safe even in her own home. Even if she was though, she feared going home now that she was here. She feared tainting it and she feared her family ever finding out what had happened to her.

“As for your suggestion to go across the sea... I have no place to go in a strange land. No place to protect me and if I cannot find something to offer me some kind of support, I am as good as a beggar or worse.” These were things she couldn’t do... and it felt like there was nowhere she could go to feel safe, now that she had time to think about it. Her hands fidgeted slightly as she kept her gaze purposefully away from the window and anywhere in general that she may find herself staring at someone by accident. “As foolish as it seems to you, here is the best place for me.”

It was time to explain as best she could how she felt in the matter and what she thought best, her take on the situation and reasoning for why she sat here and thought it was a good idea to stay. “As of now, I can do nothing. I came to free you so you could help, and for now, my father’s name is enough. But to Kele, I am no more than a namesake to vouch for you. Until you go and start helping their effort to defend their home, I am no more than that. But I can help...” There was a pause, wanting to word it right and not wanting to say that she could strategize and help in that way. She was a woman and Zephyra was well aware it seemed like an absurd idea to most people, and perhaps it would more so to Solomon who knew what she was.

“My father had me as an active part of his work at home. I am... familiar with many of the inner workings and decisions that need to be made. If nothing else, I wish to at least see through what he started. He was a good man who died a gruesome death that he did not deserve. If I can at least be part of this, of defending one place from the men who killed him, at least I will have some kind of purpose that’s worth something. Even if I am killed here... I will at least know that I did something with worth. Otherwise... there is no point in my existence.” It was said as bluntly and to the point as he had been speaking before, though her eyes were once more staring at the table, only moving her hands out of the way when the food was brought.

Solomon listened and let her say her piece, eyes as cool and calculative as ever. There was no way that the man was fixed in either body or mind, but he had his moments where there was some semblance of the man he had once been, and this was one of them. She could be stubborn, that was for sure, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t equally so. It was clear where he stood, that he believed her arrival was a mistake that was more than foolish, while she saw it as a reasonable move. He doubted they would ever see eye to eye, but it didn’t mean the man couldn’t try.

He leaned back as the food was brought, sipping at the ale that was set down in a tankard before him. There was judgment in his gaze, but whether it was positive or negative one could never be sure, but the irises of gold were piercing, to say the least. He swirled the liquid around in the cup, the honey-colored drink almost bearing a resemblance to his eyes. Solomon picked at his lunch for a moment before eating, surprisingly delicate for a man so rough, though not so shocking given his background as royalty. It was clear he was thinking, considering everything those days seemed to foster some mental conflict with him.

Solomon chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I have seen dead men. I’ve seen dead men who are cold and without a heartbeat and I have seen those that breathe and blink. I know more dead than I know living.” If one had asked him to recall all the deceased he had seen, he could only remember a few out of the hundreds. It was not an achievement, but merely another grim and twisted fact in the life of a man who had spent most of his life stealing lives, whether by the blade he wielded in battle or by the lands he left to be plundered by the regime that he was once sworn to.

“And you, Zephyra, are not one of them. You’re alive and you haven’t a clue what to do with that, but you’re alive nonetheless.” Solomon’s gaze swept over one of his scarred hands. A hand that killed. “Dead men have lost any semblance of themselves. It’s that simple.” He had seen it all too often, people who had nothing behind their eyes but empty space. Those were the ones that were too far gone and would probably never fill the void inside them again. Solomon had always told himself that he would never lose himself, but he had spent most of the past few days wondering if he had.

It was a question that would never be answered, considering he did not plan on seeing his twenty-fifth birthday. “Deep down you’re still you. Dead people don’t care about the wellbeing of others enough to bandage the enemy and insist upon helping, even if it’s unwanted.” There was the pile of offerings that she had left him outside his door that were a testament to that. It was easy enough to remember her smothering him when he was sick and when she’d immediately shoved water at him as soon as he was freed. The woman wasn’t completely gone. She’d been abused and mistreated, but she’d made it.

“You’re free to disagree, but if we’re going to work together, you need to believe it. The piss poor efforts of the dead won’t save this nation. Before you can even consider helping the Isles, you need to consider helping yourself. Make your existence not pointless.” He spoke bluntly with a shrug, taking another swig of his drink, “You’re free and anyone who knew you probably assumes you’re dead. There’s a blank slate there, do something about it. If you are going to insist upon staying here, doing nothing and twiddling your thumbs in that room is going to leave you as a beggar or worse.”

Solomon leaned forward, folding his arms atop the table. “You have fought. No...” He paused, “You have fought hard. I know veterans who have not fought half as hard and as long as you.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, “But now you’re drowning and you need to gather up enough pieces of your conscience to swim back into the land of the living. A corpse can’t fight and I’m sure as hell not working with one. You want to stay here? Fine, I think that’s foolish, but I can’t force you home nor would I. But the fact is you’re not a soldier and just a noble caught on the wrong side of the border. If you want to survive, you need to figure out how to do things without me.”

Solomon knew he was being less than empathetic, he never prided himself on being someone who was gentle, so he said what he meant and the man wouldn’t have any regrets. “Kele has the bulk of the Concorban war plans at the fort. I have kept a copy of them in a journal for myself. You don’t need me, go visit the general and see them for yourself. Prove to him that you know what you’re doing.” That moment he had tried to give her a starting point, but it was up to her to take it into her own hands.