Guarding the key to the war’s end was a massive responsibility, and Cerid felt immeasurably weighed by it. When he saw a drowsy Dorothea and Shark in the dining hall that morning for his first day on his new post, the girl’s head on her friend’s shoulder as she fought sleep, he felt terrified. Previous interactions had gone over well enough, but things had changed. Now that they were to be in constant contact… He’d given up by the time he sat down.

Cerid’s bad habit, one that had cost him many potential friendships, was honesty. He never intended outright to be rude or demeaning, cruel or flippant, but it always seemed to end up that way. Maybe he could just never speak again? Impossible. He secretly hoped that everyone would be too busy yawning and eating to strike up a conversation.

But that is exactly what Shark did. They were a friendly person, and Cerid enjoyed that, but he also envied that it all seemed so effortless. He still couldn’t help but smile as Shark beamed at him and said loudly, “Good morning! At least one of us looks refreshed.”

Cerid opened his mouth to reply, but Shark had already turned to Dorothea.

“Thea, sit up. You’re drooling. You’re literally drooling on me. Stop it. Come on.” They pushed her upwards, and the girl blinked blearily.

“The sun’s not even out, and yet here we are,” she sighed. “But I know I shouldn’t complain. I’ll get used to it, Shark, and then your life will be drool free.”

“Please wipe your chin,” Cerid said. “You look unkempt.” Why did he put it that way? Why couldn’t he have just said that she had a little something on her face and he didn’t want her to end up embarrassed by it? It was so much easier to think of how to rephrase things after the fact. Or was he overthinking it? Should he put more thought into not thinking?

Dorothea did as Cerid had suggested while Shark laughed. “Unkempt is such a nice way of putting it, Cerid! You’re a real gentleman,” they chortled.

Nice? Gentleman? How unexpected. Or maybe it was a sly insult? He’d never been able to tell what people really meant. Understandings that came intuitively to others were, for Cerid, a matter of clinical observation that often failed.

When a person frowned and crossed their arms, they were angry. When they smiled, they were happy, but if their brows were pushed down and eyes narrowed while they were smiling, they weren’t necessarily happy, and that expression could mean a myriad of different things. Tears could be happy or sad or a mixture of both. Yelling could mean danger or play; this had landed Cerid into trouble with some poorly-interpreted situations and interventions.

To avoid that trouble, he had to be careful. If everyone else was laughing, Cerid needed to laugh. When he spoke, he needed to make sure his tone changed when it needed to. This was easier said than done and part of why his honesty was always taken the wrong way; his flat tone made it seem like he was looking down on everyone around him. At least, that’s what he’d been told. Additionally, he needed to be cognizant of his tendency to rock back and forth when idle.

“Hey, Cerid. I have a question.” Dorothea, without drool on her face, looked much nicer. She and Shark both looked nice, really. They had new outfits suited for the temperature—for Dorothea, a high-necked, short-sleeved shirt of a dusty pink with high-waisted brown shorts that billowed out from her legs, thigh-high black socks, and brown boots.

For Shark, the garments were more flashy. Half of the lower article was a gray plaid skirt that hung only on the left side a few inches above the knee while pants legs extended down on both sides to white boots. A three-quarter sleeved gray shirt had a broad and deep neckline, and there was a green tank top underneath that still left room to reveal the lines of a hard, toned chest with defined collarbones. And their earrings… Sparkling softly, from the bottom up, small teardrop-shaped pearls, then small green gems, purple gems, pink ones, and finally blue ones peeking out in the shells of their ears, all in different shapes.

Yes, they were both handsome people. Shark especially was so very…

No. That was one such thought that needed to stop. His position. Cerid needed to always consider his position first.

He was so wrapped up in himself that he missed whatever Dorothea said next, and then she and Shark were looking at him expectantly. “Excuse me. Will you repeat what you just said?” he asked, face heating with embarrassment. It didn’t help that Ariana rolled her eyes at him.

Dorothea smiled. “I was wondering if there was a place of worship here. I haven’t prayed properly since leaving home.”

“Oh, yes. The chapelis near my home. I can take you there anytime you would like.”

“Speaking of your house, what’s it like to live in that fancy mansion?” Shark asked. “It’s a pretty sweet setup.”

It was lonely. Cerid had a gaggle of siblings and a wide array of extended family and inlaws in that house, and yet it was lonely. “It is a home,” he replied.

“How ungrateful,” Ariana muttered, earning a glare from Shark.

Cerid bowed his head in shame. She was right in implying he should count his blessings, but still… “Let us be off,” he said tonelessly, sliding to his feet.

Shark and Dorothea looked at each other, stuffed a few last bites of their breakfast into their mouths, and followed. Ariana trailed them at a distance, and Cerid could feel her glower heating his back. He didn’t dislike her the smallest bit, and, as far as he was aware, he’d never done anything to her personally. It was the place in which both of them stood that founded and sustained her animosity towards him, he believed.

By luck and by design, there were those with power and those without. The magic one was gifted with through lineage designated their proper place. Granted, hard work was able to heighten one’s prospects—Commander Nobelis was an example. However, for some, like Ariana as a former Ghurian in Sacer during wartime, there would never be any getting ahead. Cerid had gotten to where he was while being of hardly any use to anyone, so it was no wonder she detested him. He couldn’t say anything to her jabs in light of that.

Out of nine brothers and sisters, the bumbling Cerid had been chosen to inherit the prestige and responsibility of the next family head. Ariana certainly wasn’t the only one to show her displeasure. Even so, Cerid had no choice but to fall in line and make the best of the situation.

All children of the Creed family, especially the future head, had to remember two things above all else. The first was to use their power for the good of all. The second was that it was imperative to continue the family line. It was commonly known and accepted that no Creed had ever picked their own partners. The selection pool consisted of those whose magics were known to be recessive so that Thaw would be guaranteed to continue.

It was a silent, heavy demand that Cerid couldn’t escape from. The fact that he had never been attracted to a woman was something he had the sense to keep to himself. He had also never had the courage to ask his father, Cinder Creed, why he had had this weighty honor foisted upon him.

Not long after he had been granted his title, just over a year ago now, Commander Nobelis had drafted him into her elite unit even though there were so many more viable candidates. This joined him with Hollyhock Novak, Rhys Tamlin, who had at the time just been promoted to captaincy to replace the late Dale Holmfen, and Ariana Kingfisher. He realized his place when he confronted Iree on the matter personally a week after being inducted.

“Why me?” he blurted when he was able to seize a very rare chance alone with the commander at a ghastly hour of the night in the dining hall.

Iree looked up from the notes she was jotting with a bemused smile and spoke as if the conclusion were obvious. “Because you’re the next head.”

Ah. So the family head position had granted him another undeserved standing. “I-I see…”

Iree sighed. “I wouldn’t have considered you otherwise. But in terms of my image, I could do worse than to have the endorsement of the Creed family’s next leader. You get me? I’m only being this frank because I know you won’t be an ass about it, by the way.”

Cerid only nodded. He was so pathetic. Utterly worthless. There was nothing more to him than a magic he could barely make use of and his damned title.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’ve got potential. But you’re just not worth it right now.” Iree shook her head. “I’ll give you an example. Someone like Ariana Kingfisher represents everything I want to put forward. Power, boldness, and drive. Hard decisions and necessary ones. You, however, represent everything I hate. Hesitation. Authority without merit. Wasted power. Really, if you weren’t the next head, what good would you be?”

It felt like she was freely rummaging through the worst of his thoughts. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so direct, though he also found her candor refreshing. Here was someone telling him what he needed to hear no matter how much it hurt.

“Here’s some advice. Even if you don’t believe it, act like you’re the strongest, most amazing person in the room. There’ll hardly be a use for you otherwise. I’m being brutal because I know you can become so much more than you are right now, but it’s up to how much effort you’re willing to put in.”

She’d cut down to his core that day, and the conversation often streamed through his head even now. Cerid was weak, and he wanted to change, but it was easier said than done. Though he asked Commander Nobelis and Captain Tamlin to help him by not coming to his aid in battle, his progress was still too slow. The despair was so impenetrable. Shouldn’t someone so useless just stay out of sight?

The border incident that led to his first meeting with Dorothea and Shark had been the final straw. Iree had trusted him to accompany a squad on a routine patrol, something that should have gone swimmingly with little effort, and he’d let them all die. As a future leader and soldier, he was nothing. Cerid had gone to Equin and demanded help on moral grounds, but he’d never been in the position to ask for anything.

Yet, somehow, everything had gone in his favor. His comrades had been brought back from the dead, and he had personally delivered control of time to the Sacerian army. He had delivered Dorothea and Shark, dragged them away from their home and tied them to war. His duty to protect them was personal. It was a responsibility he wanted and willingly answered the call to.

Scared to ruin things with his foolish mouth, he was largely silent during the escort to the chapel. Dorothea and Shark chattered in their casual, ceaseless way while Ariana grumbled behind them. Then, Cerid felt Shark’s arm over his shoulders yet again.

He didn’t know how to respond. It was reasonable enough for him to be attracted to someone who wasn’t a woman, he supposed, so long as he didn’t act on it. Still, giving himself the allowance to admit it was dangerous in itself. He had to stop. All was for his duty, he had to remind himself as he shrugged Shark off. There was no way to fight against it, and he had no right to entertain the thought of indulging after what he had cost others.

“Oh!” Shark’s eyes were wide, and they gasped as if just realizing something. “Sorry, Cerid. I’m a hugger. I kinda forget other people aren’t the same way. I’ll stop, promise.”

It was so nice to be reached out to. Cerid wanted more of it. Gods, it felt like he was being torn apart. “So long as we understand one another. I would rather not indulge in such things.” His tone was scornful where he hadn’t meant it to be. No, it was more like the scorn sounded as if it was directed at Shark when it was the opposite. He was jealous that Shark had the freedoms he didn’t, and he was mad at himself for being mad.

Shark frowned. “Uh, okay. That’s fine. Do you.”

No, no no no. Cerid had messed up again. He was ruining something again. “I, I am sorry,” he stammered, almost begging. “That is not what I meant, I…” There was no way to explain it. In different circumstances, he might have been bold and attempted searching for a partner towards whom he was naturally inclined, never mind how difficult his personality would make that. But he was to produce heirs. That effort didn’t even require love.

Shark studied him. Then, mercifully, they grinned. “It’s alright. Just lemme know if you change your mind, ‘kay?” They winked, and Cerid’s chest tightened.

It hurt. It hurt so, so badly. It wasn’t as if the possibility of changing his mind existed. Cerid tried to craft a coherent response, but there came an unexpected cut-in.

“Shut up and calm down, will you all?” Ariana said tiredly. “It’s too early for your drama.”

Cerid looked over his shoulder and met her eyes for a split second. There, in her eyes. Was it...pity? Sympathy? But then she was glaring again, turning her face away sharply, and he couldn’t be sure.

He donned a wobbly smile and allowed the subject to be dropped from there. Amidst his constant mental struggle and a lengthy, overly detailed tour of Springen, including a spot of prayer on his and Dorothea’s part in the chapel, Dorothea’s growling stomach reminded him that people generally did in fact need to eat. Cerid prepared to list off suggestions of available restaurants arranged from lowest to highest price but was cut off.

“We’re splitting up into two groups,” Ariana stated curtly. “Dorothea is coming with me. We’ll meet up back here.” Before anyone could protest, she had seized Dorothea’s wrist and whisked her away from where they stood before the entrance to the bustling market street.

And that was how, to his terrified delight, Cerid found himself once again standing alone with Shark Olyen.