Chapter 20
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Dawn broke on the day Edwin would encounter Rina, marking two days since she and Connie shared the festival’s bustle.
Kyle’s thoughts churned wildly when Edwin pushed through the café’s front entrance, bypassing the guild entirely, with zero advance word.
Confusion gripped him over the abrupt arrival. Perhaps a vital note had evaded delivery.
He swept forward bearing a polished grin, steering Edwin toward a sunlit perch. “Morning. Fine skies call for window seating.”
Every bit the affable proprietor greeting a steady patron.
Edwin eased into the chair at a deliberate pace, his face locked in standard disinterest.
Kyle lingered at his side, smile unwavering, every inch the poised attendant awaiting a request.
Inside, though, disquiet twisted through him. Dread pooled low, born of fretting over some overlooked command.
Duty sharpened his precision to a razor’s edge, yet this unheralded drop-in from command sparked needless self-doubt over phantom errors.
“Water will do,” Edwin murmured with drowsy indifference, scorning spirits—in essence, acclaiming the venue’s finest pour.
Grumbling tempted Kyle under normal stars, but faint hollows framing Edwin’s eyes quelled him. He delivered the glass mute.
Thirst drove Edwin to drain it fast. Then he melted forward onto the surface.
Kyle clocked the anomaly and claimed the opposite perch. “Everything all right?”
Their bond surfaced in that uncommon candid beat.
From his wilted slump, Edwin confessed. “Rest eluded me.”
Chaos never robbed such a warrior of slumber or appetite. Kyle mused that bulk like his demanded hearty fuel and deep repose.
“Night raid?” Kyle breathed, voice pitched for secrecy amid patrons.
Edwin shifted upright a fraction, countering sharply. “Could rivals pierce palace depths for a strike?”
Icy amusement tugged his lips, snapping back to character.
Kyle’s bafflement hung as Edwin sifted through his turmoil.
Silence stretched before admission trickled free. “Visions of Ms. Diaz haunted me. Strange reverie stole my peace.”
Vagueness rang foreign on him. That moniker clashed here.
Post-Camelot tax tangle’s end, Carolina Diaz seemed buried history to Kyle.
Edwin sensed the insistent probe and appended. “Likely linked to our pending clash.”
Uncertainty shadowed his words.
Kyle leaned in. “Linking up with Ms. Diaz soon?”
“Yeah. Hours away yet.”
“Wrap the remnants? I could handle it.”
Edwin seized the line. “Beyond loose threads.”
Reflection brewed, yielding cover. “Debt lingers from her aid. Clearing it myself.”
Tenderness ghosted his look at her name.
Kyle’s emerald stare traced Edwin’s traits undetected.
“Palace escape solely for her?”
“Plenty of lead time.”
“Hours got away from me.”
Kyle schooled his features to bland courtesy for his sovereign.
Warzone rearing forged dreamers from steel, he reflected privately.
Tongue clucked soft behind cover later. Sparks need not forge rings. Ignition itself hung in doubt.
Deeper digs into Diaz and Renkels houses beckoned as safeguard.
Kyle flicked a gaze sidelong. Edwin’s digit danced urgent patterns on wood.
Articulating eagerness might summon Edwin’s latent flutters into being.
Kyle held tongue against meddling. Whim might fade swift.
Deeper down, he banked on ephemera. Throne’s grip disdained pacts, though bloodlines craved peerage typically.
Barring Diaz seizing Renkels helm.
Steadfast lineage there. No poor match.
Kyle tallied sovereignty’s jewel versus Rina’s pull, then abandoned scales. Arrogance to weigh absent her heart’s lean.
Edwin’s beat accelerated through Kyle’s drift. Awake eyes betrayed fancies chasing Grizel Park; Kyle’s head swayed frank.
Backing off-limits, still… “Venturing forth in disguise?”
Ebony cloak shrouded deep, profile alone escaping.
Dominion, coffers, countenance—sole lures.
To her, sovereign masqueraded as Everett Rojas. No flaunt ground; charm must carry.
Kyle whisked hood aside. Prospects leaped. No hurrahs, yet pity barred wipeout.
“Favor demands decorum, no?”
Edwin’s reclaiming fingers halted. “Overlooked entirely.”
Café’s glow painted first-crush youth across his brow.
“Meal venue fixed?”
“Loose ends. Her palate’s mystery.”
Kyle trapped mirth, anticipated.
“Handover point?”
“Vicinity suffices.”
Verdict drawn, Kyle tasked a comrade with booking—cozy nook, hushed tones, liaison primed.
Lock-in echoed, yet dual hours loomed till Rina.
Edwin dawdled blind to inner churn, café’s hush amplifying void sans trade.
Endurance cracked; Kyle proposed. “Buffer remains. Tailor steps off? Polish for the venue.”
Not victory aid, but robe’s gloom risked her chagrin.
Dignity for damsel rang true. Light-footed, Kyle tagged along.
“Off-shelf excellence here, no corners cut.”
Edwin gravitated dark garb. Kyle nixed. “Echoes the shroud.”
Restowed. Proprietor hailed bore striking wares on instinct.
Kyle culled shadows-free, mandated tweaks.
Limbs honed true, hour pressed.
Inspection capped. Fingers crossed she prized sharp jaws.
Grace first fling from ruin.
“Launch time.”
Edwin’s focus strayed glassward, timing etched.
Kyle dispatched. Dodge the swift brush-off.
Secret tryst—Kyle’s lone witness—unspooled for the clueless pair.
