Lafayette hated traveling light. Kitsune lived for it.
"You don't need three cloaks," Kitsune said, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "This isn't a diplomatic mission. No one's impressed by embroidery in Linhaven."
Lafayette didn't dignify that with a response. He was already on his horse, posture rigid, cloak billowing just enough to make a point.
Calia trotted ahead of them both, tongue out and ears perked, as if this were a grand adventure instead of a delicate inquiry into a buried rebellion.
The palace guards had been instructed that the Duke was away on personal business. No details given. None needed.
They rode hard until the city walls disappeared into the haze behind them. The world opened up beyond the capital fields and thickets, the scent of spring barely clinging to the wind, and silence stretching long between conversations neither of them wanted to start.
After a time, Kitsune finally broke it. "You ever been to Linhaven?"
"Once," Lafayette replied. "Years ago. It was forgettable."
"Let's hope Marah Veil isn't."
Lafayette gave him a sideways glance. "You sound too hopeful for someone chasing a ghost."
"I've been chasing ghosts most of my life. Some of them turn out to be real."
"And some turn out to be lies you told yourself just to keep moving."
Kitsune didn't answer that.
They made camp by a bend in the river that night. Calia curled between them, ears twitching at every forest sound.
As they sat by the fire, Kitsune stared into the flames and said, "If she doesn't remember him… if she doesn't care..."
"She will," Lafayette said, not unkindly. "She was assigned to a prince. That's not a position easily forgotten."
Kitsune didn't look away from the fire. "Neither is losing one."