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Chapter 881: A Hundred Times Yes

The sun was going down behind the mountains and forests, gilding everything it touched on its way out. The sky shifted from blue to white to red, and the last of the light laid a crimson skin across the thick grassland below.

At the edge of the Gilen Family’s domain stood a low, rounded hill. From its crest Nightingale could see the whole of what had once been hers — the farmhouses, the furrowed fields, the forests that pressed up against the mountains. When she was small she had liked to ride on her father’s shoulders all the way up, to see the full picture of their property spread out below. When her parents’ bodies had been brought back — bruised and broken — and the servants had come to her, asking where she wished them buried, she had chosen the hill without hesitation.

She had still half-believed they might open their eyes.

That if they did, they would see her and her brother no matter where in the mansion the two of them stood.

Now she was back at their tombstones, and her reasons were entirely different.

There was little dust on the stones. Someone had been tending them. She knelt, and placed a neatly folded sheaf of white paper before the two markers.

Viscount Somi’s judgment.

Faced with evidence he could not refute, he had collapsed quickly. After Roland promised his minor children would not be punished for the crimes he had committed, Dott Somi had confessed to the Dreamland Water smuggling and told the whole story of how he had seized the Gilen Family’s properties.

It turned out there really was something buried in the valley between the two families’ domains — not a gem mine, but a likely gold deposit.

A farmer working for the Somi Family had found it.

Because of the geography, what the Gilens called the valley was actually at the lower edge of Somi’s land. The Somi farmers had drawn water and bathed there for years. One day a fortunate man found gold dust in the spring. He brought others to search, and word eventually reached Dott Somi.

He silenced them at once and sent his own men to trace the dust upstream.

The result had disappointed him. They found more gold, and they guessed the coarse flakes in the river were being washed out of rock by years of water erosion — but the ore itself seemed to lie closest to the Gilen side of the valley. There was no clean way to reach it.

Silver City’s special status meant that local nobles were limited in how many knights and armed retainers they could keep. Dott could not simply take the land by force. Staring at a treasure he could not touch, he had turned his eyes on the Gilens.

His instrument had been old Gilen — a distant relative of the family, untitled and landless.

The plan was ruthlessly simple. Old Gilen had no manor and no rank; Dott offered him the real thing — mastery of the Gilen Family — in exchange for a strip of land once everything was settled. Old Gilen could not resist the dream of becoming a genuine noble, and so he agreed.

Dott bribed the Rats to murder Nightingale’s parents in the refugee riots. Old Gilen then stepped forward, all generosity, and took in Hyde and Nightingale to manage the domain in their minority. The plan had been to wait until Hyde came of age and then pressure him into surrendering his manor and title. An heir without parents was a bird in a cage; any noble who objected could only blame old Gilen for his personal greed.

But Nightingale’s awakening had ruined it. On the day she came of age, she killed old Gilen and vanished into the air. He died without ever holding the title he had spent years positioning himself to steal.

Dott Somi had to rework everything. Old Gilen had been easy to buy — but a single bargaining chip, the title, could not carry the weight of the whole Gilen household. He had to play it more carefully.

He turned, in the end, to Hyde.

When Nightingale first heard this, she had almost laughed. The thing that had always been Hyde’s was now dangled before him as a prize he had to earn — and Hyde, naive enough to trust the man who had had their parents killed, had not hesitated for a moment before agreeing. With Somi’s backing, Hyde had weathered the scramble among his relatives and secured the title of heir. According to their arrangement, the two families would eventually merge. Hyde went through with it not out of loyalty to the agreement but because he had no other choice — after years of internal strife, the Gilen estate was nearly broken and his people had mostly gone.

Ten years of scheming, and at the end of it Dott Somi had gotten what he wanted. He had even managed to start accumulating capital from the Dreamland Water trade, intending to begin extracting the mine in careful stages once its vein was fully located. A century of wealth, waiting in the rock.

Roland destroyed all of it.

For a gold mine that might never have existed as he imagined it, Dott had murdered fellow nobles and shattered several families. A scheme that killed nearly twenty people ended with a noose. He never laid eyes on the mine.

Nightingale drew her flint and set the judgment paper alight.

Roland had told her of an old custom — shaping paper into whatever one wished to give, burning it at dusk, and trusting the smoke to carry it through. At the hour when day and night pressed closest together, fire with intention in it had a chance of passing between worlds.

That was the belief, anyway. Roland himself didn’t really accept the idea of two worlds standing that near each other. She didn’t particularly care.

She wasn’t trying to comfort her parents.

She was trying to comfort herself.


By the time she walked back down the hill the sky had gone fully dark.

Roland was waiting below. The moment she made out his familiar silhouette the tightness in her chest eased.

“Is this really all right?” He twitched his mouth. “Letting him walk away untouched. I’ve been wanting to teach him a lesson.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “As who, exactly?”

“Ahem.” He coughed twice. “As a king, of course.”

Nightingale shook her head. “It’s over. I’m done with him. If you want to teach him a lesson so badly, you can always send men to bring him back and beat him properly.”

“Since you’ve let it go,” Roland said, spreading his hands, “so will I.”

“Mm.” Nightingale stopped walking.

She turned to face him, knelt, and brought her fist to her chest the way she had on the day she first swore herself to his service. “Your Majesty — will you allow me to remain by your side? To serve you for as long as you’ll have me?”

“Why do you bring this up now?” Roland looked startled. “Haven’t I already agreed?”

“Because I want to hear it again.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, stepped forward, and rested his hand on her head. “Then listen carefully. Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes — a hundred times yes. Are you satisfied?”

The magic string did not stir. It lay still and soft, like the earth holding quiet under a night sky.

I was lucky to find him.

Nightingale let herself smile, and rose. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

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