Wednesday arrived like it had somewhere better to be—too bright, too brisk, too impatient for the way my chest kept snagging on the same thought.
A month.
A month since Myrina walked out of the guild with a grin and a promise like she'd just gone to buy bread.
A month of learning how quiet a house could get without turning cruel.
A month of checking the lock twice.
Sometimes three times.
A month of staring at hands—always hands—because hands told the truth before mouths did.
But also…
A month of not freezing in front of the guild doors.
That counted. Even if my brain tried to pretend it didn't.
I tugged my cap lower and kept walking. My coin pouch bounced at my hip with a weight that still felt wrong, like I'd stolen it from a better version of myself.
Three copper and seventy-eight iron.
Not noble money.
Not even comfortable money.
But it wasn't empty.
And it was mine.
***
The guild hit me like it always did—smell first, noise second.
Wet leather. Stew. Ink. Sweat. Oil. A thousand lives pressed together in one building, all pretending they weren't one bad decision away from becoming someone else's story.
Nerissa looked up from the counter and smiled like she'd been expecting me.
"Trey," she called. "Look at you. Still alive."
"I'm always alive," I muttered.
Then immediately regretted it because it sounded like a challenge to the universe.
A laugh rumbled from the benches.
Barrek. Of course it was Barrek.
"Listen to him!" he boomed. "A whole month without his sister and he's sprouted confidence."
"Confidence is expensive," another veteran called. "Did you buy it with copper?"
I kept my eyes low, tracking hands instead of faces.
Tankards lifted. Coins rolled between fingers. Someone retied a braid with quick, practiced movements—hands that knew how to secure something before it slipped away.
Barrek lifted his drink at me. "Morning, pup."
"I'm not a pup," I said—and the words came out steadier than they used to.
Barrek grinned wider. "Sure. You're a… what's the word… a sapling."
A veteran woman with a thick braid snorted. "Saplings break."
"Not if you keep watering them," Barrek shot back.
"Why are you talking like a farmer?" she snapped.
Barrek shrugged like it made perfect sense. "Kid's been doing errands. Maybe he's got dirt under his nails now."
My fingers twitched. I glanced down before I could stop myself.
There was dirt under my nails.
Not much.
But it was there.
That tiny fact tightened something in my chest—half pride, half embarrassment, like feeling proud was illegal.
A sharp voice cut through the banter from the trainee hallway.
"That's right," Finn called. "He's a professional weed wrestler."
I flinched—stupid reflex.
Finn was half-in, half-out of the hallway, hair messy, eyes narrowed against the day like morning had personally insulted him. He saw me and decided my existence was entertainment.
"You here to do fruit delivery too?" he asked.
"I don't do fruit," I said.
Finn squinted at me like I was an insect he hadn't named yet. "You look like someone who does fruit."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means everything," Finn declared—then yawned so wide he swallowed the end of his own sentence.
Behind him, the hallway stayed empty.
No Bram. No calm shadow that turned Finn's drama into luggage.
Relief loosened my shoulders before I could scold myself for it.
I drifted toward the counter.
Nerissa's hands were moving in their usual rhythm—stamp, slide, stamp, slide—like the guild's chaos was just paperwork wearing louder clothes.
I'd practiced this.
I'd asked before.
I still hated asking.
"Nerissa," I said.
Her stamp paused—only long enough to tell me she'd heard the thing under my voice.
"Yes?" she asked gently.
I swallowed and forced the words out before my throat could lock. "Do you… know anything about my sister's quest?"
Nerissa didn't pretend she didn't know who I meant. She reached under the counter and pulled out the quest log book—thick enough to knock someone out and still have pages left.
She flipped through it with practiced fingers.
Barrek made sure the entire room could hear. "Aw, look. Sapling's asking for updates like he's a commander."
"Shut up," I muttered.
Barrek laughed like that was exactly what he wanted.
Nerissa's fingertip slid down a line.
Then she looked up.
Her smile was still there.
But careful. Like glass.
"The first batch is on their way back," she said.
My chest jumped so hard it hurt.
"Back?" My voice cracked.
Nerissa nodded. "Based on the schedule the capital sent, the first return should arrive tomorrow."
Tomorrow.
The word landed like sunlight on my face after too many days of clouds.
My mouth forgot how to work. My brain sprinted ahead, already grabbing hope by the wrist—
"Is Myrina—"
Nerissa lifted a hand, gentle but firm, stopping my hope mid-sprint before it could crash into a wall.
"I can't see individual names until they sign the arrival ledger," she said. "But if she left with the first wave… she'll be with the first return."
Barrek leaned forward, voice rude and weirdly kind at the same time. "See? Told you. Your sister's too stubborn to die."
"Don't jinx it," the braided woman snapped.
Barrek lifted his tankard. "I don't jinx. I insult the universe into behaving."
Finn muttered, loud enough to be heard, "That explains your face."
Barrek flicked something at him.
Finn ducked too late.
The peanut hit Finn's forehead with a soft tink and bounced onto his desk like it had achieved greatness.
Finn stared at it solemnly. "This is violence."
Barrek grinned. "Welcome to the guild."
Nerissa leaned closer, voice warm. "Go pick an errand, Trey. Don't stand here and vibrate."
I realized my knee was bouncing.
I forced it to stop. "Okay," I said—like it was an order I didn't mind obeying.
I turned toward the errand board.
A month ago, I would've stood there until the paper turned into ash and the sun died.
Now I walked right up.
My eyes still tried to read everything at once, but my hand didn't freeze.
Carry water. Sweep steps. Deliver sacks. Mend fences.
And then—
FRUIT PICKING — THORN ORCHARD — 50 IRON
I stared at it because it wasn't hard.
It was different.
Different meant it could be a present.
Not noble money. Not a platinum. But something that tasted like home.
My fingers pinched the parchment and pulled it free.
Barrek's voice boomed like he'd been waiting for the moment. "Ah! Fruit!"
I stiffened.
Barrek sounded far too delighted.
"What?" I called.
Barrek leaned back, grin wicked. "Nothing. Just nice. Our sapling is choosing a quest that doesn't involve hitting furniture."
Finn's laugh cracked out. "That was one time!"
"It was many times," Lina chimed in from somewhere with cheerful certainty, like she kept a written record of my humiliation.
I ignored them and went back to the counter.
Nerissa glanced at the parchment and nodded. "Thorn Orchard. Good. Not dangerous. Mostly."
"Mostly?" I repeated, and my stomach tried to fold in half.
Nerissa's smile sharpened. "Fruit falls. Gravity is cruel."
I leaned in anyway, lowering my voice. "Can I… ask him to swap the reward?"
"Swap?"
"Like… some fruit instead of coin," I said quickly. "A basket. For my sister."
Nerissa's gaze softened. She didn't call it sweet. She didn't treat me like a child.
She stayed practical—because practical was kinder than pity.
"You can ask," she said. "But don't demand. The contract is coin. Anything else is kindness."
I nodded—caught myself mid-motion—stopped.
Nerissa noticed and hid a smile behind her hand. "Look at you," she murmured. "Self-control."
My face warmed.
She stamped the parchment and slid it back. "Be back before late afternoon. And drink water."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
From the benches, Barrek called, "Bring me an apple!"
"Pay me," I shot back without thinking.
The bench area went quiet for half a heartbeat.
Then Barrek barked laughter like I'd punched him in the chest. "Ha! All right, sapling! Teeth!"
My face burned.
But my feet didn't slow as I left.
I cant wait for tomorrow.