Chapter 105: The Tree Beyond the Walls

"Where is Orion?"

The words had barely left Sophia’s lips before Ronan’s brows shot up. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth.

"Not good enough company, am I?" he teased, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "You’d rather my brooding best friend than me? That stings, Sophia. Truly."

"I wouldn’t really call Orion brooding." She told him.

"No?"

"He’s more of an annoyance?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

Ronan chuckled. "That doesn’t make any sense and it just proves the point that you’d prefer his company to mine. I’m hurt, truly." Ronan said with a hand to his chest as he stumbled back.

Sophia gave him a look, half amused and half exasperated. "You’re good company, Ronan. Although when you do things like this, you’re not very much good company. But... it’s not that. Orion promised to show me around the festival, and I haven’t seen him since his speech earlier. I even thought that at some point we might run into him, but it’s been a while now and nothing."

Ronan’s grin faltered. The humor drained from his face as quickly as it had come, leaving behind something sharper, heavier. It was similar to the same look that had passed between Lysander and Brhnhild when she told them that Orion had promised to show her around. Ronan studied her in silence for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing as if he were trying to pry a truth from her skin.

"He promised you?" His voice was low, not the usual playful cadence.

Sophia nodded without hesitation. "Yes. He told me we’d likely see each other during the festival."

The intensity in Ronan’s gaze deepened. For a moment she wondered if she had said something wrong, if there was some hidden weight to Orion’s promise that she hadn’t understood. But instead of explaining, Ronan pushed off from where he stood and jerked his head toward a row of stalls glittering with lantern light.

"Come with me," he said.

"Wait...where are we going?" she asked.

"You’ll see."

It was an infuriatingly Orion-like answer, but Sophia followed anyway.

The square bustled around them, alive with movement and sound. Drums thumped faintly from a distant square where dancers twirled in brightly dyed skirts. Laughter erupted near the game stalls, the sharp clang of a blacksmith’s hammer rang as someone showcased forged trinkets, and the air was thick with the scent of spiced meats, honey cakes, and roasted nuts. Lanterns swayed overhead, casting amber and green hues across the crowd.

Ronan cut through it all with easy familiarity, leading Sophia to a wooden stall draped with vines and hung with little carved charms that clicked together like windchimes. Behind the counter stood a stout woman with a red kerchief tied around her head, her sleeves rolled up as she poured a dark liquid from a clay jug into wide-bellied tankards.

"Two," Ronan ordered.

Sophia frowned. "If that’s alcohol, I should warn you I don’t drink."

That earned her one of his lopsided grins. He accepted the tankards, then handed one to her. "Relax, princess. It’s grapejuice. Strongest thing in it is sugar."

Skeptical, Sophia brought it to her lips and took a tentative sip. Sweetness flooded her tongue, tart but refreshing, and she blinked in surprise. "You weren’t lying."

Ronan smirked. "I don’t need liquor to have fun." He lifted his tankard in mock salute and drank deeply.

What Sophia didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. This juice was known for its sweetness and high alcohol content but she wouldn’t know.

Sophia rolled her eyes, but her lips curved faintly. She sipped again, then glanced at him sidelong. "So... are you going to tell me where Orion is now?"

Ronan’s expression sobered, though not as sharply as before. He leaned an elbow against the counter, tankard dangling loosely in his hand. "He doesn’t really join in the festivities. Not like this."

She tilted her head. "Why not?"

"That’s not mine to explain." His tone was final, but not unkind. He took another swallow of juice before continuing. "If you want to know, you’ll have to hear it from him."

Sophia pressed her lips together. The stubbornness in her wanted to push further, but the heaviness in Ronan’s eyes kept her quiet. He looked like a man who carried more of Orion’s secrets than he ever wanted to.

Instead, she asked softly, "So where is he?"

This time, Ronan smiled gentler, thoughtful. He set his tankard down and gestured for the vendor. "Two flasks," he said.

The woman nodded, reaching beneath the stall. She brought out two cured leather wineskins, the kind travelers slung across their backs for long hunts or patrols. Ronan filled them both from the jug and capped them with cork. Then he pressed them into Sophia’s hands.

"Maybe," he said, "you can change his mind."

She looked down at the flask, then back at him. "Change his mind about what?"

"About being a ghost during the festival." Ronan’s grin returned, but this time it carried warmth. He clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Orion’ll be at his favorite spot."

Sophia blinked. "His favorite spot?"

Ronan gave her a nod. She remembered Orion telling her something like that when they had been at the hot spring.

"The tree," she murmured.

Ronan gave her a wide eyed look. "You know of it?" He asked her.

"He mentioned it but I don’t know where it is exactly." She told him.

Ronan nodded, satisfied. "It’s not too far from the pack building, just outside the grounds. I’m sure you’ve seen it on your way to the shrine. It’s huge. The branches spread so wide they nearly scrape the sky, and the roots rise tall enough to sit on. It’s the only tree in that clearing. He’s always there when he wants quiet."

"But why would he want quiet during the festival?" She asked him.

Ronan smiled. "That’s a question for him too. Now off you go." Ronan said shooing her away.

Sophia stood up and gave him a mock salute before finding her way towards the pack gates while Ronan stared at her disappearing figure hoping that she could help lessen the guilt Orion felt regarding the festival.