The Secret of the Violet Mark

Chapter 5: Domestic Dissonance

The swarm of violet butterflies flickered and dissolved into nothingness as they crossed the village threshold, leaving the road behind them as solid, mundane dirt once more.

Bayu wiped the sweat from his brow, his hand lingering near his hilt. "That was... a warning."

Galang didn't look back. He adjusted his tunic, adopting a jaunty, unbothered swagger that felt entirely alien to the situation. "Or an invitation. Either way, keep your hand off the steel, darling. We’re supposed to be travelers, not soldiers on patrol."

"I hate this," Bayu grumbled, his voice dropping as a local woman passed them with a suspicious squint. "How do you do that? You’re acting like we’re on a holiday."

"It’s called 'acting,' Bay. Try it. Smile more. Maybe look at me like you actually enjoy my company?"

"I’d rather jump off a cliff."

"Careful, the tether might treat that as a group activity."

They reached the front desk of a sagging wooden inn called The Roost. Bayu leaned over, trying to keep his posture relaxed, though his muscles were coiled like a spring.

"One room," Bayu said to the innkeeper, a man whose nose was buried in a ledger. "Two beds if you have them."

"Only one left, traveler," the man grunted, not looking up. "Double bed. Take it or find a hayloft."

Galang leaned in, resting his chin on his palm. "We’ll take it. My husband and I have been traveling for weeks. We’re quite exhausted."

Bayu’s face went stiff. "Husband?"

Galang turned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, 'traveling partners' sounds like we’re selling spice, and 'friends' makes the innkeeper wonder why you’re sleeping on the floor. 'Husband' shuts people up. Don't look so insulted, it’s just a word."

"It’s a lie."

"It’s survival. Get over it."

The room was cramped, smelling of lavender and damp wool. Bayu immediately crossed to the window, peering out at the village square.

"See anything?" Galang asked, dropping his pack and stretching. He winced, clutching his side.

"Just locals. A few farmers. No Vanguard," Bayu reported, though his heart rate didn't slow.

"Good. Now, are you going to stand there judging the architecture all night, or are you going to help me with this bandage?"

Bayu turned, his gaze falling on the jagged, violet-tinted wound on Galang’s ribs. "You should have said it was still bleeding."

"I was busy trying to convince the world we’re blissfully wed. Can’t look weak while playing the lover, can I?"

Bayu walked over, his movements efficient and practiced. He began unwrapping the ruined cloth. "You’re an idiot. You’re going to get an infection, and then we’re both going to die of fever."

"But at least I’ll die in a warm bed with a view. Better than that muddy trench back in the woods."

"Stop talking."

"You’re doing it again," Galang noted, his voice turning soft. "The 'I’m just doing my job' tone. You don’t need to be professional with me, Bayu. We’re literally tied together by magic."

Bayu pulled the cloth away, his fingers brushing against Galang’s warm skin. The tether pulsed—a warm, electric hum that traveled up Bayu’s arm and settled into the center of his chest.

"Does that… burn?" Bayu whispered, his eyes locked on the glowing mark.

"It pulses. Like a heartbeat that isn't mine," Galang replied, his smirk softening into something genuinely curious. "It’s weirdly… comforting. Like you’re actually here."

"I am here."

"I noticed."

There was a long silence, filled only by the sounds of the village below. Bayu didn't pull his hand away.

"Galang," Bayu started, his voice heavy. "About what the oracle said. The thing about… the poison."

"If we fall for each other, we die. Yeah, I remember."

"I’m not planning on falling for anything, let alone a thief."

"Good. Because your taste in men is clearly abysmal."

Bayu let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Is it?"

"Well, you’re currently nursing a wanted criminal in a fleabag inn while hiding from the most powerful military force in the kingdom. I’d say your judgment is non-existent."

"Maybe I just like the challenge."

"Careful, Dirgantara. That sounded almost affectionate."

A heavy thud echoed from the street below, followed by the clatter of horseshoes on stone. Bayu froze, his hand dropping to his blade instinctively.

"What is that?" Galang asked, his smirk vanishing.

Bayu crossed to the window, pulling the shutter back a sliver. Below, a column of silver-clad soldiers rode into the square, their banners bearing the crest of the Royal Vanguard. At their head rode a man in polished plate armor, his face set in a permanent, ruthless sneer.

"Thorne," Bayu hissed. "General Thorne."

"The guy who put the price on my head?"

"And mine. He’s not here for a bounty, Galang. He’s cleaning house."

"They’re searching every building," Galang noted, his voice tight. "We’re trapped on the second floor."

"We can jump from the back," Bayu said, turning to grab his gear.

"And end up in the mud right in front of their perimeter? No. We play the game."

"What game?"

"The 'perfectly boring couple' game. If they come up here, they expect to find two men ready to fight. They won't expect to find us… occupied."

Bayu looked at the bed, then back at Galang. "You cannot be serious."

"You have a better idea? You want to try and fight a company of elite guards with a half-healed rib?"

The sound of boots pounding up the stairs vibrated through the floorboards.

"They’re in the hallway," Bayu whispered, his voice frantic.

Galang grabbed Bayu by the collar of his tunic and yanked him down, pushing him onto the edge of the bed.

"Sit. Look annoyed, or look busy, I don’t care. Just don’t reach for that sword unless I tell you to."

"Galang, if they walk in, I am going to—"

"Shh," Galang whispered, pressing a finger to Bayu’s lips. The tether flared bright, blinding white for a second as their heartbeats synced. "Let me do the talking."

The door burst open without a knock. General Thorne stepped into the room, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He scanned the small space, his eyes landing on the two men sitting on the bed.

Bayu felt his skin crawl. Thorne’s eyes were like chips of ice, searching for any sign of a lie.

"We’re looking for two fugitives," Thorne said, his voice flat. "A tracker and a thief."

Galang looked up, his expression one of bored, slightly irritated annoyance. "And you’re disturbing my husband’s nap, you arrogant oaf. Do we look like we’re interested in your military errands?"

Thorne took a step forward, his gaze lingering on Bayu. "You. You look familiar."

Bayu felt his breath hitch, his hand twitching near his hip.

"He’s a merchant, you idiot," Galang chimed in, leaning back and resting a hand on Bayu’s shoulder—an act that sent a shockwave of heat through the tether. "We’re headed to the capital for the trade festival. If you don't have a warrant for our specific names, get out of our room."

Thorne narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. He stopped inches away, staring into Bayu’s face. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"I know those eyes," Thorne murmured, reaching out to grab Bayu’s chin.

Bayu forced himself to remain calm, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at Thorne, then flicked his eyes toward Galang as if annoyed by the interruption.

"Are you done, General?" Bayu asked, his voice steady.

Thorne lingered for another second, then pulled his hand away, a sneer twisting his lips. "You’re a stubborn one. But the city is locked down. If you’re not the ones I’m looking for, you’ll have no trouble waiting until morning for clearance."

"Fine by me," Galang drawled. "We have nowhere to be."

Thorne turned to leave, his boots clicking on the floor. He paused at the doorway, looking back one last time. "Something about you two... it doesn't add up."

He vanished into the hallway, the heavy sound of his armor fading as he descended the stairs.

Bayu let out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding. "That was too close."

"You did good, darling," Galang whispered, his voice trembling just a fraction. He stood up, shaking. "They’re going to be watching the exits all night. We’re pinned."

Bayu moved to the door to bolt it, but he stopped dead. A man stood at the end of the hall, his face obscured by the shadow of the rafters. He wore the familiar garb of the guild—a cloak of gray, embroidered with a silver raven.

The man stepped into the light. It was Kaelen, the man who had trained Bayu in the trackers’ guild five years ago.

Kaelen’s eyes locked onto Bayu, his brow furrowing in shock. "Bayu? You’re supposed to be dead. The Vanguard said—"

Bayu felt his blood run cold.

"Kaelen," Bayu whispered, his hand hovering over his blade.

"I don’t know who that is," Galang said, his hand dropping to his daggers, "but he looks like he’s about to scream for the guards."

Kaelen’s gaze shifted to the glowing, violet tether on Bayu’s arm, then to the identical mark on Galang. His face paled.

"That's not just a bounty," Kaelen stammered, backing away. "The mark... Bayu, what have you done?"

"It’s not what it looks like," Bayu said, taking a step toward his former mentor.

"It’s a death sentence," Kaelen hissed, pointing his finger at them. "You’re the ones the Vanguard are hunting. The ones who broke the seals."

The door to the room across the hall opened, and a guard stepped out, his eyes widening as he saw Kaelen pointing at their room.

"Hey!" the guard shouted, drawing his sword. "Found them!"

The hallway exploded into chaos. Galang lunged for the door, slamming it shut and throwing the bolt.

"Bayu," Galang said, his voice cold and desperate. "We’re out of time. Are we running, or are we killing?"

Bayu drew his sword, the steel singing in the cramped, dim light. "We’re fighting."