Chapter 115: The Name They Already Chose
Chapter 114: The Name They Already Chose
The door to the Tallow and Tide closed with a dull, final thud.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Helen stepped in first, her boots quieter than usual against the worn wooden floor, though there was no effort in it—only the absence of her usual force. Brianna clung to her skirt, small fingers gripping the fabric tightly, her wide eyes still fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the tavern.
Olly followed behind them, slower than his usual easy stride, his shoulders set in a way that spoke of something heavy settling upon him.
The others trickled in after.
There was no laughter.
No muttered jokes.
No commentary on the chill outside or the state of the streets or what had been broadcast.
The tavern, so often alive even in its quieter hours, seemed to absorb that silence and hold it.
Helen moved behind the bar without a word. Her hands found their usual places—straightening a glass here, shifting a bottle there—but there was no rhythm to it. No purpose.
Brianna did not let go of her.
"Mama..." she whispered.
Helen did not respond immediately.
Her jaw tightened.
"I saw," she said at last, her voice low, rougher than usual. "I saw, Bri."
Brianna swallowed.
"That was Iria," she insisted softly, though there was no defiance in it now. Only certainty.
Helen exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Aye," she said. "It was."
The word settled into the room like something heavy.
Before anything more could be said, the door burst open again.
"Did ye—"
Jacob stopped short in the doorway, his voice catching as his gaze swept across the room.
They all looked at him.
And in that moment, he did not need to finish the question.
He already knew the answer.
Still, he asked it.
"...Did ye just see what was broadcast?"
"I need a drink," Olly said to Helen, ignoring Jacob.
His voice was flat, the usual teasing edge gone.
"Aye," Jacob muttered. "I need one too."
He moved further into the tavern, dragging a chair slightly as he passed, the legs scraping loudly against the floor in the otherwise quiet room. He leaned forward onto the bar, bracing his weight against it as he looked at Helen.
"Well?" he asked, attempting something like lightness and failing entirely. "Any chance ye might open early tonight?"
Helen raised an eyebrow.
Jacob gave a crooked smile.
"Seems to me we’ve got cause," he said. "Something worth celebratin’, don’t we?"
Olly’s head turned then, slowly.
He fixed him with a look.
"What," he asked, his voice low, "do we need to celebrate?"
Jacob blinked at him, as though the answer should have been obvious.
"What d’you mean, what?" he said. "We’ve got plenty."
Olly said nothing.
Jacob straightened slightly, his expression settling into something firmer.
"We celebrate the fact that Lyria’s a real princess," he said. "Not just ours anymore."
Olly’s jaw tightened.
He let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, if it had held any humor.
"Do ye even hear yourself?" he asked quietly.
Jacob frowned.
Olly shook his head.
"That’s what it means to you?" he said. "That she’s some grand thing now?"
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar.
"That she’s not just our Iria?"
Then he shook his head, muttering to himself. "It’s Lyria, not Iria."
Olly chuckled then, but there was no humor in the sound.
Jacob exhaled slowly.
"Her not being named Iria just means she’s part of the Selection," he said at last.
Olly’s eyes flicked to him.
"The Moon candidate," Jacob added. "That’s what it means."
Silence followed.
Then Jacob sighed.
"I know why ye look like that," he said, softer now.
Olly did not respond.
"I ain’t blind," Jacob continued. "I can see it plain."
He rested his hand on the bar, fingers tapping lightly against the wood.
"She’ll be in danger," he said. "That much is clear."
Brianna’s grip on Helen tightened.
Helen’s hand moved automatically, covering her daughter’s without looking.
"Surrounded by them," Jacob went on. "The royals. Their supporters. All them wolves with sharp teeth and sharper smiles."
His mouth twisted slightly.
"But she ain’t alone," he added.
Olly’s gaze lifted.
Jacob looked around the room.
"At least, she shouldn’t be," he said.
His voice grew firmer.
"Just days ago, we were all talkin’, weren’t we?" he continued. "About wantin’ a princess who’d understand us. One who’d see us proper."
A murmur stirred faintly.
"Aye," someone muttered.
Jacob nodded.
"Well," he said, "now we’ve got one."
The words echoed.
Helen’s head turned sharply.
"And ye think that’s enough?" she asked.
Her voice cut through the room like a blade.
Jacob looked at her.
"Do ye know what she goes through?" Helen demanded. "In that place? In their hands?"
Her accent thickened with every word, her control slipping just enough to show the force beneath it.
"It ain’t simple," she said. "It ain’t some story ye can sit and toast to."
Jacob did not flinch.
"I know it ain’t simple," he said.
Helen scoffed.
"Do ye?" she pressed.
"I do," he replied.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Don’t think I haven’t noticed," he added. "A girl like that... workin’ here? Hiding behind a mask?"
His gaze softened, just a fraction.
"Life weren’t easy for her," he said. "That much was clear long before tonight."
Helen’s jaw tightened.
But she did not interrupt.
Jacob exhaled.
"And I know this too," he continued. "She’s strong."
He gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the world beyond.
"Ye saw her up there," he said. "In front of all them nobles. All them wolves."
His voice lowered.
"She didn’t bow," he said. "She didn’t break."
Brianna looked up at that.
Jacob nodded once.
"And if she’s made it this far..." he went on, "if she’s survived all that..."
He straightened.
"Then she’s earned somethin’ from us."
He paused before speaking up again.
"She’s earned our support," he said simply. "Not our pity, not our worry that keeps us quiet."
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "If we’re to be anythin’ worth her time... we stand with her."
There was a weight to that.
A shift.
Something subtle, but real.
"And how do ye propose we do that?" Olly asked, though there was less bite in it now.
Jacob shrugged lightly.
"However we can," he said. "We watch. We listen. We speak when it matters."
His gaze moved across the room.
"We don’t turn our heads away."
Silence followed again.
But this time, it was different.
Less hollow.
More... thoughtful.
Olly stared at the bar for a long moment.
Then he let out a breath.
"The King ain’t said anythin’ yet," he muttered.
Jacob glanced at him.
Olly leaned back slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Ain’t said whether she’s joinin’ or not," he continued.
The smile grew just a little.
"But after what that Duke of Blackmere said..."
He huffed a quiet laugh.
"If the King don’t let her join," he said, "it’ll look real bad on him."
