Floor 1: Chapter Twelve - Duality

The late afternoon light draped across the clearing like a well-worn cloak. Shadows stretched long between the trees, and the air felt heavy, not with heat, but with the kind of stillness that follows a full morning of movement and adrenaline.

Most of the others had settled into their after-lunch haze. Dent lay somewhere in the grass, shirtless and content. Eshlyn had vanished with a book into a patch of greenery near the lake, her braid tossed over one shoulder. It was as if everyone had silently agreed to pause. To breathe. Just for a little.

My mind was fuzzy. I drifted through the motions as if I were a distant puppeteer. Not sure if I was following Val like a lost puppy or if he’d actually invited me. Either way, we stood together in the shaded ring beneath two broad-limbed trees.

Val stood a few paces ahead of me, rolling one shoulder back like he was resetting something deep beneath the surface. His training blade rested at his side. I knew it could easily knock the wind out of someone, even if it was only padded wood.

“Um… what are we doing again?” I asked after spacing out for an embarrassing amount of time.

“I told you I’d help with your swordsmanship,” he said, eyeing me blankly.

“Of course. You told me all about the techniques,” I lied. Vaguely remembered something over lunch, but I picked up the spare training blade anyway.

He took up that arrogant stance he always did. “Right. You’re decent with daggers, but your approach is a mess. Sloppy. You telegraph everything. Anyone trained could walk straight through you.”

Ugh. I wish I could smack that smug arrogance off his dumb face.

Still, I didn’t push back. Honestly, he could throw acid in my eyes and I’d call it progress. I deserved worse after what I’d done. What he'd seen me do.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m all yours.”

He raised an eyebrow as if I had said something surprising before drawing a faint line in the dirt with his heel.

“Start here. Stance first. Then strike a few patterns.”

Surprising or not, I almost knew what he meant.

It felt strange, being this close again. Not just physically, but rhythmically, talking plain like we hadn’t just spent a week dodging each other.

He circled slowly, watching the way I shifted my weight.

“You’re leading too much with your shoulders,” he said. Blunt, but not unkind. “It gives away your next move.”

I corrected, scowling slightly.

“And loosen your stance. You’re too rigid.” Another pass. “Your feet are too close together when you step in.”

Gods. I’m starting to remember why I used to hate him.

Jaw tight, I adjusted again. “You’re very chatty when I’m screwing up.”

“That’s because you’re always screwing up.”

I froze. Just for a second. Because I knew he wasn’t only talking about my form.

I shot him a look, half wounded, half ready to fight, but he didn’t look sorry.

“Don’t take it personally,” he added, stepping around my position. “I wouldn’t waste time on someone I didn’t care about.”

The words landed softly, too softly for Val. Like he circled the truth but refused to name it. I wasn’t used to him speaking in riddles. Or being honest.

My mouth opened to answer, but nothing came out.

“You’re dragging your back foot again,” he said before my voice could recover. “Step lighter. Let the front lead.”

I tried to bury the feeling and just follow instructions. “Like this?”

“Better,” he said, though his face stayed unreadable. No smile. Just focus.

He stepped in to match my movements with his own. It wasn’t a spar. More like a guided repetition. He walked me through footwork, angles, how to breathe with each strike. He was methodical, annoyingly so, but I appreciated it. Even if I hated how he picked apart every imperfection.

“Try again,” he said. “Weight forward, not down.”

I exhaled and swept my blade in a low arc, as if to force an opening.

He parried with lazy precision. “You’re still giving everything away with your shoulders.”

“Right,” I muttered, trying not to let my irritation show.

“And you’re thinking too much,” he added.

I shot him a sideways scowl. “Write a dissertation on my flaws, why don’t you?”

He actually huffed a small laugh. Just once. “I’d have plenty to write about.”

We circled again, training blades tapping in a slow, rhythmic conversation. He kept his distance, except when he stepped in to nudge my grip, fix my posture. Every little correction was a reminder of how close I wanted to be, but also how far away we really were.

“Where’d you learn all this, anyway?” I asked, not teasing, just curious.

He paused. Longer than I expected. Like the answer lived in a room he didn’t visit often.

“I grew up with a trainer,” he said finally. “He taught me everything I know.”

“Must have gotten close then?”

His jaw shifted. “Yes. He was more of a father than my own.”

“…Was?”

He nodded, barely.

“…Was.”

I let the quiet settle for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kept his stance. Steady. Guard up in more ways than one.

I caught myself staring, not at his form or his footwork. Just him. The set of his shoulders. The way the late sun caught the edge of his jaw.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“What?” he asked without pausing.

I blinked. “Nothing.”

“You’d fight better if your head wasn’t somewhere else. If something’s wrong, you should say it.”

There was a long beat of silence between us.

If only I had the courage. There was too much, all of it tangled, so I gave him a piece. Something small that I wasn’t even sure made sense.

“I don’t want to hit someone who cares about me,” I said quietly.

Val held my gaze. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

I didn’t respond, but I knew what he meant.

When our blades caught again, he stepped closer, not aggressive, not commanding. Just… close. Close enough to make me stare into his eyes. They reminded me of blue ice over an autumn sky.

The air caught in my throat.

His voice dropped lower. Gentle, but sure. “You’re not going to hurt me by swinging like you mean it,” he said. “You’ll hurt me by holding back.”

I lingered as long as he let me before pulling away.

The next round was quieter. Tighter. More honest.

He didn’t compliment me or harp on my mistakes, but he nodded once when I finally landed a clean strike past his guard.

And somehow, that meant more than words ever could.

---

                                                                                 ...

Light hummed gently as evening unfurled across the city. Lanterns flickered to life in doorways and windows, casting amber glows along the cobbled paths. Glowstones lit the streets in soft contrast to the clash of colors bleeding into the soon-to-be night sky.

Training had ended in quiet agreement, but no one was quite ready to part ways. So, dinner. Not simple pastries this time, not street food or rations. No, they wanted lovely. And Eshlyn knew all the lovely places.

Val seemed keen on dressing up for whatever reason, so Dent had vanished with him, presumably to acquire something less combat-ready and more fabric-forward. I could picture it, Val forcing him to browse silks and linens with laser focus. Dent would probably stand somewhere nearby, raising a skeptical eyebrow, possibly wondering if he’d shred it with a single shift.

The thought made me smile. It reminded me of my not-a-date dinner with Eshlyn not long ago. I needed a dress back then. Now I had one. Blue, elegant, mine. Not borrowed. Not returnable.

I tried slipping back to my fortress of solitude on the way over, but Eshlyn caught me halfway down the lane and looped her arm through mine.

“You deserve a proper shower,” she said firmly. “And you’re letting me braid your hair.”

We walked past quiet storefronts and flower-strewn balconies until we stood before the polished glass doors of her inn. The fancy one. The one with mood lighting, ivy-laced balconies, scented carpets, polished stones, and spirits that would open every door, lest the occupants dirty their precious fingers.

I hesitated out front. The place looked like it might charge me for breathing. “Are you sure about this? I got detained last time I walked through those doors.”

Eshlyn didn’t slow, just gave the hovering door-spirit a polite nod, then glanced back at me. “Don’t be such a grouch. I have two showers and an entire suite. Come on.”

What does that even mean, and what would she need two showers for?

I crossed my arms in protest. “Do they rain gold? If not, I have a tin bucket that works all the same.”

“You’ll just have to find out.” She stepped inside, graceful as always. “And I already told Val and Dent to meet us here.”

Ugh.

“Fine,” I said, moving towards the door.

The door-spirit arched a brow at me as I passed.

“Enjoy your stay, madam,” it said in a low, polite tone.

I met its spectral eyes with as much sass as I could muster. “Enjoy the door.”

I hate this place.

I caught up to Eshlyn, who was making her way up the marble staircase, “If we see Watch again, I’m running for the hills.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She said dismissively.

---

                                                                                 ...

The moment we stepped off the velvet-carpeted lift and into the suite floor, I realized I had made a mistake. The mistake that is giving me a glimpse into Eshlyn’s ridiculous lifestyle. I knew we led different lives, but I had no idea this level of absurd lavishness even existed.

Her room, no, her floor, unfolded like a private palace, all polished wood and gleaming glass. The entire space was scented with lavender and rosemary.

The walls weren’t quite solid, almost translucent, shifting with abstract colors and patterns like some indecisive artist who could not settle on a final palette. The rugs were thick enough to nap in, and the overhead lightstones responded to claps and voice cues like obedient little stars.

The main living space was open and chic, centered around a sunken sitting area rimmed in rich tapestries and cushions that made Eshlyn’s travel bedroll look like a beggar’s blanket. Towering arched windows stretched so high I could see the last bruised colors of sunset melting into the city’s edge.

Off to the right, an open door led into a sitting room easily twice the size of the bakery’s main floor. Through a few glass panels, I glimpsed a sprawling library with bookshelves so tall they needed curved ladders. A writing desk waited near the far window, something elegant and timeworn, the kind of desk you’d expect from a scholar who accidentally became royalty.

“You live here?” I asked, eyes wide, mouth agape. I tried shutting it, but it refused.

Eshlyn slipped off her shoes like it was expected. I did the same, cursing the crumbs of mud that scattered over the lavish wood.

“It’s temporary, of course,” she said, like that made any of this less obscene. “I do enjoy the decorations, and the view reminds me of three, so I’ve grown moderately fond of the place.”

I couldn’t help but remember her lavish bedroll offsetting the dusty room that we’d both stayed in for the last few days.

A breath caught somewhere between my ribs as I took in the chandelier. It was made of enchanted crystal that rotated slowly in a breeze that didn’t exist, producing sparkles of opalescent light like jewels in the sun. “Are all the rooms like this?”

She laughed like a poised princess in a ballroom, “No, I told you this is a suite.”

Fit for a princess.

She moved past me, tossing her braid over her shoulder with an effortless sort of grace. “You can take the washroom to your left. Towels are heated. Runes on the wall control the temperature. If you want herbal salts or incense diffused, just tap the glyph depicting a flower.”

I blinked. “You’re serious?”

She turned, giving me a wink before slipping into the bedroom to the right. “Try not to take too long. The boys will be here soon, and we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

She wasn’t wrong. I found the washroom tucked away between two equally lavish bedrooms. I immediately dubbed it a bathing sanctuary and nearly forgot I was supposed to be meeting people later.

Try not to take too long… How could I ever leave?

The walls were stone, polished so smooth I could see my reflection in them. They, unfortunately, reminded me of the lobby, but I tried to look past it. Multiple runes glowed when the flower-etched stone was pressed.

Having no indication of which did what, I chose one at random. Shelves of glass vials glimmered softly as if I should already know what they are used for.

The steam basin activated with a single tap, perfuming the air with a mix of herbs resembling sweet mint.

I stood still for a moment, hands on the edge of the ravine, just breathing. It was too nice. Too quiet. Too not mine. I wanted to enjoy it. I should have, and I did for the most part, but it still felt like I was going through the motions, not really connected, somehow.

Either way, I washed the dirt and guilt off my face, rinsed the remnants of earlier training from my hair, let the oils Eshlyn had mentioned swirl into the water, smoothing over my skin.

When I finally stepped out and into the adjacent bedroom, towel-dried and smelling like some herbal goddess. I picked up my blue dress off the white-linen adorned mattress, remembering the last time I wore it. That awkward evening of not-a-date energy, of feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere near elegance, near her, or where she stayed. The feeling lingered through the soft rug ruffling between my toes.

Oh my gods, this is wayy too much. Could she actually be royalty?

The dress’s fabric brushed my sides as I donned it before promptly jumping into the linens. The mattress curled around me as if the silk sheets would embrace me with every touch.

I didn’t know anything could be this soft.

I waited there, eyes closed, for what I thought was too long before forcing myself to get up. The mattress called to me like a lost lover when I eventually left for the main-room flat.

My bare feet pattered quietly across the cold hardwood floor.

The blue dress fit better than I remembered. The fabric hugged in the right places, loose where it needed to be. I hadn’t worn it since that first night. Somehow, it felt more like mine now.

The fading light pouring through the balcony windows shimmered off of me as if it’d cast a glow. My hair was still damp from the steam of the enchanted shower, curling slightly at the ends, a little wild but cleaner than ever.

I found Eshlyn standing by the arched bar nook, radiant in a deep green gown that shimmered like wet leaves under moonlight. The fabric hugged her waist and fell in soft, silken waves that pooled slightly at her bare feet. Her braid, now loosened and threaded with tiny glass beads, shimmered in the warm overhead light.

She was a vision, grace and danger braided into one. For a moment, I forgot how to walk. Or breathe. Or do anything useful with my limbs.

She turned as I entered, her eyes sweeping over me like a soft tide.

Her smile came easily. “Well, damn.”

I glanced down at myself, tugged at the hem. “Is that… good?”

“Good?” She crossed the room with feline grace and pressed one of the glasses into my hand. “You look like a secret someone would die to keep.”

I flushed a little and took a sip. It was cool, sharp, and vaguely floral. Something precious I didn’t recognize.

She motioned toward the balcony with a tilt of her chin. “Come on. You’ll view the city differently when you see it from up here.”

We stepped out into the early twilight, the city unfolding beneath us like a painted scroll. Rooftops and bridges and distant spires glinted in the last streaks of gold light. Somewhere far below, bells were chiming for the hour, and soft laughter rose from a courtyard we couldn’t see.

Eshlyn leaned her elbows on the balcony rail, letting the breeze catch a lock of her hair and tangle it in the city’s light.

I stood beside her, quiet for a long breath, sipping the drink and trying not to look as awestruck as I felt. The skyline sprawled like a painting, layers of gold, glass, and rooftops stitched into the low hues of sunset, but even that couldn’t compete with her.

She glanced over, head turning like a question and a dare. “That dress is adorable,” she said, her voice soft as silk.

“Stop making me blush,” I murmured, glancing away as a heat climbed in my throat.

Her gaze didn’t drift. It lingered, intentional, slow, warm like the sun resting on bare skin. She reached out, fingers grazing my chin as she tilted it toward her with infuriating ease.

“Not a chance,” she whispered, her breath close enough to count as contact.

My chest tightened as her eyes flicked to my lips, lingering for a second before rotating back.

I leaned in without thinking.

Then she pulled away, not cold, but deliberate. Her smile curved like a bowstring as she turned back toward the suite, leaving me speechless.

She spoke over her shoulder, “Let’s get you into something that’ll send those boys into a coma.”

I stared at her retreating form, heartbeat still tripping over itself before eventually laughing into my glass. “You mean my outfit is not expensive enough?”

She glanced back with a wink that could unlace corsets. “Exactly.”

---

                                                                                 ...

 

Eshlyn led me through a pair of carved double doors, revealing a closet that could’ve been mistaken for a boutique. Dresses hung in rows by color and occasion, each one finer than the last. Silk, velvet, gossamer, enchanted fabrics that shimmered faintly even in the low light. Gowns with backs that dipped like sighs, and sleeves embroidered with stones that shone like whispers.

Any one of these would be a dream to heist.

I stepped forward, fingers ghosting over a silver one that looked like it could melt into moonlight.

“These are all yours?” I spoke softly.

“Yes,” Eshlyn replied. “But most were gifts.”

Who in their right mind would gift something like this?

I held up a deep-red gown with a neckline that could kill a man at twenty paces. Then a gold one that glinted like the sun. Both hung perfectly from my fingers, elegant, opulent… undeniably better than the dress I wore.

But I set them gently back on their hangers.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” I said, smoothing a hand down the fabric of my own blue dress. “It feels more like me.”

Eshlyn didn’t argue. She simply crossed the room to a slender mirrored cabinet that opened with ease. Inside, nestled against dark velvet, were rows of necklaces and earrings, each shimmering delicately. She selected one without hesitation, a slim, ornate chain of twisted silver and emeralds that sparkled like a bottled forest.

“Then wear this,” she said, stepping behind me. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”

The cool metal kissed my collarbone as she fastened it, her fingers brushing the nape of my neck.

I tried not to shiver at the touch before deciding I should give her a taste of her own medicine.

I turned suddenly as she clasped the necklace around my neck, catching her off guard enough that she nearly gasped. But I didn’t let her.

I leaned in sharply, pressing my forehead against hers with maybe an inch of freedom, “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I voiced before shifting my eyes down, then back up to hers. I let the moment linger before slowly turning away to face the mirror.

Her reflection met mine as I moved to the side, meaning to lounge in the nearby chair, pausing just long enough to see the flush rise in her cheeks. “Weren’t you going to braid my hair?”

“Yes,” she murmured, finally reaching for a silver-handled brush, “...and you are not allowed to protest.”

“Don’t like the natural look I have going on?” I teased, fully leaning into the chair.

“Oh, I love it, but today we are going to show you off like the gem you are.” She moved in to brush her hands through my light waves.

Of course, I wouldn’t refuse.

Not when her hands moved so gently across my scalp. Not when her touch made me feel more like a person and less like something half-haunted.

Not when, for a moment, she made me forget how much I hated myself.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The last glimmer of sunset brushed the top of the windows like a fading memory, casting the suite in deep gold and soft plum. Eshlyn stood behind me, her fingers deftly weaving the last twist of a loose braid. A few strands had been left artfully curled to frame my face.

I didn’t know what she’d done exactly, but I looked like someone who had their life together. Or at least someone who could pretend very convincingly.

“Done,” she said, securing the braid with a slim pin shaped like a leaf. “Now don’t touch it unless you’re prepared to start from scratch.”

I turned my head slightly to glare at her. “No promises.”

Eshlyn clicked her tongue in mock warning, just as a knock echoed from the door across the suite.

“That’ll be them.” She glided toward the entrance like the hostess of a royal banquet, her green gown shifting with a gentle rustle, catching the light with every step.

The emerald necklace rested cool against my collarbone, subtle but grounding. I wasn’t sure I believed it, but tonight I’d try to be present.

Eshlyn swung the door open, and there they were.

Dent stepped in first, a charming mess of wild and polished. His shirt was a light tan color, a few buttons undone at the top. Sleeves rolled just below the elbow, revealing forearms that you'd never guess to have spent the day rummaging through the dirt. His trousers were a darker brown that reminded me of tree bark. Hair loosely tied back, barely contained. He looked like a forest spirit. Perfectly woodsy.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, then immediately blinked as Val followed.

Val was sharp edges and soft restraint, like a sculpture carved in ice.

He wore a black dress shirt that fit like it was tailored; it probably was. An icy-light-blue vest, paired with it.

His vest caught the gold in the room and somehow reflected it to mirror the color of his eyes. His sleeves were rolled with precision, his dark hair combed and parted just enough to look intentional.

His entire presence felt distilled, deliberate, like a breath held for just a moment too long.

He paused when he saw me. Just… paused. Like the world took a half-second off.

“Wow,” I said before I could stop myself, the word escaping on a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Val blinked once, “You look…”

He paused, glanced down for a beat, then met my eyes again. I almost thought he might not finish the sentence, “...very nice, all things considered.”

I tried not to roll my eyes or continue staring, but I didn’t know where to look. “I guess you clean up… fine, as well.”

Dent gave an exaggerated bow to Eshlyn. “Both of you are absolutely stunning this evening. Val and I could never compare.”

Eshlyn smiled, her eyes sweeping over them both. “Nonsense. You are all very pretty tonight.”

Whose idea was it to get all dressed up again?

I stepped forward, giving Dent a welcoming hug. My hands curled awkwardly at my sides as I approached Val, but they eventually conceded to the quick but gentle embrace.

“So… dinner?” I voiced to fill the air.

Eshlyn nodded toward the lengthy flat behind us. “Come sit, the servers will be here shortly.”

We stepped down into the sunken lounge, where rich tapestries draped the walls and cast jewel-toned shadows over the floor.

Just as I was lowering myself onto one of the cushions, three spirit-servers glided through the doorway, silent as starlight, trays floating between them. They paused in perfect formation, then, like a well-rehearsed performance, lifted polished domes to unveil a feast so poised it looked conjured from a dream.

Roasted roots, vegetables glistening with herbs and oil, sweet-braised meat with citrus glaze, flatbreads puffed and golden, bowls of spiced rice that smelled like cloves and warmth. The second tray followed, depositing pitchers of fruit-infused wine, water chilled with mint leaves, and a decanter of dark, syrupy cordial, thick enough to coat a spoon.

No staff lingered. Of course they didn’t. It seemed like Eshlyn could demand anything, and she simply asked for privacy.

Dent was the first to break the reverent silence.

He sprawled onto one of the floor cushions with a pleased grunt after filling his plate. “First time I’ve eaten inside a tapestry fort.”

Eshlyn, ever composed as she poured wine, a glass for everyone. “I don’t suppose you would prefer a hammock and a campfire? Though the floor does suit you.”

Dent grinned. “Tough to beat the soft allure of dirt, but this is still comfy and the cushions smell like citrus.”

Eshlyn rolled her eyes and passed him a glass of wine. “I figured you would like that.”

I was surprised when Val sat beside me. His legs folded neatly, one arm draped across the edge of a cushion like he belonged there, like this was easy. He glanced out the window as the city dipped further into gold and blue.

“At least the sun’s finally setting at a reasonable hour,” he murmured, like he was talking to the dusk itself.

Perfect, let's talk about the weather then. I thought sarcastically.

“You sound personally victimized by the daylight.”

“I am,” he said flatly and without missing a beat.

“What else is on your hit list lately?”

“I’ll have to draft you a report.”

“Oh, how thorough. Will it be annotated?”

“Categorized by intensity of offense.”

I took a slow sip, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Long list, then?”

He finally looked at me. “What do you think?”

I smirked behind my glass. The close awkwardness was wearing off, and I found myself happy to have him beside me again.

I took my first bite of glazed poultry, a bit behind the rest. I figured it would be good, but I could never have expected the flavors that hit me. The taste was indescribable.

There were soft breads with crisp edges, vegetables roasted to perfection, and enough seasoning that even Dent commented on it: “These spirits had to have gone to culinary school.”

I spoke up in conjunction, “School? I figure they were all tower-renowned chefs in their past life.”

Eshlyn chimed in from across from me, “Please, you all are just being dramatic.”

Surely she doesn’t actually mean that.

Between mouthfuls, Eshlyn and Dent launched into another of their ongoing debates. I was just happy they were filling the silence.

Tonight’s topic, the origin of the word aether.

“There need not be any confusion, the word absolutely comes from the celestial rites of the original channelers,” Eshlyn said, swirling her wine in slow, practiced motions. “The earliest documented usage links directly to pre-ascension rituals.”

Dent snorted. “That’s just the scholarly version. Druids used aether long before that. It meant ‘skyfire’ back then. Magic from the storms.”

“Do you believe it was co-opted, then?” Eshlyn placed one leg over the other.

“Everything gets co-opted eventually,” Dent said from his spot on the floor.

Val, with perfect dryness, cut in, “I’m just impressed you found something to bicker about before the bread cooled.”

I nearly choked on a laugh before adding. “I can't tell if they hate or love each other.”

“My bets on the latter.” He smirked at me.

“Oh, please,” Eshlyn retorted lightly, “there are many forms of love. Romanic, brotherly, neighborly.”

“Sensual,” Val added, which prompted a chuckle from me.

“Not everyone covers their feelings with sarcasm and forced disdain.” He shot at me and Val.

The statement hurt more than I thought it would.

Eshlyn cut in as well, “Good point, and not everyone fancies a romantic connection everywhere they go.” She gazed at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

Val met my eyes then, just for a breath. I’d already caught his glance a few times by now, but tried not to think anything of it.

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes at Eshlyn before letting them go on, now attempting to ignore them.

“You look nice tonight,” I said to Val, trying not to make a thing of it, but also... maybe making it a little bit of a thing.

“You said that already,” he replied, a faint smile threatening to lift the corners of his mouth.

“I suppose I meant it then,” I said more boldly than I thought I could.

Val studied me for a moment before responding. “So do you. I didn’t know you owned something that wasn’t ripped up or cluttered with buckles.”

I raised a brow. “You say that like you didn’t use to spend half your time covered in blood and dirt.”

“Used to?” he shot back with a layer of snarkiness.

I tilted my head toward his vest. “So, did you steal that, or loot it off a corpse?”

He smirked. “Both are possible, but you'll get no answers out of me. Besides, I could ask you the same.”

We eyed each other, in mocking-suspision, before breaking into soft laughter, the kind that eased something tight between us like fabric loosening at the seams.

And just like that, the walls lowered. Not all the way, but enough for some warmth to fill the air between us.

“Where are you staying now?” I asked. “Still slumming it at Durnan’s?”

“No. Actually, that whole place is up for sale now, so I found a spot on the east side. Single room, rune-etched washroom. Cozy, tolerable. Obviously nothing like this,” he added, with a sweeping glance at the glowing archways and velvet-draped elegance around us.

I nodded. “Hmm, honestly, that sounds nice… normal. I could use some of that nowadays.”

He arched a brow, gaze drifting to the braid Eshlyn had styled, maybe even to the emerald necklace hanging warmly against my throat. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t start,” I warned, nudging him lightly with my foot. “Yours was the first suite I ever stayed in, remember?”

“That was not a suite. This is a suite.” He gestured upward. “That was more of… a hideout with plumbing.”

“Still counts in my book, and you’re never seeing my room above the bakery.”

“Oh, now I have to.”

“Nope. Off-limits. Lest I combust from shame.”

“That bad?”

“You’ll never know.”

We laughed again, quieter this time.

He lifted his cup, allowing me to top it off with the pitcher of wine.

I couldn’t tell if things were mending between us, or if it was just the wine loosening the air, but I was glad for it either way.

Somewhere in the background, Eshlyn and Dent were still bickering cheerfully about terminology and regional dialect drift in spellcasting theory. At one point, Dent grabbed a breadstick and used it to make a very serious point. Eshlyn responded by charming it to float away mid-sentence.

They were ridiculous. Warm. Alive.

I looked around the low table, at Dent, half-curled into his cushion, still managing to look like a forest god who had accidentally learned to use cutlery. At Eshlyn, glowing in green silk and amber light, rolling her eyes with so much affection it nearly hurt. At Val, who was shifting subtly towards me, enjoying the banter just as much as I was.

They were laughing, eating, drinking. This whole scene was surreal. Too perfect.

It should feel good. So why did my chest still ache?

I sipped my wine, let the taste settle. Let the quiet stretch. Then glanced up, straight into Val’s eyes.

He was watching me again. Not intensely. Not like I was about to break. Just looking. Like he saw something even I didn’t. Like he always had. I fought the urge to look away.

He didn’t smile. Neither did I. But something flickered there between us, softer than breath, sharp enough to cut.

I looked away, just slightly. He did the same. It felt as if I’d unravel if I held his gaze too long. Still, the moment lingered like a promise we weren’t ready to make.

The last glimmer of sunset brushed the tops of the windows like a fading memory, casting the suite in deep gold and soft plum. Eshlyn sat nestled against a cushion across from me, sipping from her wine glass with the kind of languid charm that suggested she’d been born for nights like this.

Dent, somehow both out of place and perfectly at home, reclined on his side, legs stretched out with a cushion wedged under his elbow. His shirt was rumpled, his hair loosened further than it had been at the door.

Val had barely moved from his spot a few inches from mine. Sharp in his clean lines, quiet in his posture, solid and still, like a weight in the sand. His gaze flicked to each of us in turns, never lingering too long. Never too far from my own.

Dinner had turned into drinks, drinks into desserts, and now the room hummed with the kind of tired comfort that followed good food and warmer company. At some point, all of us made it down to the floor cushions, nearly matching Dent’s style.

Dent stretched and let out a yawn that was more wolf than man. “Alright, I am two glasses from shifting into something with paws and passing out on the ceiling.” He stood slowly and gave a lazy wave toward the rest of us. “I’m calling it.”

Eshlyn, the only one who hadn't made it fully to the floor, stood as well, smoothing the folds of her gown. “That’s probably wise. I have a report to finish anyway. You are all more than welcome to stay the night. There is room enough for everyone.”

“That's an understatement,” I muttered to no response.

“Don't mind if I do.” Dent was already halfway to the door of a guest room. “If I step into the street, I'll shift these trousers to ribbons.”

Eshlyn leaned over to press a soft kiss to my temple. “You were exquisite tonight, you know.”

I smiled, but couldn’t quite respond before she drifted off with a faint rustle of fabric and a final glance between me and Val. I couldn’t tell if she was headed to her room or the library, but I didn’t linger on the thought.

Then it was just us.

The absence of their voices left the suite quieter than I expected. The night air was still, not heavy. Just… still. The breeze from the windows curled around the edge of the room, brushing over the last flickers of low light and the empty glasses left behind.

Val hadn’t moved yet.

My legs folded out onto the cushioned floor, letting the plush fabric fold around my side, the scent of jasmine clinging in the air between us.

“You’re quiet,” I said, not really meaning it as a prompt. Just… saying something.

“So are you,” he replied, voice even, but not cold.

I shrugged, curling my fingers around the rim of my empty glass before setting it down. “Getting tired?”

His mouth tugged into the ghost of a smile. “Nah, I’m not even that drunk.”

I nodded, eyes drifting to the slow swirl of light against the far wall. “Well, that makes one of us then.”

“It's nice to see you enjoy yourself,” he said in quiet contemplation.

A pause stretched between us. Not tense. Just full. Full of everything unsaid.

I leaned in, half-curled on the cushions, my weight sinking toward him. “You’re different like this.”

He tilted his head, mirroring me, brow lifting slightly.

“In that shirt. Your hair actually brushed,” I added. “You just seem… different.”

“Different?” he echoed, slightly amused.

“In a good way,” I said, then caught myself smiling. “Less sword-for-hire, more brooding poet.”

He scoffed, but quietly. “And here I thought I looked intimidating.”

“Let's see… normally, you have the intimidation level of a house cat, and now you’re more like a cricket.” I teased, making myself laugh more than anyone else had all night.

He watched me for a moment. “I missed that.”

The honesty in his voice was quiet, but it echoed in my ears.

“I missed you,” I said, softer still.

Regret set in as the words left my mouth. I didn’t mean to, but something was drawing the honesty from my lips.

“I didn’t mean… ” I whispered without knowing how to end the sentence.

Our eyes held. The city breathed beyond the glass, but I barely noticed. Somewhere in that silence, our knees brushed. My hand found his side in the dim darkness.

“I… ” I tried to make sense of it all, my voice lower than a whisper.

Val didn’t answer. Not with words.

He leaned forward, slowly, his gaze locked with mine. My heart began to race as his eyes grew close. Then there was darkness.

I felt him through the veil, his breath, his heat, his soft lips as they pressed into mine. No rush, no urgency. Just a quiet ache giving way to butterflies, like a tremble of something old and new all at once.

His hand found my jaw like he wasn’t sure I’d let him, like if we broke apart, the spell would end. It felt like a gift neither of us had earned, but still, I stayed. My hands drifted toward his collar, pushing through to cradle the back of his neck between my arms. I pulled him in as if he'd disappear.

When we broke apart, he didn’t pull away completely. I still held onto him, and him me. I could see a small light in his eyes before mine closed again. Our lips parting slightly.

I leaned back, lazily pulling him over me in our embrace.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel anything but the sparks on my lips and the rise of his chest on mine.

He pulled back slightly, but I leaned in to catch him, tugging him close, reluctant to let the warmth fade, chasing the imprint still buzzing on my skin.

Our breath mingled as he paused, resting his forehead against mine. I let my arms lazily loosen from around his neck as he stared.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, breath warm on my neck.

My voice cracked slightly, “...Why not?”

“I want to. Gods, you have no idea how much I want to… but not like this. We've been drinking, maybe you more than me. We're both hurting. I don't want to take advantage of that.”

I felt the ache return, swift and crushing, but I knew he was right, like always.

“Is it because of… You know… what I did?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“No,” he said, voice firm. “...It’s because I care about you.”

He leaned back slowly, the space between us suddenly vast again. “I care about you, Remy. I'm done pretending that I don't.”

I wanted to say something, anything, but nothing fit the shape of the moment. Just air and ache.

“Could I…” I started, then faltered. “Could I maybe just rest my head on you for a bit?”

His answer came quick but soft, like handling a flower before it would wilt.

“Of course.”

I curled into the space beside him, letting my cheek rest against the soft lines of his vest. My eyes closed as I felt him exhale, steady and warm.

The silence settled again, but this time, it didn’t hurt. Not entirely.

I didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

The world could unravel tomorrow.

But tonight, under the hum of light and the echo of something almost whole.

I let myself breathe.