Lillyth woke first. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and hazy, spilling across the room in pale gold. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming. The warmth pressed against her side, heavy and grounding, told her otherwise.

  Aeyona’s arm draped across her chest. Soft fingers brushing just at the edge of her collarbone. Each caress a tender kiss of lightning down her body.

  Lillyth’s own arm rested lightly against the curve of the elf’s waist, unconsciously seeking the warmth. With her hand trailing the spine of Aeyona's lower back.

  The rise and fall of Aeyona’s breath pressed gently against her neck. Each exhale a soft caress she wasn’t ready to part with.

  Their legs were tangled in the sheets, feet intertwined in a dance of warmth and softness. Together in a knot of proximity that made her chest thrum with comfort and nerves alike.

  Even the faint scent of Aeyona’s hair lingered. Earthy and green with hints of the forest, brushing against Lillyth’s cheek when she shifted slightly. Her pulse quickened, a quiet awareness that every movement mattered.

  She had nearly forgotten they were still strangers.

  She froze, suspended in the moment. Caught between the surprising comfort of the closeness and the urgent need to pull away.

  Aeyona stirred, eyes fluttering open. First a soft smile curled on her face, followed by confusion.

  The realization hit her like a small jolt. Her hand jerked back, accidentally pulling a few of Lillyth's hairs with it.

  “Ow..” Lillyth said softly. Then she sat up in bed. The blanket slipped to the floor with a soft rustle.

  “Sorry!” she whispered, voice soft but exploding with surprise. Her cheeks flushed pink, ears tipped with color as she tugged at her tunic in a nervous rush.

  Lillyth’s own face burned hot, though she forced her voice soft. “No, you're fine. It's fine,” she stuttered.

  The absence of Aeyona’s warmth left a cold hollow in the sheets, a quiet reminder of what had been, however briefly.

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  Marvel, perched on the chair by the window, stretched with a long yawn and a mischievous grin. “How do you two manage to snuggle so close and still take up the whole bed?”

  The words landed like a splash of cold water. Lillyth and Aeyona scrambled for their clothes. Fumbling awkwardly in the sheets. Limbs brushing to untangle. Hearts hammering without even being sure why.

  Every glance flicked away too quickly, every movement slightly off-balance, as though aware someone could see the tension that lingered even as their skin parted.

  “Breakfast?” Aeyona muttered, voice thin and hesitant.

  “Yes. Breakfast,” Lillyth replied too quickly, the words rushing from her lips before thought could temper them.

  Marvel laughed her way to the door. The golden sunlight spread across the floor, but the warmth between them lingered, quiet and electric, held in their shared breaths, flushed cheeks, and the brush of hands as they gathered themselves.

  Horren stumbled up the stairs as they scrambled down. He looked at them groggily. Their disheveled clothes and tangled hair.

  Usual.

  Their sudden morning anxiety? Less so.

  He chuckled under his breath.

  Across the hall, Alkibiades opened his eyes to the feeling of something prodding his rear end. He jumped out of bed.

  “Hey there..” He stopped, hands raised. Confusion in his groggy eyes.

  Malastare’s side of the bed was empty, sheets neatly folded as if no one had slept there at all. A slip of parchment lay where his head should have been.

  “Gone to find answers. I may be back.”

  Al read it twice, then a third time. His eyes caught on the word “may” until it stuck like a thorn. He dropped the note and found a scroll tucked beside it, the wax seal cracked and half-broken. The imprint was unfamiliar, jagged, unsettling.

  He stared at it until a voice broke the silence.

  “Guess he wasn’t into you.”

  Horren wandered in, smelling of last night’s smoke and ale. His eyes were bleary, but the grin was steady as ever.

  Al groaned. “Not the time.”

  “If it helps, you’re not my type either,” Horren said, collapsing onto the empty bed.

  Al sat forward, dragging a hand over his face. “You disappear all night and this is what you come back with?”

  “I disappeared to the bar,” Horren said. “Paid for the rooms too, in case you forgot. Not cheap. Now my coin’s gone, Mal’s gone, and you still look like hell.”

  Al’s jaw tightened. “How much do we have left?”

  Horren turned his hands over, empty. “Not enough.”

  The room fell heavy. Al reached for the armor stacked beside his chair. Piece by piece he checked the fit, and piece by piece he set it back down. Too heavy for today. The steel would stay behind. He pulled on the black padded under-armor instead, the weight less than half but still familiar, like the echo of a shield he could not see.

  Finally he strapped on his belt, sliding the strange scroll into his pouch.

  “I’ll go to the church,” he said, voice firm. “This is exactly the sort of crisis we were meant to stand against. If they want to preach about purpose, they can start by helping.”

  Horren leaned back, arms folded across his chest. “Good luck. Priests hold tighter coin than barkeeps.”

  Al didn’t answer. He left with his shoulders square, though the absence of steel felt like a wound.

  Downstairs, Lillyth and Aeyona picked at their plates in silence. The tavern smelled of butter and smoke, filled with the morning clatter of spoons and the chatter of travelers starting their day. Marvel had found the end of the bench and was watching the room with restless eyes, her grin never far away.

  “You’re both awfully quiet,” she said.

  “We’re tired,” Aeyona muttered.

  Marvel smirked. “From what?”

  Lillyth shot her a glare. “Don’t.”

  The teasing slipped away as they noticed the stares. A soldier at the bar had glanced their way too many times. Two merchants whispered behind their mugs. The room did not feel hostile, but it was not friendly either.

  “Let’s see the city,” Lillyth said finally, pushing her plate away. “Better to know what’s outside than sit here waiting.”

  “Market first,” Marvel said, already on her feet. “I saw stalls on the way in. If there are sweets, I get first pick.”

  They left together, laughter following them only until the tavern door swung shut.

  Horren lingered in the shadows near the hearth. His bottle from the night before still called to him, but he ignored it this time. Instead he slipped out the side door into the alleys, where the city’s true face lived. The stones were wet, the air sharp, and the voices here carried fewer prayers and more secrets.