Chapter 27 - A Little Closer Than Before
The weekend light filtered through the gauzy curtains in long, lazy bands, golden and soft where it touched the floor. Alena’s cottage was still, save for the rhythmic bubbling of the kettle and the quiet shuffle of her slippers against the wood. She liked mornings like this. No deliveries. No scrolls waiting in urgent piles. Just her, the scent of tea leaves, and the sunlight warming her little shelf of books.
She had started the morning with her usual routine: boil the water, trim the leaves from her window plants, light the same lemongrass candle she always lit when she wanted to feel more like herself. The one that reminded her of quiet summer nights and her father’s laugh. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in days, but she wasn’t going to think about that.
She selected a new novel from the modest stack by her armchair — a romance, of course. Something with a brooding elven historian and a sassy apothecary who kept leaving healing salves on his doorstep. She hadn’t read it yet, but the premise had made her smile. The first few pages were promising, but she found her thoughts drifting.
Not to the book.
To the stars.
Specifically, the rooftop of Inkwyrm & Co., two nights ago, when she’d stayed a little longer than she usually did.
Devon had invited her to stargaze. He said it casually, as if it was just something he did now and then after closing, but when they’d stepped onto the balcony above the tower, she realized it was a place that mattered to him. There had been three mismatched chairs clustered around an ashtray on the balcony. Alena had glanced at them, amused by the lack of symmetry. Devon noticed.
"That’s where the boys and I sit in the summer months," he said with a small smile. "Gideon and Caelan. They come by after shifts sometimes. We smoke too much, talk nonsense, and argue about who's worse at rock climbing. We stargaze a lot out here when it’s warm."
She had nodded, unsure why that detail made something flutter warmly in her chest. They had stood by the railing then, looking out at the night.
"This is one of the best places in the city for it," he said, voice low, eyes on the stars. "At least, from the parts I’ve seen. Not many buildings out this far. The light dies faster."
She had asked something about the constellations, and he told her how he used to stargaze back at Morgrave.
"Didn’t care for it at first," he admitted. "Too many people trying to make meaning out of dots. But the longer I stayed, the more I started to like it. There’s something honest about it. Even if you can’t make sense of it, it just... keeps shining."
Alena surprised herself by speaking more than usual that night. She told him about her studies, how she’d gone to Thalingrove College, a quiet little university in Varnhurst, the next major city south of Korth. Not a famous one, but respected for the humanities. She had studied literature and classical languages, and for a while, thought she might end up in a library or classroom.
Devon had glanced sideways at her then, curious. "And yet, courier."
She shrugged. "Personal preference."
He didn’t push. Instead, he had paused, watching the stars.
"I think it’s good," he said. "Choosing something for yourself, I mean. Whatever the reason. People don’t give that enough credit."
Alena had gone quiet. There was a stillness in her chest that hadn’t been there before. A quiet understanding she hadn’t expected.
"If it’s something you chose," Devon continued, "then I’m glad. That matters more than what people expect from you."
She didn’t know what to say to that. Only that the words had nestled somewhere deep inside, like a warmth she hadn’t realized she needed.
Now, on the tram, Alena smiled quietly to herself. Her fingers played with the edge of her satchel as the city passed by in slow, rhythmic turns. She had her new book tucked safely inside, along with the pressed violet marking her place in Hearts Entwined, and a scroll she didn’t actually need to read again but brought along anyway. Just in case she needed a reason to linger. She glanced at the reflection of her own face in the tram’s window.
"I wonder what he’ll be wearing today," she muttered, barely above a whisper, then immediately flushed.
It sounded ridiculous. But she couldn’t help it. There was something quietly addictive about the way Devon always looked so effortlessly composed. Tattoos visible, sleeves rolled up, collar a little rumpled. Like he lived on the edge of some charming daydream and didn’t even know it. She tucked her hands into her lap and looked down, pretending not to notice her own smile.
Maybe he’d ask what book she was reading today. Maybe he’d notice something. Anything. She didn’t need it to mean anything. She just hoped that he notices her again.
The café was quiet again. Not empty, but quiet in the way Alena liked best. Pages turned softly, chairs were only half-occupied, and the occasional chime of ceramic against wood marked the flow of slow, comforting time. The scent of spiced black tea lingered in the air, warm and grounding. She stood near the counter, scroll in hand, waiting as Devon prepared her usual. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing the runic tattoos that curled along his forearms, shifting faintly in the lamplight. Alena tried not to stare, but she really liked seeing them. There was something about the combination of sharp runes and quiet elegance that made her brain short-circuit a little. It was that bad-boy look she’d only ever read about in books. Except Devon was all good-boy (or at least she hopes so) underneath, which somehow made it worse. Or better. Probably worse. Definitely better. He moved with the ease of someone used to quiet hours and his own company.
"You’ve got something," he said, glancing up.
Alena blinked. "What?"
He gave a small nod toward her. "In your hair."
Immediately, her hand flew up to her temple. "Where?"
"Left side. No, other side."
She tried again, brushing awkwardly at the straight strands near her ear, fingers not quite sure where to aim.
"Did I get it?"
Devon didn’t answer. By the time she reached up a third time, he had already stepped around the counter. As she reached for the spot again, his hand moved lightly through the air and their fingers brushed. Brief, featherlight. He plucked a small leaf from just above her ear without comment and held it up between two fingers.
"Here."
He placed it in her palm with the same calm ease he used for passing over a book or a teacup.
"Evidence removed," he said, and then gave her a slight smile. The kind that tilted just enough to be charming, but not enough to suggest he was trying. The kind that lingered only for a moment.
"You may now rejoin polite society."
Alena stared at the leaf, her heartbeat absolutely unreasonable for such a small thing.
She gave the faintest nod. "Thank you."
Devon was already behind the counter again, pouring her tea like nothing unusual had happened. She moved to the window seat as always, her usual drink in hand, but her thoughts refused to follow their routine. That slight touch. That smile. That brief, offhand gesture. It was nothing to him. She knew that. But to her, it was the kind of moment she read about in her favourite stories. The kind of touch that made the world go quiet. The kind that came just before something bloomed.
She looked down at the leaf still resting in her palm, then tucked it carefully between the pages of her notebook.
The door opened with a soft chime. Alena didn’t look up at first. She assumed it was another visitor dropping in for tea or a quiet hour with a book. But then she heard Devon’s voice, and it was different. Warmer, lighter, almost cheerful.
“Neia,” he called. “Good timing. I need someone to taste-test this travesty before I try to sell it.”
“I told you, three pinches of cinnamon is not subtle,” came the laughing reply.
Alena glanced up. The woman was light on her feet, sun-touched in a way that didn’t seem to come from the light outside. Her long brown hair was tied back, her cheeks flushed with a natural brightness. She walked straight up to the counter and leaned against it with easy familiarity, like she belonged there.
Devon was grinning. Not smirking, not quietly amused like usual. Actually grinning.
“I’ll have you know it’s called ‘inventive layering,’” he said. “Morgrave would’ve given me a medal.”
Neia scoffed. “They would’ve given you a citation.”
Alena blinked. She had never seen him like this. The Devon she knew was calm, composed, quietly charming. But this Devon was animated, teasing, completely at ease. And the worst part was, it suited him. She looked back down at her tea, trying not to let her thoughts show on her face, and telling herself there’s nothing to be jealous about.
“So,” Devon said, changing the subject with that too-innocent tone. “Gideon’s back at work now isn’t he.”
Neia lifted her chin, smiling gently. “He is.”
“I’m glad he’s recovered enough to be going to your place couple nights back,” he says, with a devilish smirk on his face.
“Excuse me, we only had dinner,” she said. Then, carefully, “At his place.”
Alena froze, just for a moment. Her nosiness getting the better of her.
Neia continued, just a little too quickly. “Then he walked me home. That’s all.”
Devon reached for the honey jar with deliberate slowness. “Mm. So…”
“So what?”
He looked far too pleased with himself. “Made any progress?”
Neia groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“But?”
She covered her face with her hand. “Yes. Maybe. A little. Gods you’re nosey, Ashborn.”
Devon gasped, delighted. “I knew it. Gideon Thorne, you emotionally stunted legend.”
Neia laughed and swatted at his arm. “Stop it. He’s trying.”
“Oh, I believe it. You’re practically glowing. From ’just dinner’.”
“I am not.”
“Neia. Please.”
They both laughed again, this time softer. There was something warm in it. Familiar. Alena had watched the whole exchange from her seat by the window, notebook now closed, tea cooling beside her. She wasn’t usually the jealous sort. But something about their ease with each other, the comfort in their teasing, it left a quiet ache she didn’t quite know what to do with. Then Devon turned and spotted her.
“Oh, Alena,” he said brightly, waving her over. “Come join us, will you? You should meet Neia.”
She hesitated only a moment before rising, her fingers brushing over the cover of her notebook. The little leaf was still safely tucked inside. She carried her tea to the counter, wondering as she approached if she was intruding on something.
“Hi,” Neia said warmly. “Sorry for the noise. Devon gets like this when he’s craving for tea, and not the drinkable kind.”
Alena gave a soft smile. “It’s alright. I’m Alena. Alena Morran.”
“She’s a courier with Arkwright Dispatch,” Devon said, with an easy gesture toward her. “And also my go-to translator when the older scrolls get a bit too complicated to read. She’s saved my life more than once, I’m fairly certain.”
Alena shook her head. “Only the badly formatted ones.”
“Nice to meet you,” Neia said warmly.
Alena gave a polite nod and took the seat beside them, listening as their conversation wound back into easy chatter. She sat quietly, unsure of how to slip into the rhythm, though she wanted to. She hadn’t made any close friends in Korth. Not the kind you shared little things with. She wanted to speak up. Ask something. Say anything. But her voice didn’t quite catch.
Neia glanced at the time and stood with a soft sigh. “I should get going. The groceries aren’t going to buy themselves.”
Alena nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. She was disappointed, just a little. She had hoped they might talk more. That maybe Neia would say something first. Then Neia turned back to her.
“It was really nice meeting you, Alena,” she said, voice lighter. “If you don’t mind, would you want to exchange crystalink details? We could hang out sometime. Just the girls. No nosey ol’ Devon.” She gave Devon a scrunched-up face as she said it, and he responded by doing the same back at her without hesitation. “Rude.”
Alena blinked, caught off guard. “I’d like that.”
They exchanged contact info, and Neia offered one last wave before heading for the door.
“See you around, future Mrs. Thorne,” Devon called after her.
Neia didn’t look back, but her ears had gone visibly red.
Alena sat very still, heart still settling, but she felt it. A quiet happiness blooming in her chest. She hadn’t expected today to feel like much of anything. But maybe, just maybe, she had made a new friend. She stood and gathered her things, sliding her notebook back into her satchel and reaching for her now-empty cup.
“Thank you for the tea,” she said softly.
Devon looked up from the counter. “Of course. Take care, Alena.”
His voice held the same calm cadence as always, but his expression had shifted. His smile was warmer, his eyes a little more present. Friendly in a way that made her chest flutter before she could stop it.
She nodded once, then turned to leave.
And as she stepped out into the cooling air, with the leaf pressed safely between her pages and something small tugging gently at the corners of her heart, she thought that maybe today had been a beginning after all.