Chapter 29 - If You Ever Do That Again
The late afternoon sun spilled across the cobbled streets, casting long shadows from the iron balconies overhead. Korth had begun its slow drift into autumn, the air just crisp enough to warrant a scarf but not quite cold enough for layers. Alena had just finished her final delivery of the day when her crystalink chimed quietly in her satchel.
Neia’s name glowed on the screen, the message as casual as ever.
“Dinner? I’ve found a new place that does these wild rice dumplings I think you’d like.”
Alena read it twice, smiled, and replied that she only had one last scroll to drop off. As it turned out, the address wasn’t far from the restaurant Neia mentioned, somewhere in the quieter end of the town centre. They agreed to meet near the old watch post, and from there, walk together to the restaurant.
By the time Alena arrived, Neia was already waiting by the fountain, bundled lightly in a pumpkin-colored shawl, crystalink tucked back into her pocket.
“Perfect timing,” Neia said, linking her arm through Alena’s as they started walking.
“Where’s the last stop?”
“Just around the corner,” Alena replied. “One of the Defender’s Guild offices.”
Neia tilted her head. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been to that one.”
Alena shrugged. “It’s small. Probably just a satellite office.”
Neia smiled as they continued down the quiet street, the sounds of the city softening behind them.
The Defender's Guild satellite office was tucked neatly between a cobbler’s shop and an old marble fountain; its crest carved modestly into the dark stone above the door. Alena had passed it once or twice before, but never had reason to go in, until today. She paused outside, scroll in hand, waiting for Neia to catch up.
“It’s just in here,” Alena said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Quick drop-off, then we can head to dinner.”
Neia gave a theatrical sigh of relief. “Good. I’m starving. And if this place makes me fill out paperwork before they take your scroll, I swear I’ll faint right here on their floor.”
Alena laughed softly, pushing open the door. Inside, the air was cooler and smelled faintly of old parchment and leather. A receptionist sat behind a desk, flipping through files. A few guild officers passed quietly through the hall, each one moving with purpose. At the far end of the room, a tall man in a charcoal vest stood reviewing documents by a low shelf, his presence composed yet unmistakably authoritative.
Neia’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s Caelan.”
At first, Alena thought she had misheard. “Caelan?” she echoed.
Neia gave her a sidelong glance and a small, almost guilty smile. “Caelan Thorne. Head of Sentinel Affairs.”
He accepted the scroll with a nod. “Pleasure’s mine. Caelan Thorne.” Then, with the most casual ease, he added, “Neia’s future brother-in-law. Or so Devon says.”
Neia practically choked on her breath. “Caelan,” she hissed, face turning pink. “We’re not even dating.”
Caelan looked entirely unbothered. “Yet,” he said simply.
“Stop it,” she groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Honestly, I get enough of this from Devon and the girls. Don’t you start too.”
He smirked. “I’m only stating what everyone else is thinking.”
Alena blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity, while Neia muttered something unintelligible under her breath and shot Caelan a look that could only be described as sisterly betrayal.
Alena couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her. There was something easy about the way Neia and Caelan spoke to each other, a rhythm she couldn’t quite place but found herself drawn to. Still, she lingered a step behind, unsure whether she belonged in the moment or was simply passing through it.
Neia turned slightly, her voice warm. “We’re going to try that new riverside place for dinner. You’re welcome to come, if you’re not too busy.”
Caelan looked at her with a flicker of surprise, though not the kind that turned people away. “Now?”
“We’re heading over soon,” Neia replied. “After this.”
He glanced down at the files in his hand, considering. Then he folded them neatly under one arm. “I suppose I could use a proper meal.”
Neia smiled. “We’ll see you there, then.”
Alena gave a polite nod as they turned to go, and Caelan returned it with a quiet expression. Not quite a smile, but something close. As they stepped out into the evening light, she glanced back just once. He was still looking. Not intently, not meaningfully. Just observing. As if committing the moment to memory before the world resumed its usual pace.
The restaurant was charming in a quiet sort of way. It sat just along the riverside, its windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside, where gentle lantern light flickered across polished wood and cream-painted walls. Alena and Neia had taken a seat near the window, where they could see the soft glow of the river reflecting the last hues of dusk.
A message arrived just as they unfolded their menus. Neia glanced down at her crystalink and smiled faintly.
“It’s from Caelan,” she said. “He’s running a bit late, but he told us to go ahead and order.”
Alena gave a small nod and set her menu aside. “Do you see Gideon often? Since that night?”
Neia looked up, a little caught off guard, then let out a thoughtful breath. “No, not really. He’s just gone back to work, so I imagine he’s busy.” She paused, her fingers resting lightly against the base of her glass. “He’s probably trying to get back into routine. You know how he is.”
Alena nodded knowingly. “But you’ve been thinking about him.”
That earned a small, embarrassed smile. Neia didn’t deny it.
Alena leaned in, voice lowered just enough to invite something sweeter. “So... what do you like about him the most?”
Neia’s fingers fidgeted for a second with the edge of her napkin. “He’s shy.”
Alena blinked. “Really?”
“Mhm.” Neia's lips curved. “Around me, at least. He’s this highly respected figure. People straighten up when he walks into a room. But when we talk, he gets a bit flustered. He listens so carefully, like every word matters, and sometimes he forgets what to say. It’s... really endearing.”
Alena clasped her hands beneath her chin. “That’s adorable.”
“But,” Neia added, eyes glinting with mischief, “when he’s being calm and serious again... it’s actually kind of hot.”
Alena squealed, just a little. “Neia.”
Neia laughed and took a sip of water, her cheeks now softly tinged with pink.
Alena leaned in further. “What about the moment you told us before? The kitchen one. When he stood behind you?”
Neia bit back a laugh. “Oh gods. That.”
Alena sighed dramatically. “It sounded just like something from my novels. The brooding protector standing so close you can feel the tension. I’m still not over it.”
Neia laughed into her hand, then leaned in a little closer. “If Gideon ever does something like that again, which I seriously doubt because I’m pretty sure it took everything in him just to survive it the first time, I might just grab that cute baby face of his and kiss him first.”
She held up her hands and made a gentle cupping motion, miming how she would hold his cheeks, her grin turning downright mischievous. “Like this. No escape.” She laughed it off, saying, “I’m kiddi—”
Alena let out a soft gasp, eyes wide with delight. “Neia.”
Neia’s voice faltered as she noticed. “What?”
And then, a quiet throat-clearing behind her.
She turned slowly.
There stood Gideon, tall and unmistakably real, just a pace behind her chair. His expression was carefully composed, the kind of formal calm she’d seen him wear in guild meetings, but the red slowly blooming across his cheeks betrayed him entirely. Just behind him, Caelan stepped through the restaurant’s front door, looking mildly amused.
Neia blinked up at Gideon, entirely mortified. “Gideon. Hi. What are you...?”
He gave a respectful nod, trying with everything in him to appear unbothered. “Good evening. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Alena, who was barely containing her giggles, kept her lips pressed together in valiant silence. Neia sat up straighter, forcing a polite tone despite her skin feeling like it might combust. “What brings you to this part of town?”
“I got a message from Caelan,” he said, voice a touch stiff. “He said he was trying a new restaurant and asked if I wanted to join.”
Neia shot a look over Gideon’s shoulder. Caelan had just arrived at the table.
“I forgot to tell you I invited him,” Caelan said with the kind of innocence that didn’t fool anyone. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s... fine,” Neia replied, wishing desperately that time could rewind. “There’s plenty of room.”
Alena smiled and gestured to the space beside her, though it was Neia who spoke again, her voice gentle as she introduced them. “Alena, this is Gideon Thorne. Gideon, this is Alena Morran. She’s a friend.”
Alena stood just a little to offer a polite nod. “Lovely to meet you, Captain Thorne.”
Gideon bowed his head slightly. “A pleasure. Gideon, please.”
Caelan took the seat beside Alena, while Gideon moved to settle beside Neia. Their shoulders were close. Too close now that Neia’s thoughts were dancing with the memory of what he might have overheard. She didn’t dare meet his eyes.
And from across the table, Alena caught Caelan’s amused glance and gave him a look of her own, as if to say: You’re not as subtle as you think you are.
Dinner came to a warm, lingering end with empty plates, shared laughter, and the soft clink of teacups being set down for the last time. The lanterns outside the restaurant had grown brighter against the darkening sky, casting golden light across the cobblestones. As they stepped out into the open air, the night greeted them with a gentle breeze and the faint murmur of city life settling down.
Caelan glanced at his timepiece, then tucked it away with a quiet sigh. “I should start heading back. Highcourt Ward.”
“Oh,” Alena said, half to herself. “I’m headed that way too.”
Caelan raised a brow. “Are you? Whereabouts?”
She gave the name, and he gave a nod of recognition. “That’s not too far from where I’m staying.”
There was a pause before he added, with easy courtesy, “If you don’t mind the company, I can walk you part of the way.”
Alena blinked, surprised but not displeased. “That’s... sure. Thank you.”
Gideon looked toward Neia, who was adjusting the strap on her satchel. She caught his gaze and smiled softly.
“Looks like it’s just us, then,” she said.
He gave a small nod, standing a bit straighter. “Shall I walk you home?”
“I’d like that.”
A round of goodbyes followed, polite and warm, and then the four of them set off, Neia and Gideon veering one way, Alena and Caelan the other, drifting apart beneath the hush of stars, their footsteps quiet against the stone.
The night air was cool and fragrant as they strolled through the quieter streets of Korth, the sounds of the river a soft murmur in the distance. Neia and Gideon walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing. Not quite on purpose, but not entirely by accident either.
They chatted idly about the food at dinner, slipping into the kind of easy rhythm that had grown more natural with each time they saw each other.
“The grilled sea bass,” Neia said, still smiling from earlier. “That glaze? I think I need to learn how to make that.”
Gideon gave a soft laugh. “I was thinking the same thing. You know, for a second, I was tempted to ask the chef if he needed an apprentice.”
Neia turned her head to look at him, amused. “You? Giving up the sword and shield for kitchen knives?”
“I’m excellent with knives,” he said with mock solemnity.
She grinned and bumped her shoulder lightly into his. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”
They climbed a gentle slope toward the upper edge of the Community Ward, where the street curved out into a quiet overlook. A waist-high stone railing framed the view of the city, bathed in amber lanternlight and the silver kiss of stars. Neia drifted toward it instinctively, resting her hands on the stone and leaning forward just a little.
Gideon followed, pausing a step behind her. She turned her head slightly and gestured with her chin. “Look. Isn’t that beautiful?”
She meant the view, buildings softened by distance, lights flickering like fireflies. Gideon stopped just behind her. He watched her for a moment, his chest rising in a slow, steady breath. He knew he should admire the view. He tried. But all he could see was her. The way her hair moved slightly in the breeze, the soft line of her shoulders. She looked at peace, her gaze steady and full of wonder.
The way she tilted her head slightly, how her fingers brushed absently over the stone rail. The way her presence made him feel like there was no weight on his shoulders, no guard to keep raised. Just her. Just now. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. Soft. Warm. And so achingly close.
Gideon swallowed.
You could just… move.
You could step closer.
You could try…?
So he did.
He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, close enough that his presence wrapped around her like a second coat. With her standing by the railing in her modest heels, the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. He hadn’t quite realized just how small she was compared to him until this moment. Gideon drew a breath to steady himself.
This is fine. Just stand here. Hands on the railing. Easy.
But it wasn’t easy. His heart was pounding loud enough he was half-convinced she could hear it. He leaned down just enough to place his hands on the railing — one on either side of hers. His arms caged her in, but not forcefully. Gently. Protectively. Not quite touching. But she could feel the heat of him at her back, the subtle brush of his sleeve near her shoulder.
Neia stilled.
Her breath caught without permission, her fingers tightening slightly on the rail. Every part of her seemed to become aware of him at once; his warmth, the weight of his presence, the quiet hush of his breathing just above her. And despite her experience, her calm...
Her mind blanked like a heroine in one of Alena’s novels.
Gideon glanced down at her, unsure if he was being brave or stupid. His voice came low, almost too soft to hear over the city breeze.
“So,” he said, heart thudding, “weren’t you going to grab my face and kiss me if I ever stood behind you like this again?”
Neia froze.
Every muscle in her body rebelled at once. Her brain wanted to run, her legs had gone utterly useless, and her hands, still on the railing, suddenly felt like they were made of stone.
He did not just say that.
Except he had. She could hear the faint edge of nervousness underneath the tease in his voice, but the words were real, and so was the heat rolling off his chest behind her. She wasn’t imagining it. Gideon Thorne. House Deneith’s baby-faced bruiser, usually too shy to even flirt back properly, had just turned the tables on her.
And she wasn’t ready.
Her pulse leapt into her throat.
He heard me. He actually heard me at the restaurant.
Her eyes widened. And now he’s using it against me?
And worse; It’s working.
She knew she should say something. Anything. A clever retort. A breathy joke. Even a weak deflection would do. But her mouth had gone dry and her thoughts had turned to soup. She could feel the phantom shape of where his hands had caged her in. Could feel how close his voice had dipped to her ear. If she leaned back even a little, her shoulders would touch his chest.
Ugh, Gods he smells nice.
She nearly screamed at herself.
Then, all at once, the tension broke. Gideon let out a soft, nervous laugh, pulling back a fraction, just enough to give her space, not enough to truly leave.
“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice sheepish now. “I was just… teasing. Because of what I overheard. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I wasn’t—”
He stopped himself, ears pink, then looked away as if the night sky might offer him a distraction or a cliff to jump from.
Gods, he thought. Someone draft my will and push me into the sea.
Neia slowly turned her head, just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re lucky I didn’t actually grab your face.”
Gideon froze again. But this time, his reply came low and quiet. Almost too quiet.
“You still can.”
She blinked.
Her heart did an actual somersault. The words landed somewhere deep in her chest, just beneath her ribs, and set off a chain reaction of warmth that climbed rapidly up her neck.
For a beat, neither of them moved.
Then, with a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, Neia turned fully and smacked him lightly on the chest. It didn’t budge him in the slightest.
“Stop saying things like that,” she muttered, face glowing.
Gideon laughed, a gentle, breathy sound, his nerves fraying and mending all at once. “Sorry. That was my last one. I think my bravery quota ran out.”
“You think?” she teased, glancing up at him.
“Pretty sure I’ll be recovering from this until next month.”
Neia laughed. “You’ll live.”
He smiled, looking down at her with an expression softer than anything the moonlight could paint. And then, quietly, they began walking again. The night air curled cool against their skin, but neither felt the chill. Their steps fell in sync as if they had always known this rhythm, this nearness, this warmth.
They said nothing for a while.
But their hands brushed once. And neither pulled away.
Sweet merciful gods, Gideon thought, trying not to glance at her lips again.
I think I’m in love with Neia.
Beside him, Neia stared up at the stars like they held answers, her face still burning.
Oak Father save me. Her mind raced.
I think I’m in love with Gideon Thorne.