Chapter 4 - One More Day
The room Iris led them into was not ostentatious by noble standards, though it was clearly meant for someone accustomed to comfort. The floors were polished stone, softened by woven rugs in soft shades of green and gold. Delicate lamps hovered in sconces shaped like ivy leaves, casting warm light across walls lined with pale wood and a writing desk carved from moon oak. There were two beds, a grand four-poster with drawn-back curtains, and a long daybed tucked beneath the arched window, padded with silk cushions and dressed in pale linen.
Elarion had barely stepped inside when he felt out of place. It was not that anything was particularly overwhelming, just… deliberate. Pretty. Every surface gleamed as though polished by someone who had never seen dust. The air smelled faintly of roses and something sweet he could not name.
He crossed the room silently and lowered Ayda onto the daybed with careful hands, adjusting her cloak so she would stay warm through the night. She did not stir. Only once she was settled did he step back, awkwardly brushing his hands together as if unsure what to do next.
Iris, meanwhile, was unlacing her cloak and hanging it neatly on a hook by the door. She looked far too at ease in her own space.
“You’re welcome to stay too, you know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “There’s plenty of room.”
Elarion straightened, startled. “Here?”
She raised a brow, puzzled by his tone. “Yes. I mean, if you're comfortable. I don’t mind.”
A strange heat began to climb up the back of his neck.
No. Steady now. You’re Lythari. You’re meant to be mysterious. Dangerous, even. You can’t let her think Lythari men are... harmless.
He cleared his throat and folded his arms in what he hoped looked like practiced confidence. Then, taking a slow step forward, he stopped just close enough to tower slightly over her, letting the height difference do some of the work.
“Are you sure,” he said carefully, “you want a man staying in the same room as you?”
It came out lower than intended, almost serious. A touch of warning, perhaps. Or mystery. It sounded better in his head.
Iris blinked at him once, then smiled with an almost dangerous light in her eyes.
“I don’t think you’d do anything to me,” she said matter-of-factly, in the same tone one might use when recalling an old childhood pet. It somehow reminded her of the hamster she had once loved as a girl. Wide-eyed, serious, and terribly convinced of its own ferocity.
That alone might have been tolerable. But then she tilted her head and added, “Unless, of course, you want me to make a move. Is that what this is?”
Her voice was teasing, the kind of tone one used when playing with fire they were quite sure would not burn them.
Elarion’s ears turned crimson.
“I’m kidding,” she said with a soft laugh, waving her hand as if brushing away smoke.
His frown returned with sharp determination, but it was now noticeably red around the edges. He cleared his throat again, this time in a manner that suggested he was trying to reset his entire existence.
“I will… come back for Ayda in the morning,” he said stiffly. “I’ll be sleeping on the outskirts tonight. Under the trees.”
Iris opened her mouth, but he added quickly, “Which is a perfectly normal and entirely dignified thing to do. Not strange. Not… rustic.”
She bit back another smile. “Of course.”
Without another word, Elarion turned and made for the door, boots silent on the polished stone. His pride was not quite intact, but it was held together by enough thread to get him outside. And when the door clicked softly shut behind him, Iris looked over at Ayda, still peacefully asleep, and murmured, “You know, he’s kinda cute when he’s flustered.”
The moment Elarion stepped out into the cool night air, his entire upper body shuddered violently, as if trying to physically shake the memory out of his bones. He made it five steps from the door before burying his face in his hands and letting out a low, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a dying animal.
“What the hells was that,” he whispered, muffled by his palms. “Why did I say that. Why did I stand over her like that. Am I a threat? What am I, a tragic bard? A villain? A fool? An actual bumpkin??”
He dragged a hand down his face, then covered it again.
What even was that line. “Are you sure you want a man—”
He groaned again, louder this time.
“Cringe. That was… ugh. Gods, that was so bad.”
He exhaled sharply and stared at the stars, as if they might offer mercy.
Across the street, the trees waited in their quiet stillness, their silhouettes calm and unwavering. He looked at them with the kind of shame only known to those who had tried to sound cool in front of a pretty girl and failed completely.
“I should just dig a hole under the damn tree and never come out.”
Morning light spilled through the tall windows in ribbons of soft gold, casting a gentle warmth over the quiet room. The world beyond the glass was just beginning to stir, but within the inn’s finest suite, it was calm. Peaceful. Nearly weightless.
Ayda stirred beneath the light linen sheets, her silver hair tousled and clinging in strands to her cheek. She blinked blearily, then sat up slowly, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar room. She froze when she saw the elegant figure seated at the vanity.
“Good morning,” Iris said, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. She held a small brush in one hand, paused mid-stroke along the line of her cheekbone.
“...Good morning,” Ayda echoed, her voice small and unsure. Her wide eyes flicked between the soft gold wallpaper, the delicate carved trim of the furniture, and the gowns that hung in gentle rows by the wardrobe. “Where am I?”
Iris set the brush down and rose quickly, crossing the room with quiet steps. “You’re safe,” she said gently, kneeling beside the daybed. “You fainted yesterday, and a man brought you into the tavern asking for help. That man was Elarion, yes?”
Ayda nodded slowly, still squinting.
“I’m Iris,” the woman said. “I’m a cleric, and I was able to heal you.”
“Oh,” Ayda murmured, reaching for her hand. “I feel fine now. Really.” She gave a little flex of her fingers. “My hand doesn’t even sting anymore.”
“I’m glad,” Iris said, squeezing her hand with a warm smile.
Ayda looked around the room again. “Where’s Elarion?”
“He said he’d come pick you up sometime this morning,” Iris replied. “I imagine he’s out in the trees, enjoying the quiet.”
Ayda giggled faintly. “He likes it better outside.”
Iris tilted her head, then noticed the faint streaks of dirt on the child’s cheeks, and the way her silver hair had tangled in the night.
“Would you like to freshen up a bit?” she asked, brushing a curl away from Ayda’s brow.
Ayda gave a shy nod. “Yes, please.”
Iris led her to the adjoining bathroom, where marble tiles shimmered faintly in the morning sun, and a claw-footed tub stood ready in the centre like a miniature throne for a very small queen. Ayda gasped the moment she stepped in.
“It’s so shiny,” she whispered, awestruck.
Iris laughed softly. “It’s just a bath. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
She filled the tub with warm water, just enough to keep Ayda comfortable and safe, and laid out a few towels and scented soaps along the side. She stepped out while Ayda bathed, giving her space and humming a quiet tune while she tidied the main room.
When Ayda emerged again, wrapped in soft linen and blinking like a kitten, Iris guided her to the vanity chair and began brushing through the damp strands of silver hair with slow, gentle strokes.
“You have such beautiful hair,” she said, weaving the strands into fresh braids. “I’d be jealous if I weren’t so charmed.”
Ayda flushed and grinned. “I like your clothes,” she said, eyes flicking toward the elegant robes hung along the wardrobe. “All of them. You look like a lady from a storybook.”
Iris chuckled. “That’s very sweet of you.”
She paused for a moment, then tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the back of the chair.
“Would you like to go shopping?” she asked casually. “We could find you something pretty to wear. Something that feels like you.”
Ayda’s face lit up like a sunrise. “Can we really?”
“Of course,” Iris said, smiling at her delight. “You’re my special guest today.”
Out on the far edge of the city, where the trees had thinned but the light still filtered green and gentle through the canopy, Elarion stirred with a groan. He had barely slept. Not from discomfort — he had curled easily beneath the branches, as he always had — but from sheer mortification. The memory of the night before played on loop in his mind, every word echoing too clearly. He had spoken like a brooding character from a bad romantic novel.
He groaned again, face buried in the crook of his arm.
Eventually, after convincing himself that burying himself under a log was not a productive solution, he changed into a clean shirt from his satchel and splashed water on his face from the nearby stream. The cold stung, but in a clarifying sort of way. He took a long breath and tipped his head back toward the sunlight breaking through the trees.
The city waited beyond the trees, full of noise and stone and polished voices.
And somewhere within it, a little girl he had sworn to protect was likely waking in satin sheets, under the care of a woman who had bested him without even trying.
He exhaled slowly.
“One more day in the city,” he murmured to himself. “Just survive one more day.”