Chapter 9 - In Gentle Company
Morning came softly in Selathryn, the grove awash in golden light that filtered through its vast canopy. Iris stirred from sleep to the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft hum of distant birdsong. Ayda was already up, quietly entertaining herself with a small wooden puzzle near the window, her silver braids catching the light.
Nymeris greeted her with a smile and a warm cup of tea. "Would you care to see more of our grove today?" she asked, as she prepared a light breakfast of spiced flatbread and honeyed fruits.
Iris sipped her tea and smiled. "I'd love that."
Nymeris chuckled, her eyes glinting. "Then perhaps you should seek out a certain long-legged scout currently brooding by the training grounds. He’s been pacing all morning. Quite the sight."
Iris’s brow arched with amusement. "Has he now?"
She found Elarion exactly where Nymeris said he’d be. He hadn’t noticed her yet, focused as he was on his training. His movements were swift, clean, and controlled. Each strike of his blade followed by a fluid shift of weight and stance, every breath measured. There was a quiet power in his form, the kind honed not by ceremony, but by necessity.
She leaned against a nearby tree, watching with crossed arms and a small smile. The man who’d stumbled through a tavern door drenched in panic was now moving like he belonged to the forest itself. Capable. Steady. Nothing like the version painted by the High Warden’s words.
When he finally noticed her, he stopped mid-step, startled. "You’re up early," he said, wiping his brow.
"I could say the same," she replied. "Though I suppose you’ve been at it for hours."
He sheathed his blade. "Just a routine. Helps clear the mind."
"Well," she said, stepping closer, "if you’re not too busy, I’d love a tour of Selathryn. Nymeris said you’re the best guide in the grove."
A flicker of pride crossed his face, though he tried to mask it. "Did she now? I suppose I can show you a few places."
They strolled slowly through the winding paths of Selathryn. The grove bloomed around them like a hidden sanctuary. Stone archways entwined with flowering vines stretched over moss-lined paths. Pools of water reflected the shifting sky through the dome above, while iridescent birds darted between branches, their calls echoing like laughter.
They passed a tiered garden with floating lilies and stepped terraces carved from pale stone. Children’s laughter rang nearby, where a group played between spiralled trees with leaves the color of firelight. Iris paused at a hanging blossom and brushed her fingers against its petals, marvelling at the way the light caught the edges like spun glass.
Elarion glanced over, amused. "We like to keep a few secrets from the rest of the world."
"You’ve been doing an excellent job of it," she said.
They ended their walk at Nymeris’ garden, a space behind her home that felt quietly enchanted. A still pond sat at its heart, ringed by wildflowers and low-bending willows. Small birds chirped and flitted about, their wings catching glints of pink and gold.
Elarion crouched near the edge, inspecting the flowers. Suddenly, he plucked one with an almost boyish grin and turned toward her. "Look," he said, tapping her shoulder with the bloom. "An iris."
She blinked, then laughed. "Really?"
His smile faltered just enough to betray embarrassment. "Well, I thought it was pretty…" he said quickly, brushing his hand through his hair as if it might distract from the blush creeping up his ears. "Pretty… smart of me. Yes. That’s it."
She took the flower from his hand, holding it gently. "Right. Well, I thought it was sweet." She tilted her head with a small smile.
They sat together near the pond, the hush between them companionable. The breeze carried the scent of jasmine and green moss. For a while, neither spoke. Elarion’s gaze had drifted across the water, unfocused, lost in thought. Iris watched him quietly before inching closer and poking his cheek with a fingertip. “Hey, what’s on your mind?”
He blinked, startled out of his reverie. “It’s nothing,” he said, hastily offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Liar,” she murmured, leaning a little closer, her tone playful but concerned.
He hesitated, caught between retreat and confession. But her wide, steady eyes softened him, and he sighed.
“Being in the grove again… it’s complicated.”
“How so?”
“I love it here. I grew up here. Every path, every tree, it all carries a memory.” His voice quieted. “But not all of them are good ones.”
She tilted her head. “You can talk about it with me, you know. If you ever want to.”
His fingers had been weaving strands of flowers together absentmindedly. Now they stilled.
“I envy you,” he said after a pause. “Your freedom. The way you speak about the world as if it’s all within reach.”
She remained quiet, letting him continue.
“There have been so many times I wanted to leave. To just go and see something new. To get away from all this. Sometimes I wished I could turn into a bird instead of a wolf. So I could fly somewhere far, somewhere where the past wouldn’t follow.”
His smile was wry, but there was a tremble at the edge of it. “But I think I’m stuck here. Maybe that’s what fate had in store. I belong to the grove. To my pack. Whether I like it or not.”
His eyes remained on the flower crown in his lap, but Iris saw it. The faint quiver of his lips, the way his brows drew together, the quiet pain behind his calm. Before she could stop herself, her hand found his. Her fingers curled over his gently, wordless but warm.
He looked up. Their faces were close. Closer than he’d realised. Her knees nearly touched his. The air felt still and suspended around them.
Wait. What’s happening. Is this real? Her hand is so soft. No. Hang on.
And in that moment, he could think of nothing but how close she was, how soft her hand felt in his.
Then, panicked, flustered, he shot to his feet far too quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise—”
He stepped back and immediately lost his footing, the earth giving way beneath him. With a splash loud enough to startle the birds, he fell into the pond, limbs flailing.
Iris gasped, leaping to her feet. “Elarion!”
He resurfaced, soaked, sputtering, and red-faced.
As soon as she saw him, a laugh burst from her lips. Tears welled in her eyes as she doubled over, clearly the sort who laughed before helping. Once she managed to calm herself, she knelt by the water’s edge and extended a hand toward him, still grinning. “Are you alright?”
Elarion slicked his hair back with one hand and tried to brush off his dripping clothes with the other, as if it might somehow make a difference. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “it was quite a warm, balmy day anyway.”
“Right,” Iris replied, her giggles bubbling up again.
He smiled first, then a soft chuckle escaped him. It grew, unbidden, until he was laughing. Deep, hearty, and unrestrained. He couldn’t help it. His pride might have been in tatters, but his spirit felt lighter with every laugh. The laughter eased something in him, nudging aside the weight he carried like an old, familiar cloak.
With Iris beside him, smiling through the tears in her eyes, it was hard to feel anything but warmth. He still felt foolish, still damp and humiliated, but the sharp edge of embarrassment had dulled into something softer. Her presence made it bearable. It made him feel, for the first time in a long while, like maybe he didn’t have to brace himself all the time.
Behind them, the birds continued to sing, and from inside the house, Nymeris watched with a soft smile on her face. Quietly, she offered a prayer to Rillifane Rallathil, asking her god to guide and protect the smile and laughter on the boy’s face.