Tag: Writing

The Notebook

On By MaryIn Prompts, WritingLeave a comment

Okay! I have finished Baldur’s Gate 3 and can maybe manage to keep my next playthroughs from taking over all my time. Also, I have created a page that lists all the chapters thus far for the 2023 writing challenge, so that they can be easier to access in order. The link is above next to the About link.

The cards for this one are: stranger’s diary, and a person who knows something other people don’t. I had the basic idea from the beginning and pretty much stuck with it. It’s been hard to keep these short because I feel like they need more details, but I also didn’t intend to create anything long with the prompt challenges (the goal being to write something very short in one sitting). Not sure if that makes this story more abrupt in some ways?

Anyhow: le bullshit.

          It was a plain composition book left in a common area of Richard’s dorm. He had picked it up and flipped through the first few pages thinking it might have a name and he could return it to its owner. Instead of the class notes that he expected, he found a diary. He had glanced around, asked a few nearby people if they’d seen who had left it, but no one claimed it. For a moment he was wracked with indecision. If he left it, whoever it belonged to might come back for it. But it would also be out for anyone to read, and he knew how embarrassing that could be for some.

          Richard considered himself respectful of other people’s privacy, so with the best of intentions he took the diary to his room. He’d flip through just enough entries to identify the person and then return the diary to them. And he’d never tell anyone what was in it. There was nothing that immediately identified the writer unfortunately. The first several entries were mundane – daily activities, to do lists that were crossed out. The person used initials instead of full names for the most part.

          Richard was about to give up and possibly take the book back to where he found it when something caught his eye. An actual name, fully spelled out. A girl’s name – Felicia.

          Richard found himself reading the entry carefully, drawn to the name by one fact – Felicia was also the name of a girl that had recently disappeared on campus. No one knew what had happened to her. The diary detailed her appearance, which matched the pictures Richard had remembered seeing of the missing girl. It listed other basic facts about her – the schedules she kept, the routes she took to her job or to her classes, the places she liked to hang out, the people she routinely interacted with.

          It was creepy, and Richard found that he suspected where it was going even before it got there. But reading the entry from the date she disappeared confirmed it.

          How she was kidnapped. Where she was taken. What was done with her.

          A strand of long dark hair was taped to the page in a squiggly spiral.

          Richard continued reading the next several pages. It looked like the diarist had continued as normal for several entries before detailing information about another young woman named Emily. From the description, Richard recognized her as a girl that lived in the same dorm as him. He guessed that the stalker had likely left the book behind after observing her downstairs.

          All of the information in the book suggested that the person that wrote it already knew enough about Emily to pull off a successful abduction, to repeat what he had done to Felicia, to possibly add her hair to the notebook.

          After reading the final entry, Richard closed the composition book and tapped the cover thoughtfully, considering his options.

*********

          Emily was abducted that night, before Richard had even brought the book to the police. He had handed it to the officers, explaining that he had found it in the dorms and wasn’t sure who it belonged to or if any of it was even real or some sick prank. Pointing out the more recent entries about Emily, Richard saw the officers exchange worried looks. “She was reported missing just hours ago,” one of them told him. “Would you mind staying and answering some questions?”

          “Not at all,” Richard said. Richard provided everything he knew would help, and wished them luck on the case.

          His fingerprints were all over the diary, so he knew it was a risk. But he felt almost certain that he handled what he left behind so much better. Certainly, he never left behind a full diary detailing his deeds. He drove a meandering route, making sure that no one was tailing him, returning to where he had been that evening. If he was lucky, the diarist would be pinned for the little spree he had started at the beginning of the semester. It had spiraled a bit out of control, admittedly – he should have started his hunts farther from where he lived. But if the idiot was caught for what he had done to Felicia – certainly he would seem a likely culprit for Richard’s victims. After all, how many college campuses had two active serial killers?

          All Richard had to do was cool his urges, keep them in check, be smarter about it in the future.

          But he could still enjoy the night with Emily.

31. Cassandra

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

Traveling through the Empire was much easier than our mad dash to the Empire, though I did miss having Silden and Larina with us. We traveled slowly even though we were on horseback, and there was a wagon for us to take turns in as well. I didn’t even mind listening to Raella drone too much, especially if I could get her on the subject of the gods. I did have a personal interest in that now, after all.

From what she said, I learned that the old pantheon included anywhere from five to fifteen gods. “We’re not sure if we are misunderstanding and perhaps counting some of them multiple times, or even missing some entirely. After all, it would be possible for one god to have several domains that they oversee.”

“Domains?”

“Yes… aspects of nature or powers that a god represents. Lucas’s manipulation of plant life and his animal companion suggests he is the favorite of the god of nature.”

“I’ve used a lot of lightning in my magic,” I mentioned.

Raella nodded thoughtfully. “There is a god whose domain is storms. Perhaps that one favors you.”

T’Keran, I thought to myself. I didn’t speak her name out loud, but still felt something like the stirring of a current in the air.

We had left the borders that ran along the canyon and the great desert, and followed a road that ran easterly along a southern sea. From my understanding of the maps I had seen, near the southeast corner of the Empire was a land bridge that connected the elven lands with the dwarven lands. The journey there was going to take a little over two weeks, maybe even three – we had a lot of ground to cover, traveling from the western border of the Empire all the way to the eastern corner of it. “Dwarves,” I had mused out loud when Raella mentioned them for the first time. “Do they live underground?”

Asterollan nearly choked on a laugh, and Raella gave me a very sharp look. “Every single one of you has asked that!”

“Really?” I said, eyeing Asterollan, who was very careful not to look at me. “It’s kind of a common…” I paused, not sure how to translate the word trope. “…idea. In our world.” Raella sighed in frustration.

There were cities along the southern coast, but fewer than I would have expected along the ocean. “During the Fracture, elves were so busy fighting amongst themselves that humans and dwarves managed to domineer the seas. Many small coastal towns were not able to survive in the south, where trade flourished between countries that had become hostile to us. We have managed to maintain some degree of naval dominance in the east and the north, at least,” Raella had explained.

During our travels, I tried teaching the others my healing spell. It was slightly awkward at first – the only way to heal was to cause an injury. Raella and Greyjon had both volunteered and took turns slicing small cuts across their arms so Asterollan and I could demonstrate the spell and so the others could practice. Only Lucas could manage it – in fact, I suspected he was more powerful than I was with it. Peyton’s version was not as effective, only as strong as Asterollan’s healing magic – she could close the wounds, but if it was a particularly deep cut it still left a faint scar. Lexie couldn’t manage it at all. “This is a completely unfair Uno reverse,” she grumbled at Lucas as she tried and tried again with no result.

Greyjon began to teach me some of the more martial lessons the others were learning too – I had taken archery classes before, so I had a grasp of the basics there. But Greyjon quickly decided that I had no business holding a sword, and I was given lessons with Lexie and Lucas with staves instead.

They were a little less sure on what to do with Lyre. He didn’t need to be trained in magic, and didn’t seem interested in learning to handle a weapon at all. They had lost the rapier in the spider’s den, and he didn’t miss it. They did decide to test his power when we were far from any towns or cities by suggesting that he cast the largest flame spell he could manage out towards the ocean. The breadth of it surprised even me – I had seen him lob balls of fire at things with ease, but the scorching inferno he summoned practically filled the horizon, and the heat radiating from it was intense. I don’t think I was the only one that took a step back in surprise. Guiding with his voice and a few gestures of his hand, he pulled the flames back into a central mote that glowed white hot, still radiating the same amount of heat. And then he snuffed the ball out of existence. Greyjon gave a long, low whistle into the silence as the heat disappeared. “You’re skilled. Nearly as adept as some of our more fearsome warlocks,” he said, his voice full of awe.

Lyre was gasping with the effort of the spell and rode in the wagon the rest of the day. He had seemed embarrassed by the compliment. “It’s almost annoying to think that Wrasker actually made me useful,” he said later, poking at his food.

“Wrasker didn’t make you useful,” I snapped, feeling somewhat angry at the idea. “Wrasker didn’t make you anything. You would have already been powerful and he just used that.” Lyre had stared thoughtfully into the middle distance as I spoke, neither arguing or acquiescing.

Zolambi spent a lot of time teaching Lyre about the Empire, perhaps giving him the same information that was being provided to Larina and Silden by other people. Lucas and Lyre also seemed to be on friendly terms.

Whenever there was a chance to stay in a town, Raella took it and, much as Lucas and Lexie had described, an entire inn was cleared for us each time. Sometimes the inns were quite small, and many of us shared rooms. Probably thanks to the close quarters, the leisurely nights sharing chores and watch duty in camps, and the lengthy travel, we were all getting to know each other quite well. I found that my fellow outworlders were all companionably nerdy and fun to talk to. Even Peyton, who had been intimidating at first when I considered her fame. And although Raella was aloof, both Greyjon and Chase were easy going and friendly.

Asterollan mostly kept to himself, and was very careful to avoid Lyre and Zolambi. He spent a lot of time with Raella. I had the feeling he was using her ability to chase the others away with her lessons and simply tuned her out most of the time. But if that was the case, he had mastered the ability to appear impressively attentive.

It was one of the nights that we had stayed at an inn that I first had the dream.

I recognized it was a dream as I was having it. Everything about it seemed instantly familiar, as though I was remembering it, and realized it was from a previous dream. But also, in the same instance, I realized it wasn’t from a previous dream of mine. This dream, I sensed, this recognition… it belonged to someone else entirely.

I was somewhere dark, deep underground, but still lit with blue arcane light that trailed down the passage I stood in. I turned at the sound of something cracking, crackling, like the sound of bones breaking. There stood a figure of shadow with bright white eyes, like beams of narrow light cutting through the dark to focus on me. I could hear a voice that I instantly recognized, softly murmuring something I couldn’t understand. The voice I had heard on the ship so long ago, that I had completely forgotten. The voice that said the seal was weakening. The deep, dark laugh.

That same laugh echoed again in my head as I woke. Still sleep fogged, my brain tried to recall the meaning of the words the shadow figure had spoken, but it was all frustratingly just beyond my grasp. The only thing I could remember with any clarity was that it wasn’t my dream. But whose dream was I sharing? I looked out across the darkened room, at Peyton and Chase’s forms in the other bed, and Lexie sleeping next to me.

I spent the next few days surreptitiously studying my companions a little more closely, but nothing anyone said or did suggested they were having dreams where they were talking to our supposed enemy. I was wondering if perhaps it was just a normal dream when it happened again a few nights later. It was the same place, the same strange arcane glow, the same deep laughter. The same sense that I was somehow observing someone else’s dream from their perspective. When I woke, I sat up in my bedroll and stared across the camp. Everyone appeared to be sleeping peacefully, aside from Asterollan and Raella who were on watch. I walked away from the campfire, up to the rise of a hill that sloped down into a pebbly beach. We weren’t very far from the sea, and the smell of the brine was heavy in the air.

Within sight of the water, I could see a glowing figure wading in the shallows. I squinted, frowning – it looked like a child, wearing a short robe or toga, with long flowing hair that grew translucent and disappeared into the air. I couldn’t tell if it was a little boy or a little girl, but I could hear the giggling, clear as a bell as it carried across the night air. I could see the bioluminescence of some creature – jellyfish, perhaps – moving through the water around it.

The figure stepped out of the water, moving up the beach, and strands of kelp and algae seemed to bloom at its feet. It stopped and stared up at me, smiling, and then disappeared.

 “Was that T’Keran?” Asterollan asked, practically right at my shoulder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, I hadn’t heard him approach at all. I turned to look at him, saw that he was standing right next to me and staring out at the water. “You could see her?” I asked, surprised. He nodded. I paused as I considered. “No, I don’t think that was her.”

He stared out at the beach, a frown on his face. “They’re getting stronger,” he said.

I knew he meant the gods of this world. “Yes,” I said. “Have you seen yours?”

“Briefly, on occasion. A figure of light, out of the corner of my eyes, usually in bright daylight. I think a few of the others have spotted him too, but thought they were imagining it.”

“Hmm. I haven’t seen him yet.” I wondered what his name was. I wondered what it meant if we were seeing gods besides the ones that favored us. I wondered what it meant that I was sharing someone’s dreams. I yawned and stretched and turned away from the beach, suddenly exhausted by it all. I wished Asterollan a mumbled good night, and walked back to my bedroll.

The next night we stopped at the largest city I had seen yet – Ylfsport. This one had a docks district, but it looked like it mostly homed fishing vessels that stayed close to the bay the city was built in. We had pushed on along the road even as darkness fell intending to reach it since we were close, and because of the fading light we could see that far on the horizon, there was a foreboding orange glow out at sea. “Has something caught fire?” Raella asked the gate guards while they argued about the presence of Peter the spider.

The guards glanced at each other nervously. “There’s an island south of here that has the remains of an old temple,” one of them said.

“I am aware of it,” Raella said tersely. “Did something happen to it?”

“The entire island’s been burning for days now,” the other guard said.

“I see.” Raella seemed distracted through the rest of the evening. Although normally she preferred to stay at an inn close to the outskirts of the towns we stopped at, we wound our way through the roads of Ylfsport until we found an inn closer to the docks. It was interesting to be walking through an Elven city for the first time. Many of the stores had been closed earlier, and it was late enough that there weren’t many people out and about, beyond a few skulking shadows that seemed to decide a group of our size wasn’t worth messing with. Some of the taverns we passed were bright and boisterous though, and I could hear brief snatches of music and drunken laughter as we passed. The homes were well lit and I could smell various dinners being cooked. But as we got closer to the ocean, the smell of smoke became more overwhelming.

Once we were settled in at our destination and had our own fill of supper, Raella excused herself. She beelined for the door and left the inn. We all stared after her for a moment, before glancing around at each other, a little puzzled. “Maybe she’s trying to see if she can spot the fire?” Chase suggested.

The next morning, Raella called for our attention as we finished eating breakfast. “We may not be leaving immediately,” she said, looking mildly agitated. “To the south of Ylfsport is a small island that houses a temple. The entire island is on fire. There have been attempts to quell the flames, but nothing seems to work.” She sighed and looked up at each of us. “I would not normally want to detour, but the temple belonged to a fire god and there are rumors that the fire is divine in nature. Given my position at the University… and since it could be argued this is tangentially related to our mission… I plan to take a boat to the island today to see this divine flame for myself.”

“Are we going with you?” Peyton asked.

Raella hesitated. It seemed that she had planned to say no, but she paused on the word and seemed to consider the offer. “If you would like to,” she acquiesced with a brief nod.

I glanced around the table. “I would like to,” I said. A part of me was curious to visit another temple after having seen the last one. But I also wondered at how active the gods were becoming now.

“Oh, me too,” Lexie volunteered nearly on my heels. One by one, the others also mentioned wanting to go.

Raella sighed again and nodded. “I hope passage can be arranged for all of us,” she said. She voiced it like a complaint, but I thought she looked relieved to not be going alone. We kept the entire inn reserved for ourselves for that day and the entire next, and left the horses and the cart and much of our supplies in their care. At the docks, Raella made a deal for us to take a boat across to the island.

It was clear where the island was located because of the smudge of smoke that darkened the sky. It felt like the entire oceanside was hazy with it, but it thickened and concentrated in one area. The fisherman that owned the boat was reluctant to steer directly into it. “It’s dangerous. There’s zero visibility once you get close to the island, and it was never easy to land on with all its steep edges. I can get you to the side, but I don’t think I can navigate to any of the safer spots to berth.”

“That’s okay. We’ll manage it ourselves once we get there,” Raella said.

“But I’ll be risking damage to my vessel if I slam into the side of the island,” the fisherman complained.

“Then I will compensate you for any damages you take,” Raella responded, annoyed. “I think I am offering a more than fair deal. Will you do it or not?”

Within the next hour we were all loaded onto a large fishing boat with the fisherman and his oldest daughter. We sailed across the waters, approaching a bank of smoke so thick that it looked like a dense cloud. “That’s going to wreak havoc on our lungs,” Lucas said, looking concerned as we approached.

Raella began to glow. She held her hands aloft, and a soft light expanded out from her in a wave, large enough to encompass the entirety of the boat. As we sailed into the smoke, it shifted along the edges of the light.

“Oh, okay then,” Lucas said, and Peter happily chittered, waving its front legs along the edge of the barrier.

30. Cassandra

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

It wasn’t long until the wine bottle was empty and Lyre was sleeping at the table, and I realized he really was an absolute light weight. I decided it was probably time to head to bed, and pulled him up to his feet. He drunkenly mumbled some mild protests but moved along as I instructed. “Do you need help?” Greyjon said, shifting his chair back so he could stand.

I waved the offer away. “No, it’s fine. You guys have a nice evening.” He looked uncertain, but didn’t insist further. The barkeep and the innkeeper had disappeared – with none of their usual clientele to tend to, I guess they didn’t see the point in staring at us the entire night. I realized I wasn’t really sure what rooms we were allowed to use. Not wanting to even attempt to drag Lyre upstairs, I decided to try a door just past the stairs in a short hallway. I hoped fervently that I wasn’t going to be walking into the kitchen or an employee break room of some sort, and pushed the first door I came to open.

I initially breathed a sigh of relief seeing a bed and what appeared to be a normal room, but froze when I realized it was occupied. Asterollan looked up, frowning – he was standing at the foot of the bed, his shirt halfway pulled off. For a moment I gaped – he was thin, practically all wiry muscle, and also covered in a shocking variety of scars. He looked as though he had been slashed and stabbed and then poorly patched up at least half a dozen times, and I could see a massive burn scar across his upper back. “Oh, shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I mumbled, and attempted to back out of the room, tripping over Lyre’s feet and falling over him instead in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Asterollan sighed and pulled his shirt back on. Then he came over and helped me to my feet, before pulling Lyre easily up from the floor into a fireman’s carry and plopping him down on the bed. I stood by the door for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. “Is he drunk?” Asterollan asked, sounding a little surprised.

I laughed, perhaps a bit nervously. “Yeah. I don’t think he has much experience with wine.”

Something in Asterollan’s expression softened. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”

For a moment I was struck with how strangely sympathetic his reaction seemed, for someone that hunted escaped slaves. I studied Asterollan for several moments – the quiet must have stretched a little too long because he looked up at me, a frown on his face that brought me back to the present. “I’m sorry for walking in on you,” I said. “Were you getting ready to go to sleep?” He nodded, and I grimaced. “Sorry,” I said again. I looked down at Lyre’s sleeping form. “I umm… I guess we’re stealing your room.”

He shrugged. “A bed’s a bed. I’ll be fine in one of the other rooms, I’ll just remember to lock the door next time.” He moved to gather his pack and cloak, and started to walk toward the door. Then he stopped, and turned back toward me. He seemed hesitant to speak for a moment, but then asked, “What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

“I peed my pants in a movie theater once because I didn’t want to miss any of the movie,” I answered automatically. I opened my mouth to elaborate more before realizing I really didn’t want to, and stared in wide eyed horror at Asterollan. How had I just let that slip like it was nothing? It hadn’t even been the first thing that crossed my mind, because I would never willingly tell anyone about it. I felt my face redden just remembering the moment. “That… I can’t believe I told you that.”

Despite my own embarrassment, he was the one who looked sheepish. “I think I owe you an apology. Raella noticed that I… compel the truth out of people. I was not even aware I was doing it.”

I froze for a moment, thinking of everything I had told him over the past several days. It was true that I had shared everything he had asked, even despite the lack of trust I initially had for him. Even things I would have felt more comfortable withholding. I nodded slowly, feeling strangely violated. “So you decided to test that by asking me about my most humiliating moment?”

“I needed a question that you might not choose to answer honestly. At first I had considered asking something more… intimate. But that seemed inappropriate.”

I sighed, feeling the same level of frustration I had initially had for him. I wondered what kind of intimate question he had considered asking, but did not want to be compelled to answer anything of the sort in the moment.  “Is it something you can learn to control?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. I intend to try, but even if I can’t, well – perhaps everyone can stand to be a little more honest, and I prefer knowing the truth.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms. “If only we could all be privy to everyone’s truths.”

He looked ready to leave, but stopped at my statement and met my glare evenly, calmly. “Is there something you wish to know about me?” For a moment, I was taken aback. Seeing the expression on my face, he said, “It’s only fair. You have been exceedingly honest with me.”

I didn’t even pause to consider my question. “Why did you choose to be a Hunter?”

“Oh? Most women that have seen me without my shirt on are more curious about the scars,” he said, his tone unexpectedly teasing. I raised an eyebrow as I waited for his answer. He fidgeted, suddenly looking uncomfortable, and leaned against the wall. “I came from a very poor family. My father was always driving us into further debt, and when the time came to pay those debts, he offered my mother and I as indentured servants to the household of a minor lord and disappeared. Per the terms, we were legally bound to stay with the family for at least 5 years, but because we were looking at total poverty after that period, my mother extended her contract to 10 years.”

“So you were like slaves?” I asked. I settled onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Lyre.

“Being indentured is a contractual agreement. We had more rights than slaves, and knew that our time in service would come to an end, and that we’d be well paid for it. But we did spend a lot of time working alongside the slaves. My mother always sympathized with them. She was a kind woman.” He paused, his gaze becoming unfocused and a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Whenever she had a chance to sneak away some sugar, she would make pulled candy. She would let me work it until it was set, then she would cut it in pieces and share it amongst the other staff and the slaves. She was always particularly fond of children.” I frowned for a moment, until I realized he was basically describing taffy, and I nodded in understanding although he didn’t seem to be paying attention to me.

He seemed especially lost in thought, until I finally said, “None of that explains why you would want to hunt slaves.”

His head jerked slightly as he refocused his eyes on me. “Yes… I was getting to that. There was a slave that managed to be freed – entirely by accident. She had placed her focus down, and another slave had picked it up and used it. When the shock of the Focus breaking had calmed, and the slave realized she was free, she panicked. She was too scared to run, but she was terrified of what staying could mean. My mother was trying to calm her and she lashed out, calling down a telekinetic storm that sent everything in the kitchen flying violently.” He ran his hand down the scar that crossed his face. “This was a kitchen knife. An entire cauldron of boiling water was upended on my mother.”

“But… that was an accident.”

“Yes, but not what happened next.” He grinned mirthlessly. “Two of the other slaves in the kitchen cowered, throwing up barriers to protect themselves, but one other saw the moment for what it was. He grabbed another of the slaves and shoved his Focus into their hands, threatened to bash their heads in if they didn’t try to use it. Then he had his freedom too. The first thing he did was kill my mother.” The mirthless grin disappeared. “Maybe he was taking pity on her. She was so badly burned from the water, she would have died – it may have taken hours, or maybe days. It doesn’t change the fact that I had to listen to her die screaming.”

I felt sick to my stomach imagining what that would be like – seeing your own mother die in front of you. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

His mismatched eyes met mine. “The slave escaped. He took the other, the one that had been freed first, with him. She was still in shock, I think. They ran. The other two slaves were killed so they couldn’t spread the knowledge of how to break the tether, and I believe he was caught and put on display as a warning.”

“What happened to the other slave?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps she made it to the Empire.” Asterollan pushed away from the wall. “I was very angry for a very long time. My mother had been a kind person, and she hadn’t deserved the life she got, or the end she met.” He paused again, drawing in a deep breath. Then he gave a half-hearted smile and added, “Besides, that moment ruined this beautiful face.”

I groaned. “It’s less charming when someone knows they’re beautiful,” I said.

The smile turned a little more genuine. “So you think I’m beautiful,” he teased.

“Yes,” I said immediately. Then I grimaced. “Damn it, I would not have normally said that at all. I think I’m owed another question.”

He snorted. “Ask away.”

“Can you see out of that eye? Or is it just… dead?”

He looked a little taken aback by the question and laughed. “Ah, so we get to the scars. Actually… I did used to be blind out of it. I spent so much of my life learning to overcome and adapt to that half-blindness. But shortly after I started hearing the voice… the vision returned.” He waved a hand briefly in front of his face. “A generous gift.”

“Binocular vision. A most generous gift,” I said – but not knowing the word for binocular I said it in English, and he looked a little confused. I hopped up from the bed and walked over to him, studying the scar on his face curiously. “I wonder, if I focused hard enough, if I’d be able to heal any of the scars…” I said as I reached up to his face.

He grabbed my hand before I could touch him. “I doubt it. And even if you could, I wouldn’t want it.” I tilted my head slightly. “We should keep some of the scars we earn by living.”

I thought briefly of all my own removed scars, and nodded. “I understand,” I said.

I looked at my hand, that he was still holding. “Ah,” he said, and quickly dropped it. Standing this close to him, it was easy to see that we were the same height, and I caught the scent of mint from the cloak he still held, hung over his other arm. He was staring at me intensely for a moment, and then suddenly asked, “Are you in love with the elf?”

A part of me meant to laugh it off and say that I hadn’t known Lyre long enough or well enough to love him. Instead, I simply said, “Yes.” The quickness of the answer, the fact that it was compelled by truth, the answer itself – it all completely surprised me. I stepped back for a moment, staring at the floor, and realized it was true. “Yes,” I repeated, slowly in consideration.

Asterollan smiled at me. “I thought so,” he said. “But I wanted to know for sure.”

I frowned at him. “I think you’ll be owing me a lot of questions before long.”

“I’ll answer them all truthfully,” he said. “But perhaps another night. I’m off to find a different bed.” I opened the door for him and stepped back, and watched him make his way to the stairs to find an available room. I could faintly hear laughter and groaning from the others out in the tavern section. I closed the door quietly and turned back toward the bed, to see that Lyre was sitting up, staring at me.

I froze. I wondered how long he had been listening and how much he comprehended in his drunken state. Regardless, it wouldn’t be a conversation for tonight. I walked over and pushed him gently back. “Go to sleep, Lyre. You’re drunk,” I said. He closed his eyes, nodding slightly, and reached up to place a hand over mine where it still rested against his chest. I stood like that for awhile, until his breathing grew even, feeling his heart beat under my hand.

With a sigh, I finally extricated my hand and walked around to the other side of the bed. Crawling under the blankets, I extinguished the lights, curled onto my side, and forced myself to sleep.

I woke suddenly in the morning to the sound of a familiar scream. It still startled me enough that I sat up, feeling alarmed. “Lucas,” Lyre murmured from where he lay above the blankets next to me. Right – Lucas and his pet spider, that he was terrified of. I chuckled and flopped back down onto the pillow. There was light coming through the window, but it was the dim gray of early morning, when the shadows of night still linger.

I yawned and rubbed at my eyes, my stomach lurching in embarrassed anticipation. “How much of last night do you remember?” I asked tentatively.

“It’s a bit of a blur,” he said, and I almost sighed with relief before he finished with, “But I remember that you love me.” I felt like curling up and dying of embarrassment for a moment. I stayed still, not wanting to look at him, but I felt him pull the blankets back. “Are you hiding on purpose?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Maybe,” I groaned. I turned to see that he was leaning over me, smiling.

Instead of the usual flutter of butterflies that I had expected, my heart instantly calmed at the sight of that smile. I smiled back at him. I felt it right then, the second before he said it – and strangely, despite the brief time that we had known each other, it felt right. “I love you too.”