"Now it is your turn," said the baroness softly. "How did it all start between yourself and Darlac?"

  The baron stared into the night, a wistful smile playing around his lips.

  "She showed up at a tryout I held in Restov. The first moment I saw her, I said to myself: This one is too good for us. Too young, too sheltered, too noble. She won't last a week. However, I'm not one to reject a weapon without trying it out, just because it has gems embedded in its hilt. So I put her to the test. I made her spar with my finest officers and saw she could stand her ground. Then I sparred with her myself. Dear gods, was it the most fun I'd had in months. Not to mention that she was one of the few candidates who could reliably handle a horse. I wanted that weapon. First for its sharp blade of noble steel, then I started to appreciate the gems in the hilt as well."

  "Did she tell you why she wanted to sign up?"

  "It's the first question I ask of my would-be recruits, right after skimming over their resume. She only said she wanted to earn a living. Later on, she admitted that she wanted to get away from home, put herself to the test, experience the hard side of life, before she would decide how to move on. I bet she didn't expect for this intermediate phase of her life to last for so many years."

  "Does she have anyone in her life?" wondered Darlac. "Anyone to comfort her after an exhausting day of rulership?"

  "Many would be happy to give her that and more," said Hazel in a mysterious, dreamy voice.

  Darlac couldn't determine if this was reassuring or not. If the baroness was not famous for her promiscuity, that meant she was unlikely to cast her net on the baron, but on the other hand, if something did develop between them, that would probably be more than a fleeting affair.

  "Are you one of them?" she asked cheekily. Was it just her imagination, or did Hazel blush for a moment?

  "I am one of her closest friends. Perhaps the closest. I would be a fool to crave for anything else."

  "People can be fools," muttered Darlac into her mug, before emptying the last drops.

  "Oh. Can they now?"

  Hazel reached for her hand and squeezed it. She didn't withdraw, indulging in the warmth of their touch. As she glanced around, she realised that nearly all the merrymakers had dispersed to their homes or lodgings. The battlefield was empty, and she got what she'd wanted: a little attention and comfort. It was time to sound a retreat, return to her room and wallow in her bitterness until daybreak.

  She looked up at Hazel, and their eyes met again for a long moment.

  "Let me see you home," offered Hazel, holding out an arm, which Darlac didn't take. However, since the Nightvale crew were lodged in the same inn as herself (in fact, the only inn of Varnhold Town), she had no reason to refuse their company.

  "The plan was to sneak into the barn, create a distraction, get young Lander out, put him on a horse and carry him straight to Silverhall, the seat of House Lebeda, where his mother was waiting. And of course, to dispose of the kidnappers, once he was safely on his way home. However, the sneaky part didn't exactly go as planned. One misstep was enough to alert the guards, and instead of stealing back the boy, a bloody fight ensued. I lost five good men and women in that expedition, and it was close to a miracle that Felicia didn't become the sixth. As my best rider, it was her task to get Lander to a waystation, where another of my men was waiting with a fresh horse to take him over for the last leg of the journey."

  Now it was Guelder's turn to listen with fascination. She finally started to understand the background of the strange dialogue between Lander and Darlac at the inauguration ceremony. It was, after all, not a poorly handled love affair, but a bloody rescue operation. And the baron was great at storytelling, even if sometimes a little repetitive.

  "I waited outside Silverhall to receive Lander and deliver him to his mother. He was a pitiful sight indeed, with blood all over his shirt. Then it turned out that it was not his own blood. His mother even tried to withhold part of the payment because we scared her little boy and ruined his outfit. Anyway, once I squeezed the payment out of her, I hurried to the waystation. There she was, my promising young paladin, bandaged up and tucked in a bed, broken, unconscious, barely clinging to life. It broke my heart to see her like that. She'd ridden all the way with three arrows in her body, giving all her healing to her horse to keep it running. I didn't leave her bedside until the light returned into her eyes. It was then she started to consider me something more than her captain and employer. And it was then I realised I didn't want to lose her. Ever."

  As Darlac turned the key in the lock and entered her room, Hazel didn't say goodnight but slipped into the room along with her. They looked around, measuring up the space she lived in. It was an ordinary room in an ordinary inn, with a table, two chairs, a little dressing table with a mirror, a chest for personal belongings, a bed too wide for one but too narrow for two, an armour stand, weapons mounted on the wall, a nightstand with a book. The Basics of Modern Strategy. Darlac's brain faintly registered that Hazel locked the door from the inside, leaving the key in the hole.

  "So here lives the third most important person of Varnhold," they mused, with just a hint of sarcasm in their voice. "Not in a mansion of her own, not even in an apartment within the keep. In a rented room above the tavern, like a common traveller. I bow my head to your humility, my lady."

  "You're mocking me," said Darlac softly. "I might be drunk, but I'm no fool."

  "Far from it. I just think you are underappreciated by your... whatever he is to you. You deserve so much better than, like, a Willas Gunderson."

  Darlac narrowed her eyes, but remained silent. She had never realised before how the austerity of her lifestyle looked from the outside. Her disdain for keeping up appearances now backfired at her, and she realised that she would only make it worse by trying to explain it away. It felt mortifying. If only she could come up with a spirited retort and send this cheeky elf packing... But no. Her brain failed her big time. Perhaps she could just open the door and show (or even shove) them out. Then she could go find Maegar.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  No. He was probably busy now.

  Damn it all.

  "Anyway," said Hazel in a low, velvety voice, "you look exhausted. Let me help."

  "The recent situation is tough for us, in all honesty," said the baron, succumbing to nostalgy and the wine consumed during the banquet. "We're both changing, adapting to the new circumstances, and we're still groping in the dark, searching for the way forward, trying to hold onto each other's hand. It's a big challenge for us, as individuals and as a couple, too. In a sense, we are opposites. Fire and water, Lawful and Chaotic. Some would say incompatible. Well, I don't believe in that. You know, I'm trying to learn from my mistakes and improve. To remain worthy of her service and her love."

  Guelder smiled fondly. She liked this man, with all his good-natured blunders and oversharing. It felt liberating to leave their roles behind and just be people. She hadn't met a lot of other rulers as yet, but she could tell such moments were a rare treasure.

  "Make sure to invite me to the wedding, Maegar. I am just getting to know Darlac, but my instincts say she is a real gem, the sort you only find once in a lifetime. Do not take her for granted."

  "You have no idea, Guelder. I gave up on long-term relationships a while ago. That sort of thing is not for mercenaries. We live from one day to the next, courting death too frequently for comfort. And then I found my heart taken by assault by a beautiful angelspawn who could almost be my daughter. I don't think I ever loved anyone so much, and I'm not sure if I ever will."

  "Looks like you drank yourself maudlin, Your Grace," teased him the baroness. "How about calling it a night? I am getting tired myself, and she might already be missing you."

  "As you wish, Your Grace. Do you require an escort back to the inn?"

  "I can manage on my own, thank you. I promise I will not attack anyone on the way back."

  Hazel gently unclasped Darlac's cloak at her throat, their hands lightly brushing her clavicles, and draped it onto a chair. They removed her headband and put it around the nearest bedpost, then they sank their fingers into her hair, gently coaxing her to look at them. Their weird, all-pupil, dark green eyes, which gave them a slightly insect-like appearance, were focused on her face. She welcomed their presence, expecting all along that a moment later they would say goodbye and depart, leaving her alone with her harrowing jealousy. Maybe, just maybe, if they did, she would ask them to stay.

  Darlac made up her mind. It was better to prevent that scenario altogether.

  She drew even closer to Hazel and laid a hand on their chest, feeling their heartbeats through the thick woolen shirt.

  "Why do you serve her?" she asked, her gaze taking a deep dive into those dark eyes. What a stupid question to ask. Why couldn't she just banish the beast woman from her head, and focus on the here and now?

  "Does it matter?" they said softly. "She is not here. But while we are at it, why do you serve him, in the most intimate ways conceivable? For rank? For status? For riches? To make up for a missing father?"

  Darlac didn't falter under their gaze, however deep their words cut.

  "I love him," she said, pressing her body against Hazel's, feeling their desire. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.

  "Of course you do. And yet, here you are. With me."

  Darlac's jerkin dropped to the ground, while Hazel's deft fingers were undoing the buttons of her shirt. Their touch sent tiny electric jolts through her flesh, setting her blood alight. Was it their magic or her own passion?

  "Was he your first one?" they whispered into her neck between two kisses. "I can tell he was. You were like an immaculate gemstone, at constant risk of getting tainted, until you were chosen to decorate the most powerful man around. But how long can the magic last? How many years, or weeks, or minutes, before he finds an even more splendid jewel to flaunt?"

  Darlac's hands were wandering under Hazel's shirt, feeling out the muscles of their back under their uncannily smooth skin. Her nails dug into their flesh as their words squeezed her stomach. They responded with light, tickling kisses all the way down her neck.

  "You love her," she said softly. "But you can't get through to her. If you could swap me out for her, you wouldn't think twice."

  Saying it out aloud made her voice break and brought tears into her eyes, for Hazel and for herself. Hazel put a finger on her lips.

  "Ssh. No need to overthink it. Stay with me here, in the moment."

  Darlac inhaled their strange scent, reminding her of a storm in a forest of conifers, and indulged in their embrace. White-hot desire coursed through her veins, consuming and incorporating her frustration and resentment, claiming its independence from love. She was drifting towards a point of no return with frightening speed, like a boat towards the waterfall, scared to death, but also yearning to get submerged.

  A leopard prowled up the inn's staircase on silent paws, careful not to wake anyone at this hour of the night. The celebration was over, and the guests had already hit the hay, except for a fair-haired girl napping in the common room, her head resting upon her folded arms on the table. Guelder stepped cautiously, avoiding any creaking bit in the floor. Her keen ears caught sounds of snoring and puffing through the closed doors of the rooms... and something else. A soft but determined shout, more like a hiss.

  "I said stop!"

  She halted and dropped her shapeshift, crouching down, melding into the darkness of the staircase. She caught shreds of a conversation, too soft to be heard by anyone not trained in the forest. A woman's voice. Was that Darlac?

  "This is wrong on so many levels. Please go away."

  What was going on?

  Hazel materialised in front of the door next to theirs and Guelder's. They halted, looked around, listened. Guelder remained hidden, holding her breath until Hazel entered their own room.

  The baroness pondered her options. If she was any judge, Darlac needed support. But would she accept it from a neighbouring state's ruler? They hardly knew each other. Still, she had to try. Maybe even that would make a little difference.

  She made up her mind and knocked on Darlac's door. No answer came. She waited for a minute, then knocked again. Something stirred inside.

  "Darlac? Are you okay?"

  Guelder pressed her ear to the door. A woodworm was chewing away on the timber somewhere in the doorframe. Otherwise, nothing.

  "If you need help, or someone to talk to, please open up."

  There was no answer.

  "I am going to count to a hundred, then leave."

  Silence.

  Once she reached one hundred, Guelder released the breath she'd been holding, and knocked on the next door. Hazel needed some serious talking to.