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Elisha's POV
My cloak slipped.
One careless tug of the crowded street, and the worn fabric fluttered to the ground like a dying bird.
I froze. Not here. Not now.
Xavier bent immediately, quick as a rabbit, scooping it up before the filth of Ardenfel's streets could claim it. "Here," he said brightly, handing it over as though he hadn't just exposed me in front of everyone.
My chest squeezed as I clutched the cloak. Faded green. The brand of shame. The raider rank I no longer carried. The expulsion that clung to me like rot.
They knew. Of course they knew. Paige's sharp gaze flicked over me, her lips twitching as if she were holding back a question. Darcelle's silence was too precise, too knowing. And Nathaniel—
Nathaniel's stare pinned me like a hawk sizing its prey. Dark, calculating, burning before he looked away, expression carved in stone.
At least… no one said anything. Not even him.
I forced my chin high, as if defiance could smother the heat on my face. Still, for the rest of the journey, I couldn't shake it. The heavy sound of boots behind me, steady, unyielding. Nathaniel's. He kept just close enough to be noticed, just far enough to infuriate me. Shadowing me. Why? I didn't know. But my stomach twisted with every step.
---
Ardenfel
The city bellowed a welcome of chaos.
Vendors shouted from both sides, their voices clashing into a wall of noise. Children darted between wagons, dogs barked, horses snorted. The air smelled of roasting meat, of sweat, of smoke curling from smithies. Lanterns flared as the sun slipped lower, dyeing the streets in bruised colors.
"Bloody hell," I muttered. "How are we supposed to find an inn before dark in this mess?"
"We won't." Paige, with her bossy tone and hands firmly on her hips, was already surveying the maze of streets like she owned them. "Stay here." She pointed at a food stall across the road. "I'll look for a place that won't empty our purses or poison us in our sleep."
Without waiting for agreement, she marched off.
Darcelle slid into a chair at the stall, her quietness so firm it dared anyone to argue. Xavier scampered behind her like a child chasing candy, plopping down and ordering noodles before his bottom even hit the bench.
I turned, and sure enough—Nathaniel was still there. Still behind me. Still watching.
"When the hell do you plan to sit?" I snapped. "Or do you plan to follow me all your life?"
The bastard smirked lazily, his voice a dagger dipped in honey. "Turns out you're not worthless after all."
My eye twitched. I was never worthless. But he'd already sauntered past me to sit, as if the conversation were beneath him.
"Elisha," Darcelle's voice cut through the heat, calm but firm. "Stop drowning in self-pity. Sit down before it kills you."
Xavier snorted so hard noodles nearly flew out his nose.
Grinding my teeth, I sat. Of course, the only chair left was beside Nathaniel. Of course.
---
The Guest House
By the time Paige returned, night had smothered the city. "Not an inn," she announced, sweeping hair from her damp forehead. "A guest house. Affordable. Two streets from here."
Nathaniel surprised everyone by saying, "That will do."
The table fell into silence. Paige blinked at him like he'd just sprouted feathers, but then nodded. "Good. Follow me."
The guest house stood crookedly on its foundation, lanterns swaying with moths around them. The receptionist, a hunched man with eyes like old coins, told us there were only three rooms left.
"I'll take one alone," Darcelle said immediately, quiet yet absolute.
That left two.
I moved toward Xavier, but Paige cut me off with a smile too sweet. "No. You're with Nathan. I'll share with Xavier."
My mouth fell open. "What?!"
But she was already dragging Xavier away, leaving me glaring at Nathan. His smirk deepened. He didn't need to speak. His eyes said it all: Fate chose this, not me.
---
The Room
The door shut. The silence pressed.
I whirled on him. "Why didn't you claim a room first? You should've said something! Now I'm stuck with you!"
Nathan leaned back on the bed like a king on his throne. "Relax. I'm not sharing a bed with a lowlife. I'll take this. You can sleep wherever."
"Oh, how generous." I stalked closer, fists curled. "Not like I wanted to share anyway. Scoot over, you arrogant ass."
His gaze cut to me, sharp as a blade. "If you want to sleep tonight, behave."
I barked a laugh, snatching a pillow from the closet. "Behave? You're lecturing me? Unbelievable."
"Pathetic," he muttered, scoffing.
I slammed the pillow on the far side of the bed and turned my back to him.
The bathroom door clicked. Water began to run.
Minutes passed. Then thirty. Then nearly an hour.
Steam billowed beneath the crack of the door. My patience snapped.
---
The Bathroom
I shoved the door open.
And froze.
Nathaniel reclined in the tub like a statue the gods themselves had carved. Dark hair clung wet against his temples. His chest rose and fell steadily, skin gleaming in the steam. Strong. Perfectly sculptured. Beautiful beyond reason.
My breath hitched.
Then his eyes snapped open, sharp and burning.
He sat upright, startled, and for the most ridiculous moment I imagined him clutching his chest like some maiden caught indecent. The image nearly broke me into laughter.
I scoffed instead, leaning against the frame. "What the hell are you doing, giving birth? You've been in here nearly an hour."
His frown deepened. "How long do you plan to stand there staring at me?"
I smirked, stepping forward. "Depends. How long do you plan to hog the bath? Unless…" My grin sharpened. "…I join you. Then we're both satisfied."
He shot up too quickly, water sloshing, and my eyes widened. A full-grown man, utterly bare, stood before me.
Time stopped.
Realization hit him like a hammer, and he turned away, sinking back into the water, shoulders stiff. Embarrassed.
Nathaniel—the cold, arrogant Nathaniel—embarrassed.
I bit my lip to hide the grin and slipped into the other end of the tub. The heat melted into me, washing away years of grime. "Last time I had hot water was at the academy," I murmured. My eyes wandered to his back. Scars marred the skin, deep and jagged. "What happened there?"
"Shut up." His voice was sharp as he rose, dripping, and wrapped a towel around his waist.
I smirked. "No need to hide. I've already seen everything."
His glare could've set fire to the water.
---
Nicknames
Later, sprawled on the bed with wet hair soaking the pillow, I heard his voice.
"Why are you on the bed?"
I cracked one eye. "Because I'm sleeping."
"Dry your hair, you dog."
I shot upright. "Dog?! Weakling, worthless, pathetic, and now dog? Do you have a problem with nicknames?"
He turned, loose hair swinging, eyes unreadable. "You are a dog."
I jabbed a finger at him. "You could call me Eli. Or Lisha. Or White-haired. Or Charming Eyes. That one's nice."
"It's convenient to call you dog." He turned away.
I yanked the blanket off him. "Don't ignore me."
He stiffened. "Careful. I don't recall giving you the right to speak to me like that."
I grinned, lowering my voice. "Careful. I remember seeing you naked. That could slip."
He froze. For the first time, hesitation cracked his mask.
Then, with a huff, he muttered, "That's why you're a dog."
I gaped. "What?!"
But he was already pretending to sleep.
---
Morning
Something tapped my cheek. I groaned.
Again. Harder.
I opened my eyes—and nearly screamed. Nathan was poking my face with the hilt of his sword.
I slapped it away. "What the hell?!"
"Get up, lazy dog."
"Don't call me dog!"
"Fine. Ex-raider. Get up, filthy pervert."
I sat up, fuming. "One: don't call me ex-raider. Two: filthy pervert?! Absolutely unacceptable. You're awful at nicknames."
His brow arched. "Who in their right mind wants to be called Lisha or White-haired? Idiot."
I grabbed my towel and stomped toward the bathroom. "You don't get to call me stupid, stupid!"
By the time I emerged, the others were already at the reception, gathered around a table with steaming bowls.
Paige had a map sprawled open, finger tracing a winding path. Xavier leaned too close, nearly dropping broth on the parchment. Darcelle sipped tea in silence.
I slid into the chair beside Xavier, ignoring the dark gaze I felt burning from across the table.
If I looked at Nathaniel now, I wasn't sure if I'd punch him… or laugh.The map stretched across the table, its edges weighted by bowls and mugs to keep it from folding back. Paige, with her usual air of self-appointed authority, tapped at routes with her finger, explaining distances, borders, and paths like she was the commander of a fleet.
I lasted… maybe five minutes. My brain was melting.
I leaned toward Xavier, nudging his shoulder. "If we keep this up, we'll break before we even get to the next town."
He stifled a laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. Paige's glare swung toward us, sharp as daggers. But after a while—even she sighed and said we needed a break.
So, for once, we all agreed. We left the guesthouse and stepped into Ardenfel properly.
---
The Streets of Ardenfel
Ardenfel was chaos in motion. Stalls overflowed with bright silks, roasted nuts, and sharp-smelling spices. Street performers juggled knives while children darted between legs like shadows. It was noisy, crowded, alive.
Xavier immediately gravitated toward food stalls, tugging my sleeve every few seconds—"Elisha, look! Fried dumplings!"—as if I was his babysitter. Darcelle drifted quietly, her dark hair and stillness an eerie contrast to the bustling street. Paige marched in front, pretending not to enjoy herself, but her eyes betrayed her fascination with everything shiny.
Nathan, of course, walked at the edge of the crowd, aloof, his gaze half-bored, half-dangerous, as though everything here was beneath him.
---
The Weapons Stall
We eventually stopped at a weapon seller's shop, the kind with racks of swords gleaming in the sun and an intimidating array of steel tools that screamed "bad decisions."
"I need a weapon," I muttered.
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "What kind, boy?"
"Spear." My voice cracked a little, but I held firm.
He led us to the spear section. Rows upon rows—single-bladed, heavy iron, ornamental ones that no sane fighter would ever use. I searched desperately until—there. A double-edged spear, its steel tips gleaming faintly blue in the sunlight. My chest tightened; it reminded me of the one I had been stripped of.
"How much?" I asked, trying to sound confident.
The man gave me a number so high I swore my hair grew whiter on the spot. Xavier burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"We'll come back when he wins the lottery!" Xavier told the shopkeeper.
I glared at him, but inside I knew he was right. With a scowl, I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the weight of being weaponless.
---
The Clothing Store
Xavier, relentless as ever, dragged me to a male clothing shop next. The place smelled of fresh fabric and leather. Tunics in deep reds and blues hung neatly on carved racks, boots lined the walls, belts and cloaks stacked in tidy piles.
As Xavier busied himself arguing with a clerk over jacket sizes, my eyes wandered—and froze.
Nathan stood near the hair accessories, his long fingers brushing over silver bells. He examined them with a strange stillness, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it. It clicked—he did wear bells sometimes, the faint chime accompanying his movements like whispers of his presence.
Something about the sight unsettled me. He looked… human. Not the arrogant bastard he usually was, but a man who cared about small, delicate things.
I looked away quickly, pretending to be utterly fascinated with a row of belts that all looked the same.
"Elisha!" Xavier called, holding up two tunics to my chest. "Blue or white?"
"Neither. I'm broke."
"Blue makes your eyes pop!" he insisted.
I rolled my eyes, but let him shove the fabric against me anyway. Out of the corner of my vision, I noticed Nathan had moved on, already striding away with his usual detached arrogance, as though the moment with the bells never happened.
---
Evening at the Guesthouse
By the time we got back, the city was glowing with lantern light. Paige and Xavier disappeared into their room, laughter muffled through the thin walls. Darcelle shut herself in hers without a word.
Which left me with Nathan. Again.
He disappeared into the bathroom, and twenty minutes passed. Then forty. Then fifty.
I paced, tapping my foot. "What is he doing in there? Braiding his hair strand by strand? Writing poetry to his own reflection?!"
Finally, fed up, I grabbed a towel and barged in.
---
The Bathroom
Nathan sat in the steaming bathtub, water up to his chest. He turned sharply at my loud scoff, surprise flickering in his eyes.
For a split second, I imagined him gasping and covering his chest like a maiden caught indecent. The image made me snort. "Arrogant bastard… but damn if he isn't carved by the gods," I muttered under my breath.
His frown deepened. "How long do you plan on standing there staring?"
"The hell are you doing, giving birth in here? You've been in here an hour." I smirked, stepping closer. "Move over. Or I'll just join you."
He stood up abruptly. My eyes widened. Full-grown man. Fully naked.
I quickly looked away, chuckling like an idiot. "So even the great Nathaniel can get embarrassed."
He sat back down, facing the other way.
With a shrug, I stripped and slipped into the bath. The heat seeped into my bones—I hadn't felt warmth like this since the Academy. My gaze drifted to the scars on his back, harsh and cruel against his skin.
"What happened to you?" I asked softly.
"Shut up," he said, voice low.
I sighed. "Fine. Be mysterious."
---
The Bed Argument
Later, dressed in loose clothes, I threw myself onto the bed, wet hair plastered to my face. Nathan glanced over, disgusted.
"Why don't you dry your hair, you dog?"
"Dog?" I sat up. "First weakling, then worthless, then pathetic—now dog? Dude, you seriously need lessons in nicknames. You could call me Eli, Lisha, pretty boy, charming eyes—"
"It's easier to call you a dog," he muttered, lying down and turning away.
I tugged the blanket sharply. "Careful. Remember—I saw everything. I could tell the others."
His shoulders stiffened. Then he muttered, "That's why you're a dog."
I groaned. "What the hell!"
---
The Almost-Softness
Sleep crept over me. Through heavy lids, I felt the blanket shift. Nathan had pulled it over me, his movements quiet, careful.
"Idiot… you'll catch cold," he whispered.
I stirred but kept my eyes shut, heart skipping oddly at the sound of his voice.
For a moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—he didn't hate me.
---
A thunderous knock shattered the quiet.
"Raiders! Open up, by order of the Ardenfel guard!"
The door rattled as fists slammed against it. Paige's voice echoed faintly from the hall, startled.
Nathan sat up, hand on his sword. I jolted awake, heart hammering.
The knock came again—harder, louder.
"Open this door—or we break it down!"
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