Disclaimer: We do not own Square Enix's Final Fantasy XII, nor are we making any money off this fanfiction.
The Trial of Fire
Chapter Four
Lord Sincerity
"Zalera's ghost," Lamont cursed.
Penelo had to agree. Cliff walls cut off their escape on all sides as the wolves snarled and stalked forward. All three were scrawny and sickly, looking more like skeletons than living animals. One of them had an eye missing. The wound that had taken it was still festering and raw, but its teeth were just as sharp as the others'.
Dead, dry plants crunched underfoot as she backed away slowly. Her shoulders bumped into something. A high-pitched yelp escaped her before she recognized the silky smooth heat of sunburned skin against her shoulders—Lamont. "Well," she murmured, voice shaky but quiet to keep from startling the wolves into attack, "at least there's only three of them?"
"Look behind you," Lamont answered just as quietly.
Heart sinking, Penelo turned to look. Three more wolves and an alpha that was twice as big as the others blocked the way they'd come. Seven total; a whole pack. She'd dealt with individual wolves before. They were cowards who usually didn't attack people. At worst, they would only take on one or two people at a time, when they were starving and desperate. That only happened in the worst of the dry season.
Like they were in now.
"Do you know how to fight?" Lamont asked sotto voce. "Or any magicks?" The wolves weren't attacking yet, but they would. Right now they were just being cautious. It wouldn't last long. And with seven wolves, they wouldn't last long, either.
Penelo pushed closer to Lamont, staying back to back. "No—I never needed to. Usually I just yell at them and they run!"
"That explains much."
"Hey!" Penelo yelled. The wolves lowered their heads, growls growing louder and more threatening. She lowered her voice to a hiss. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means what it means." She felt Lamont slide down her back, and heard a metallic click. The wolves' eyes followed him suspiciously. "Just stay very, very still."
"What are you—" Lamont shoved the back of her knees, forcing them to buckle. The box with her gift fell out of her hands. Dirt and rocks scraped her palms bloody as Lamont forced her to the ground. He threw himself over her as a dark mote sailed straight up in the air, glowing black with energy.
The one-eyed wolf snarled and leapt at it. Black light exploded, throwing all of the wolves into the cliff face. Penelo shrieked and covered her head as chunks of rubble flew everywhere. The wolves started trying to stagger to their feet almost immediately. Only the alpha wolf managed it on the first try.
"Stay down!" The overheated weight of Lamont's body vanished.
A blade glittered in his hand as he threw himself at the alpha wolf. It was still unsteady, but not enough that it couldn't snap at him. Bright red cut across his forearm where its teeth slashed him. Lamont's knife sunk into the alpha's throat, ripping it open. Blood sprayed from the wound, coating its fur and Lamont. The wolf's yelp trailed off into a gurgle and it slumped to the ground, dead.
Claws scraped rock as the other six wolves started pushing themselves upright. Two of them were already standing, shaking their head to clear it. The way to the outpost was wide open.
Lamont held out his hand to her, cradling the other one against his ribs. Penelo took it and was pulled to her feet and up against his side. Blood stained his arm up to the elbow. "We need to go, before they come to their senses."
Step by slow step, they eased past the wolves. Dirty blue silk caught the fading light of sunset. The blast had thrown it against a rock. Penelo bent and scooped up the box as they edged past. Her palm stung where Lamont gripped it, pebbles grinding into the wounds, but she held on tight.
They didn't speak again to one another until they had reached the outpost. By then, Lamont's arm was bleeding more profusely than ever. While the sight of all the red made Penelo feel vaguely green, she took him gently by the elbow and steered him toward the fire in the center of the encampment. Perhaps because he was tired, he let her lead him; she didn't know, nor did she care. All she could think of was how he had saved them and ended up greatly injured because of it.
"Let me look at it," she said. She tried to get him to sit, but this time, he wouldn't budge.
"You are a surgeon now?" he asked dryly, looking at her through his lashes.
Her cheeks puffed. Slowly, trembling with the effort of keeping calm, she exhaled. "No," she said.
"Then how will you know what, precisely, you are examining?"
"I can tell if it's deep enough to need—" She trailed off as Lamont reached into a pouch at his waist and produced a small blue vial, one that looked awfully familiar. He uncorked the thing with his thumb, knocked it back in one gulp, and then tossed the empty glass into the fire hard enough that the thing shattered and made the flames turn green for all of three seconds.
"You were saying?" he said with a grimace. She'd heard the things tasted awful, but she'd never had one, so she couldn't really say for sure.
Her mouth opened—closed. She realized she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say. He was a noble, yet he carried potions around with him? The man was proving more and more this day to be a seasoned adventurer. Or, at least, that was what it seemed like. Not to mention the shady business at the dress shop…
Who was Lamont, really?
"Lamont, are you really—" He looked at her, and she found she lost her nerve. Plastering a smile on her face, she shook her head and gestured that they be on. His eyes stayed heavy on her until she took the hint to leave first, and she did so, waving at the travelers who yelled greetings.
Lamont, are you really a noble? How had that been about to slip off her tongue? It was unbelievably rude. Not that his manners had been the most gentlemanly since they'd met… however, that question was beyond unacceptable to ask. Never mind that she burned to… but he probably had a perfectly good reason for everything suspicious about him.
Maybe he had just come prepared. There was no harm in that, was there?
She thought of that weird smoky magick thing he'd done. Then she thought again of his mangled arm, by now of which looked infinitely less ghastly, and how he had saved her. She could hardly fault him for erring on the side of caution if it had come to the aid of both their lives.
The last leg of the trip to Rabanastre was done speedily and once again in mostly silence. Lamont's arm had almost healed entirely by the time they made it through the east gate, and his stride was purposeful, his eyes focused straight ahead, carrying no signs that they'd been in a scuffle except for the state of his clothes.
He was really eager to drop her off, wasn't he? Probably tired of her by then. What a source of trouble she'd been, and all because her father had foisted him off on her.
She wondered at that, that at first she'd resented him for coming with her, yet now she was reversing their roles, she was taking the blame. Did she honestly feel that sorry for him? He had rescued them… Still, did that just entirely null and void everything he had done to earn her ire beforehand?
But… she thought. Maybe beneath the surface, he's a good person…
Maybe.
"Here we are, my dear darling," Lamont announced, and Penelo blinked and looked up to find that they were indeed on her front doorstep. Had she zoned out through most of the walk there? It seemed so.
She shook free the haze coating her mind, put one hand on the doorknob, and twisted to face him. "How long are you staying?"
"Oh, I imagine just long enough to report to your father on the events, and then retire to my, however temporary, humble adobe for the evening." He tipped his head at her, a teasing smile on his lips, but she wasn't as irritated with it now as she'd been before.
It was all just a mask, wasn't it? Through the course of the day, she'd seen him serious, angry, mysterious, fiercely secretive, very brave, cranky from dehydration—in fact, most of these had overridden his usual façade of flippancy. Funny, how she'd known him for all of a day in whole, and she already knew so much about him.
"You should get cleaned," she said. "Take a bath."
"Something I can easily do in my own quarters," he replied politely, inclining his head.
Penelo frowned and leaned in until barely an inch separated their noses, staring hard at him. She had to rise up on her tip-toes to do it. Lamont didn't pull away. He just blinked and raised an eyebrow, letting her inspect him without comment.
Aloof. That's what he looked like. Like it didn't matter one way or the other to him what they did. Familiar, comfortable annoyance sparked in her. Back to civilization and he flipped around to the jerk again. Of course.
After a long, silent moment, she huffed and settled back on her feet. "Stop that."
"Stop…?" He gestured with his left hand. "Pray, elaborate."
"That." She poked him in the chest. It was firm. Very firm. Penelo yanked her thoughts back on track. "This. This whole thing where you—you act like the world is something you can brush off your shoulder. You weren't like this earlier. I liked you better when you were grumpy about the heat."
Lamont's mouth opened, then locked there, as if he couldn't think of anything to say. Slowly, it closed, and he nodded. His expression softened, losing some of the forced carelessness she was used to seeing there. "You are right. I wasn't. And I apologize. You deserve better."
It was her turn to stare. That was it? He gave in? It couldn't be that easy. Could it? Not even an attempt to side-step? "Well..." She shuffled her feet, new sandals scuffing the dirt. "Apology accepted, then."
"But—" There it was. The weasel word but. "—I really should not linger over long. Your dear father is like to make quite the spectacle of us, and I was under the impression that you do not wish such… blandishments touted so freely." Lamont smiled, a real one that touched his eyes and made her throat tighten a little. He really was handsome...
Dirty silk pressed against her stomach as she held the package close to her. The shadows were deep enough that the little entryway felt cozy and private. "Don't be ridiculous. You saved me. You should at least stay for dinner."
"Even with your father's suggestions?"
"Even with," Penelo insisted. She grabbed his arm and turned to open the door, not missing the slight wince when he thought she couldn't see. So that potion didn't heal everything? she wondered. Why isn't he playing up the wound, then? Machismo? But Lamont didn't seem the type…
"Penelo!" Her father rushed at her as soon as the door was open. She was off her feet and swung in an exuberant circle before she'd even crossed the threshold. "You were so late returning, I thought you might have decided to stay in Nalbina!" Strong arms compressed her ribs, squeezing them so tightly she couldn't breathe to reply. "Why, when I saw you two so close on the porch, I thought for sure —"
Her mother's gasp managed to get Arramis' attention before he crushed Penelo's ribs. "Lord Lamont! What happened to your arm?"
Penelo staggered as she was dropped roughly back on her feet. Arramis bustled over to Lamont, who hovered in the doorway. He held his wounded left arm against his side, looking awkward and worried for a split second. Then the mask slid back into place with a smile and a flourish.
"Merely a scratch, long since healed," Lamont insisted, gesturing at his bicep. While it appeared healed, it was still streaked with dried blood and dirt, much more than a 'scratch' could have ever accounted for. "Nothing to concern yourself with, I assure you."
She watched as her parents tutted over the wound and Lamont played the humble hero. It was like the puppet shows in the market. Emilie stretched the arm out and talked about salves and creams, while her father failed to win details from the inexplicably reticent Lamont. Everyone put on a show of some sort.
You deserve better.
"He saved me," Penelo blurted out. Lamont looked over at her with wide eyes, a flash of real surprise in his face before it shuttered again. That warmed her with a vindictive little glow where the desert sun couldn't reach. Teach him to play with her this way. "A pack of wolves attacked us on the way back, in Yardang, and he saved me. He's a hero."
Arramis looked at her, then swung around to look at Lamont with an expression best described as gleeful. "I knew it was a good choice to have you escort her!" he crowed, throwing his arms around the young lord. Lamont choked as his ribs were crushed, just the way Penelo's had been earlier. "Thank you, my Lord, thank you! This is a time to celebrate!" Two loud kisses smacked on either cheek.
Her mother took the package Penelo was still holding and set it aside. Then she smiled and wrapped her arm around Penelo's shoulders, guiding her down the hall. "We'll let them talk," she murmured. "Your father will need time to settle, and you look as though you would like a bath."
Behind them, Arramis' babbling continued unabated. "—must stay the night, I insist. I couldn't let you stay in a heartless inn—"
"Do you think Lamont will be okay?" Penelo asked, twisting to try and catch one last glimpse before she was propelled into the bathing room. If she'd known what kind of monster she was unleashing…
"He's a big, strong boy. I'm sure a little mauling won't hurt him." Emilie pushed her daughter the rest of the way inside and shut the door. The sounds from the living room vanished almost entirely. If Penelo strained, she could hear her father, but not clearly.
"I wasn't talking about the wolf bite."
"Neither was I. Now, sit down. You're half dead with exhaustion, don't think I can't tell." Silver and gold curls escaped Emilie's headscarf as she bent to fill the bathtub with water from the pump. It was made of polished white stone, with a little sachet of fire magicite waiting by the pump to heat the water. "Tell me about Lord Lamont. You certainly seem friendlier now."
Penelo blushed and sank down onto a bench, fiddling with one of her bracelets. "It's not like that—we just talked some. That's all."
"Is that what you did on the doorstep? Talked?"
"Yes!" Penelo flashed back to the doorstep, with her leaning in close. She thought of how that might have looked from the view behind a cracked shutter and blushed to the roots of her hair. "Mother! It's not like that—I like Reks! And anyway, I still think Lamont is a Slephnir's rear."
"I said the same of your father, once." The aroma of fresh flowers and mint filled the room as Emilie added a cup of scented salts and herbs to the mix. "He teased me terribly, you know, from diapers to womanhood. I wanted to murder him, and yet here we are, with a beautiful daughter, three wonderful sons, a prosperous business, and a lovely home. Funny how that happens."
Penelo slumped back against the wall, crossing her arms. "It's completely different," she insisted.
"Isn't it always?" Emilie dropped the fire magicite in the tub and straightened. "There you are. Soak that in. Take as long as you need." She patted Penelo's head before slipping out the door.
"It is!" Penelo grumbled to herself as she stripped. The places her skin had been bared were uniformly colored gray with dust, a stark contrast to the golden tan that had been protected. Her clothes were filthy, too, stained with blood from her scrapes and all over dirt. Only her new shoes were still clean, kept so by the spells in their weave.
Sighing in a resigned way, she plopped herself into the tub. Water sloshed at the edges, and she grabbed a bar of soap. It was going to take forever to get the grit out of her hair. It was a problem most days, anyway, but tonight was particularly worse. All the traveling, all the gusts of wind carrying grains of sand in them. Egh.
Her mother popped in once to deposit a change of clothes for her, and Penelo eyed them over the tub. A royal blue top to crisscross over her breasts, pantaloon pants that dipped low on her waist and cinched at the ankles, a belt with gold medallions on it, and a simple set of matching blue shoes. It was one of her dancing outfits, and she was surprised her mother had chosen it. Then her thoughts ghosted to Lamont, and she wasn't so surprised.
When she was finished bathing and smelt of the herbal mix, a heady dose of mint that cleared up her sinuses, she slipped out of the tub and toweled free. It was in the midst of this that she heard sudden raised voices from somewhere inside the house, and her father's hearty guffawing. She went to the door, pressed a hand to the wood and listened.
"Vaan!" Arramis was bellowing. "Come in, boy, come in!"
Vaan was here? Oh, gods, probably pissed, too, that she had had to cancel their day plans for that silly trip to Nalbina. He wasn't going to be pleased, and he wore his foul moods well. This wasn't going to be pleasant, and she winced at the thought.
Laughter escaped from the doorway, followed by a shout of surprise.
"Reks! You're here, too? Come in, come in! Emilie's just getting the food ready! Don't be a stranger!"
"We only stopped by to drop something off for Penelo—"
Penelo's heart fluttered at the sound of Reks' soft voice, and she pressed herself closer to the door. Reks was here, too! And they'd… brought something for her? It was nearing her birthday soon, it was true, but this was still quite early…
"Honestly, Reks, the two of you boys are like sons to me! Come in."
Suddenly Penelo was grateful for the outfit her mother had set out for her. While likely she had done it to show off to Lamont, so he could see the 'goods,' as though Penelo was on the marriage market (and to her parents at that moment, she likely was), this was also going to help her be pretty for Reks. That thought alone thrilled her to the core.
She hurriedly finished drying off and changed into the fresh set of clothes. After opening the door to peek around it, she looked both ways, then made a mad dash for her bedroom. Heart thundering, she shut the door behind her and rustled around in her room a little. Some perfume behind her ears there, more bangles on her wrists there, a pretty golden chain anklet. No rouge, that was only for her evening performances, and her mother would raise her eyebrows. She didn't want to appear too eager.
She surveyed herself in the mirror, huffing a breath and smoothing her hands over her bare stomach. Nodding in satisfaction, she opened her door much more slowly now and headed with careful steps into the center of the house. She couldn't remember the last time Reks had seen her all dressed up, and she wanted to leave a good impression. Who cared about Lamont? Though he had saved her and could prove to be sweet on the occasion, he was just a visiting lord who would be gone soon once he'd finished his business here. Reks, on the other hand… she'd harbored feelings for him for so long… ever since she was a little girl…
Boisterous voices were being raised in the den. She hesitated outside the kitchen, thinking to offer help with the food, but then she caught Reks' voice again, and she veered that way. When she rounded the corner, it was to find Arramis and Vaan laughing over some shared joke, clapping each other on the shoulders. Reks stood off the side, a half-smile on his mouth as he watched them. His eyes rose at Penelo's entrance, and his smile deepened.
She smiled back. Opened her mouth—
"Penelo." Lamont slid into her vision, grasping a hold of her arm. "A word with you?"
She tried to wrench away. No, what was he doing! She wanted to go talk to Reks! "Can't it wait—?"
"I am afraid not," he insisted, and with a little bit of force, she was stumbling back into the hallway with him. "It's of the utmost importance."
Penelo reluctantly let Lamont drag her back into one of the recessed nooks in the hallway, where her mother would store jars of water to help cool the house in the day. Gold bangles jingled as Penelo crossed her arms under her breasts. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?" she demanded.
Lamont gripped her shoulders, expression pleading. He still hadn't replaced his gloves, and the palms of his hands were warm and rough. "I beg of you, release me from dinner."
Suspicion prickled her. Penelo yanked away from his grip, frowning. "Why? You seemed to be getting along with my father just fine." She snorted. "He adores you."
He winced. "Your father has been... most generous in his... propositions. Perhaps too generous, if you understand my meaning."
At first, she didn't. It sunk in slowly, like slime through thin fabric. When the pieces finally connected, her stomach lurched. "He didn't—did he? What did you say? You don't—" Gigas' balls! Would her father go to any length to see her married off? How could he? "What did he say? Did you accept?"
"Of course I didn't!" Lamont snapped, affronted. "He did not say it in so many words, but there are precious few interpretations of the phrase 'young passions run high after times of great stress' coupled with an offer to spend the night. I have already tangled with wolves today, and have reached the end of my tolerance for peril."
At least Arramis hadn't outright sold her off, or offered Lamont her bed for the night. Penelo rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache approach. "If I let you go home, father will be offended. That's if he lets you go, which he probably won't. You don't know my father the way I do."
"Then what shall we do?" Utter, frustrated bewilderment twisted his face. It was an expression Penelo was intimately familiar with. Most people who met her father wore it. Seeing it on Lamont was a satisfying experience.
"We?" Penelo smiled sweetly and patted his cheek. Someone, likely her mother, had provided him the necessities to clean up, but not a razor. The faint scruff of a day's growth looked good on him. "There is no 'we'. You are going to go make your own excuses, and I will be locking my door tonight."
And having a long talk with her father. Good intentions or not, this sort of thing was going to stop.
Pirouetting, she turned away from him and returned to the main room. Lamont followed her at a somewhat less graceful trudge, going by the sound of his boots. Let him sulk. He'd dug his own grave by letting her father manipulate him. Staying for dinner was the least he should have to put up with.
Back in the main room, Reks had fallen into conversation with Vaan. He smiled at her over his brother's shoulder. Before she could respond, yet another person dragged her aside, this time her father. Her ribs creaked as he gave her another crushing hug.
"Penelo, my darling daughter, the joy of my life, you look wonderful!" Arramis crowed. "But you're not wearing rouge."
"That's for dancing, not dinner." Penelo squirmed from his grip, but wasn't able to win free completely. "Let me go, I want to go talk to Reks."
"Reks?" Arramis' smile flickered and faded. He was obviously still torn over which boy to shove her at. "Don't you think you should talk to the hero of the evening? I'm sure he would appreciate seeing you dressed so nicely."
From nowhere, Lamont appeared at her father's elbow, cutting off Penelo's rising anger. "I already have, just a moment ago." His eyes raked down Penelo. "Dalmascan fashion is so... immodest. An Archadian lady would never be caught in so little."
The comment seemed to catch Arramis off-guard. His grip on Penelo loosened, allowing her to whirl around. "Did you just call me a—"
"Of course not." Honeyed innocence dripped off of Lamont's tongue like venom from a viper's fangs. "The cultures are very different, after all. And, as you have shown me today, it is very functional for the clime." He smirked, a smug little grin that made her want to claw his eyes out. "You cannot be held to account for your... salacious attire."
If Lamont had wanted to be shown the door for rudeness, he'd underestimated Arramis and his determination to marry Penelo off. "We are all of us different," Arramis stammered, "but perhaps Penelo could put on a wrap—cover herself a little more..."
Rage curled through her, hot and sharp. "No. I'm comfortable like this," she snapped. "This isn't Archadia. I'm sure Lord Lamont understands."
Turning on her heel, she stalked away, ending the conversation. Lamont would probably only needle her more. He just wanted to make her angry.
It had worked. Obviously he had revenge on his mind.
She didn't stop until she'd reached the back balcony. It leaned over an alley that wasn't much to look at, but the stars were bright and clear. A chill breeze blew through the streets to bring up goosebumps on her skin. There'd be a crust of frost on the windows in the morning.
A warm afghan dropped over her head. Penelo turned, ready to snarl, only to come face to face with Reks.
"Don't you think it's a bit cold, to be out here without anything?" he asked, and leaned against the railing. The starlight touched his skin, stealing her breath. The moon wasn't up yet, so the little light there was left only a shadow of him visible. It highlighted his cheekbones and golden eyelashes.
Gods above, Reks was beautiful.
"I—I needed some air." She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, hugging it close. "Things were getting poisonous in there."
"Is it that Lord Lamont?" In the dark it was impossible to tell, but she thought she saw him frown. "Is he bothering you? Do you want me to talk to him?"
"No—I mean, not really." Penelo took a spot on the balcony at Reks' shoulder. His heat seeped through the blanket, warming her. "It's my father being… you know. I don't think Lamont likes it either."
"I saw you yell at him."
Was Reks being jealous? Penelo could almost forgive Lamont for everything if it got Reks to notice her. "He said I dress salaciously," she offered, waiting hopefully for Reks to charge off to defend her honor.
Instead, he laughed and nudged her with his elbow. "Is that all? Archadians are all stuffed shirts. I thought it'd been something serious."
Grumbling, Penelo twisted her fingers in the afghan. Love him though she did, she reminded herself, it didn't mean that she had to like everything he said. "It upset me. Isn't that serious enough?"
"Yeah… Yeah, it is." Reks cleared his throat and shifted away from her, leaving a cold patch on her arm. "Speaking of upsetting you… I shouldn't have assumed you would want to marry Vaan. I'm sorry."
Penelo shook her head and quickly put her hand on his arm instead. He wouldn't look at her, so she pressed onward, bravery suddenly swelling inside of her heart. "No, Reks, don't you know that you're the one who…" But her courage faltered there as her throat closed up, and she found she couldn't speak any longer. She swallowed. The lump wouldn't budge.
After a few careful moments, Reks turned his head back to her. "…Penelo?" he ventured.
She loved him. She loved him so incredibly much, and she knew he didn't know, even though he should have, even though it was obvious to everyone else except maybe Vaan. She wanted him to know. She thought her entire body was singing it to him right then. Why couldn't he see it?
Shouldn't her love have been enough that it could reach out to him, envelop him whole, enough for him to bask in it? There'd be no doubt at all, then. Or had the thought ever even occurred to him? Was she forever doomed to be like the sister he never had? If he cared an ounce about her that way, would he have tried to get her to marry his brother?
"Penelo?" he said again, this time in the barest of whispers.
She searched his eyes desperately, hoping—hoping… there was confusion there, and… was there anything else…? Could there possibly for once just be anything else…?
His fingers came to cover hers, and he squeezed, and as he did so, her heart mimicked the action to the point of pain. It settled in her throat with that lump, and she had to close her eyes against a sudden flash of warmth. No, no. She was being a ninny. It wouldn't do for him to see her cry.
"Hey, guys, it's time for dinner!" Vaan announced, ambling out onto the balcony with them. He looked rather grumpy, probably because he'd been left alone with her father and Lamont. Or he could still be angry with her. She knew he had to be. He wasn't even meeting her eyes.
Reks let her go. "We should get inside where it's warmer. Come on, Penelo." He headed inside without a glance back, and her heart sank. He really had no idea.
That left her alone with Vaan. She thought maybe she could make it past without a word from him, but he stopped her short with his hand on her shoulder. She froze in place, not wanting to deal with him at that moment but also not wanting to cause another scene. Slowly, after a moment, his hand gave a gentle push, and she backed up near the railing. He followed suit, his head bent low to hers.
"Do you like him?"
Penelo's heart began to beat wildly at the murmur. Did he know? Did he know she was in love with his brother? Oh, gods, how embarrassing! And now he was going to tell her—what? That she was way out of her league? She knew that already… Actually, no, she couldn't think of Vaan's reaction. Funnily enough, she'd never pondered it before.
"That Lamont guy," he said more firmly. "Do you like him?"
"What?" she sputtered in surprise. At the same time, stark relief took her. Good. Vaan was still oblivious. "No!"
"Then why's your dad so insistent on getting the two of you together?" Like this, she couldn't see him. He had his nose near her temple, his lips at her ear, his eyes hidden from view. His hand had moved to her bicep, a spot of warmth against the chill. She wanted to push him away, because he was seriously invading her personal space, but he was her friend, and she didn't want to hurt him.
"I don't know," she replied, "why is he so insistent on trying to get me and you together or me and Reks?"
Vaan was quiet for a long, long time, and she didn't know what to make of it. Finally, he started to pull free, and she was relaxing—but then—
"Would it be so bad?" he whispered.
Her brows came together to knit above her nose. What was he talking about…? "Would what be so bad?" she said, and the words were loud in comparison to how low he'd been talking. She had a sudden fear of being overheard, although she didn't know what for. It wasn't like it was a conversation best kept private. They were just talking about her weirdo father and whether or not she liked Lamont.
In any case, Vaan wasn't acting like himself. She nudged at him, impatient to get back inside with Reks. Not to mention how hungry she was. She could have eaten a whole hyena at that point, and he was blocking the way. "Vaan, let's go inside. It's cold out here!"
"Tell me, Penelo." Vaan stared at her, like he was trying to tell her something with his eyes. "Please?"
Penelo's mouth went dry. She thought she saw… But no. That was stupid. This was just Vaan, the boy she used to hurl mudpies at when they were little. It couldn't be that. She shoved again, and he stepped out of the way, grip loosening. Before her chance was gone, she pushed past him, only turning when she had a clear line for the door.
On the balcony, surrounded by starlight and shadows, the resemblance between Vaan and his brother was uncanny. They had the same messy blond hair, cut only a little differently, and the same broad shoulders. Even their clothing, guard's leathers, was alike. He didn't say anything, or even move to break the illusion. Penelo's heart rose to her throat as she stared at him. Vaan was beautiful, too.
Why didn't I notice before?
Flustered, Penelo turned and bolted through the door, leaving Vaan alone under the stars.
Vaan followed Penelo inside a few minutes later. Whatever good temper he might have had had evaporated. He plopped down in his chair at the table and crossed his arms, storm clouds on his brow. Reks leaned over to whisper something, then recoiled at whatever Vaan's reply was. Clearly, even his brother wasn't exempt from Vaan's foul mood.
Unsubtly, Penelo's place was opposite Reks, next to Lamont. The table wasn't large enough to give them all room to stretch out, so even a small shift meant that his knee brushed hers. The first time it happened, shivers thrilled up her skin and her breath caught.
Penelo tried not to move.
"This is excellent, ma'am," Reks complimented her mother, using his fork to indicate the baked fish on his plate. It was a Nebra Succulent, though how Emilie had found six of them on short notice would remain a mystery. "Did you use mint?"
While Penelo beamed at Reks, her mother only smiled mysteriously. "A good cook always keeps some secrets," Emilie replied. "How else am I to make sure you'll come back for more?"
"I do not think you should worry," Lamont cut in gracefully. "Even if your recipe is discovered, the company is equally superb, and irreplaceable."
This time, it was Arramis' turn to preen. Vaan glared sullenly across the table, but his mouth was too full to reply through the food. Normally he would have just spoken through the food, but Emilie would rap his knuckles for it.
Reks didn't seem upset by Lamont stealing his compliment, but Penelo glared at the lordling for him. It didn't surprise her at all that he would try and butter up her mother with flattery. People like him did that sort of thing.
"Reks is an excellent cook," she announced, doing her best to derail the conversation before Lamont could get in any more compliments. "He made soup for Sorbet that was absolutely delicious, and he made this sort of chocolate dessert that's amazing."
Red flooded Reks' cheeks. "It's not anything special," he muttered, ducking his head, but Penelo was sure she saw a pleased smile. "Just something I put together."
"Can you cook, Lamont?" Vaan asked suddenly. "Or do you just pay people to do things like that for you?"
"Vaan!" Reks scolded, but Lamont just laughed.
"Yes, I usually have servants, save when I travel." He grinned at Vaan. It was sharp, and not at all friendly. "But I can cook enough that I do not starve when on my own. I've no great skill, however. Certainly I am not as talented as Emilie, here."
And… back to her mother. Emilie paused, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth, and took a moment to send Lamont another smile with raised eyebrows. It was her only acknowledgment of the compliment, however, and Penelo found herself doing a mental celebratory dance. Go, Mom, go, Mom, put him in his place!
Why was he focusing on her mother, though? Was it just easy? Was he trying to show up the others? "Don't let Lord Lamont fool you," Penelo said. "He says he doesn't starve himself, but that's a flat out lie."
Arramis raised his glass of ale. "What do you mean, Penelo, dear?"
Lamont was shooting her daggers over his own glass, however discreetly. He didn't want the others to see what an ass he could be when he really put his mind to it. Penelo smiled sweetly at him and laid her hand upon his forearm. This was going to be fun. Let Lamont be under the roaster for once.
"It happened while we were in Nalbina. Lord Lamont's clothes were somehow much too stifling for the desert sun, and he found himself dehydrated with a hearty appetite. When I asked if he'd like to eat or get some water, he denied me on both accounts."
Contrary to the irritation she expected him to show those present at the table, he only slowly set his cup down and fastened a beatific smile in place. "Darling, did I not tell you to address me sans title?" It instantly took the focus out of her announcement and created another one entirely.
Her father shifted in his seat at the head of the table, and all eyes swiveled toward them expectantly. Penelo found herself the center of attention for reasons she'd rather not have, and she stared at Lamont as she tried to figure out what game he was playing. Didn't he know that this would just make her parents badger him to take her away to his lordly estate even more?
I don't get it, she thought. What was he about?
"You did," she said, clearing her throat once she realized it was required of her to say something. "But I felt it would be… inappropriate, all things considered. You're a lord, and I'm just a common girl." Hastily, she turned to the closest person she could talk to, which was Vaan, and the darkness lurking in his eyes surprised her enough that she jerked back in her seat.
"I do not think of matters in such black and white terms," Lamont was saying, though he seemed very far away. He continued on, though Penelo had no idea what he was speaking of at that point. She was too focused on Vaan and how… pissed off he was.
What was his problem now?
"It's obvious you're making Penelo uncomfortable," Reks said suddenly at Penelo's left, and she snapped back to attention, looking at him, same as the rest of the table. Reks had said it softly, but it carried through Lamont's carefully crafted speech nonetheless. "Regardless of whether or not you don't feel the social boundaries, Penelo does, and as a gentleman…" Here, Reks let his gaze travel up from his plate and over to the lord in question. "…You should let the matter drop. You're not going to change her mind in a single night. Some social cultures have been practiced since the time of our births, and not all gentry feel the same as you do. So you'll forgive us if we're not so quick to relish in the same viewpoint."
"Yeah, what if the next lord who comes along isn't as open about it as you are?" Vaan said, clearing his throat. He and his brother exchanged a look, and then Vaan stood, gathering his plate. "Emilie, do you mind if I get seconds?"
Penelo's mother waved him on. Vaan disappeared around the corner, into the kitchen, and for some reason, Penelo's heart felt heavy. Things were happening here, things she wasn't entirely clear on, and she didn't have a single idea on what to do about them.
Lamont's eyes fell on Reks, his smile turning stiff. If Penelo hadn't learned so much about him on their trip, she wouldn't have even noticed. He had almost total control of his expression. "Even amongst the very high born, titles are not used between friends."
"Are you friends, then?" Reks challenged, glancing over at Penelo and then back at Lamont. "She doesn't seem to think so."
Muscles tightened in Lamont's jaw. "I certainly do not risk my life for just anyone."
Her father and Reks both looked at her, one hopefully and the other curiously. In her chair, Penelo squirmed, not sure what to do. It seemed like they were arguing, but she was starting to feel like a piece of meat between two dogs. Flattery warred with irritation, and she sunk back in her chair, trying to decide which emotion would win.
"Maybe we're friends. Kind of," she muttered, not meeting any of their eyes. Silverware clanged against her plate as she fiddled with it. "But I don't want to get above my station."
"Nonsense." Lamont put his hand on top of hers. It was warm and callused against her skin, surprisingly rough for a lord. She looked up, and found him smiling at her, his green eyes crinkled at the corners. For once, it was a real smile, like he hadn't worn since they'd walked through the front door. "I am honored to consider you a friend."
Even though she knew he was a slimeball, and that he was just using her to score points against Reks, Penelo's heart fluttered. The bastard was handsome, she had to give him that. And when he looked at her that way, she could almost believe he was sincere.
"I… Thank you, my lord," Penelo stammered, ducking her head to stare down at her plate. "You're too kind." Her face was bright red with a blush that only got worse the longer Lamont held her hand. No matter how hard she tried to make herself take it back, it wouldn't budge.
"Honesty is far from kindness," Lamont replied, but it was almost lost in the rush of blood to her head. "I am at your service."
As the seconds ticked by, she started to become aware of someone staring holes into the back of her head. She twisted in her seat and glanced behind her. It was Vaan, glaring at her from just around the corner to the kitchen. His teeth were clenched, and his plate gripped so tightly that the muscles in his forearms bulged.
What was his problem, anyway? Was he still angry about how she missed their day together? It wasn't like she'd had a choice!
Anger twisted inside her chest, replacing the flutter with cool calculation. She'd show Vaan.
Twisting her hand around so she and Lamont were palm to palm, Penelo pasted on her sweetest smile. "Actually, Lamont, I do have one thing to ask. Would you like to have dinner some time?"