Chapter 7
The Rising Tide
The inn's common room was warm, the soft chatter from a handful of patrons lingering in the air. Nova sat beside Aveth at a table clutching a mug in her hands. As her gaze wandered over the sparse occupants with habitual vigilance, she took a sip of her tea. She savored the earthy flavor, laced with just a hint of something floral. Reina had recommended it the other night as a somewhat more grounding substitute for alcohol, and Nova found she had to agree. She swirled the steaming liquid in her mug, thoughts lingering on the woman. It would be nice to talk to her right now. But George said she would be gone for a time. Something about a temple or some such place? Nova hadn't really been paying attention, she just remembered the crushing disappointment. But perhaps it was for the best, the warrior reflected. Even after taking the time to clean the blood and grime from her armor, she was fairly sure she still smelled like a forge.
Above them, in a separate room from their own, Ironheel rested as comfortably as his condition allowed. The meager potions Aveth had been able to procure for him worked with an almost painful lethargy. But at the very least, the man's swelling had gone down enough for his second eye to become… slightly visible.
Nova took another sip of her tea. Almost as if by unspoken cue, Aveth stood and walked casually to the stairs once more, turning for the wounded man's room. Last time had come with the excuse of making sure Ironheel had water. Now Aveth didn't bother. She gave a small, private smirk. That made four trips. Four in the span of two cups of tea. She almost felt bad for Ironheel. That man would be lucky to get a heartbeat of sleep with such a mothering hen in his shadow. But then again… maybe it was just something that Aveth wished someone had bothered to do for him. The thought sobered her and stole the smile from her face.
Aveth returned shortly, offering no comment. She reached over and wordlessly gripped his forearm. He looked over to her, the corner of his mouth lifting almost sheepishly.
Nova returned her hand to her teacup as the door opened and a swell of laughter washed into the room. A quintet of men entered, jubilant smiles plastered on their faces. The largest of them carried a hefty, wood frame pack, his massive muscles straining under its weight.
"George!" called the man in the lead, cupping a hand to his full, black beard.
The call was echoed by the likewise black haired teen beside him.
George stuck his head out the kitchen door, brow furrowed. As he laid eyes on the party however, a great grin gained purchase across his grizzled features.
"Wulf, you son of a hoarker! How in the Gods' names are you?" he bellowed, rushing around the counter and throwing his arms wide. They embraced with an exchange of hardy slaps to the back.
"Damn good!" the other man triumphed. "And you'll never guess why!"
George flashed a dastardly grin.
"You finally grew a-"
"No!" Wulf roared quickly with a lashing strike to the innkeeper's shoulder. "My lad here got his first kill! Biggest elk you ever did see! And he took it down himself!"
George's mouth formed a silent 'o' at the news before beaming.. He looked to the youth whose shoulders were hunched at the attention, but whose smile rivaled the innkeeper's.
"I… got lucky," he muttered.
"Lucky nothing!" Wulf refuted.
"Great job!" George praised, offering the lad a clap on the shoulder.
Wulf echoed the gesture.
"Now! That brute was so big, my lads and I won't be able to eat the lot of it before it turns rank." Wulf said, pointing a thumb toward the men behind him. "So I thought I'd throw some of it your way. You know, In place of a certain debt I owe you."
"In place of your considerable tab, you mean," George smirked, raising an eyebrow. Still, he walked around to the man carrying the hefty sack and peered within.
"Well I'll be an orc's uncle," the innkeeper muttered, sounding pleased.
"We even cut it into strips for you," Wulf continued. "If that ain't worth something, I don't know what is."
"Wait," George muttered. "You did something considerate for another person?"
The innkeeper received another strike on his shoulder.
"Shut it," the hunter grumbled.
"This is perfect, Wulf," George said, lifting the pack free before he paused. "But what say you, lad? This is your kill. You alright with this?"
The youth looked startled to be asked, then calmed.
"Oh... Yes. That's not even half of him. We have plenty. And if it gets Da square with you, it's great by me."
"Then I'll cook it up this very night! We'll have venison stew by the bucket! Come by for a bowl, on the house, all of you!" George insisted, slinging the massive pack over one shoulder.
"It's a deal," Wulf nodded, clasping George's shoulder as he passed. His ensemble filtered out behind him until the inn was quiet once more.
"Got enough meat there, George?" Nova quipped, unable to resist.
"Oh you don't even know," he refuted. "We'll be eating venison for days."
"Not after I get done with it," Aveth challenged, folding his arms.
"We'll see about that," George said, eyes narrowing as his smirk only widened.
Aveth's responded with a raised eyebrow and a defiant grin.
The innkeeper loosed a chuckle.
"Don't fret then. I've got all the ingredients I need, and with the work they've done? It won't take me but a moment to have it all cut up and get the stew to boil." He took three steps toward the kitchen before he stopped short and swore. "Blast it all! And I told Reina to hurry back and help tonight."
Nova perked. Reina?
"I'll let her know," she said, rising from her chair before she was aware the words left her mouth.
"Would you?" George sighed. "Thank you. I appreciate it. There'll be warm rolls waiting for you when you get back."
"Well then I'd better hurry," Nova grinned, pretending not to see the smirk that Aveth was directing her way. One of these days she was going to feed him his own boots.
Reina hurried out of the temple, smacking into something solid as she went. No match for the immovable object, she stumbled backwards only to be caught by a strong arm around her waist.
"You are always in a hurry," Nova smirked, helping to right her and trying without success not to notice the feel of her arm around that lovely waist before retracting her limb.
Reina pushed the stray hairs from her face.
"I… sorry!" she winced.
"Are you alright?" Nova asked, brushing aside the apology with a smile.
"Me? I crashed into you!" Reina protested.
"Armor," Nova pointed out, tapping her dark chest plate.
"Oh..." Reina murmured, nodding to herself. "But still."
"It's fine," Nova assured. She looked from the young woman to the setting sun. "Are you on your way back to the inn?"
"Yes, I'm supposed to help Dad with the dinner tonight since Luke can't." Reina hesitated a moment, biting her lip as she stared first at the warrior, then the inn's general direction. "I'll... see you there, excuse me!"
Nova caught her delicate wrist. Reina turned back to her, eyes wide in puzzlement.
"First," Nova chuckled. "Your father received a large amount of meat from hunters in payment of a tab. He plans to serve that and says you don't need to hurry back."
A smile bloomed on Reina's face at the words.
"Second," Nova continued, "You won't get very far without your shoes."
Reina's eyes flashed down to her bare feet before an exasperated groan left her.
"Not again!"
She vanished into the temple once more. Nova moved to stand with her back to the building's wall as she waited. Time eked by, until Nova was sure either the shoes were in another plane of existence or Reina was lost. Or dead. Probably dead. Definitely dead. Nova needed to find the threat and-
She whirled through the doorway, left hand on her scabbard. Yet the tension in her shoulders melted away when she saw the innkeeper's daughter beside Healer Lee, chatting with a wide smile on her face. The warrior scoffed at herself and fell back against the shadowed wall. She stood attentively as the two spoke, the words of little concern to her. One hand rested casually on her sword, the other at her side, while her eyes scanned the room. Old habits she refused to break.
The windows lost the last lingering light of the day before Reina turned around. She made it two steps before jumping in surprise.
"Nova! You didn't have to wait!" she fretted.
"It's dangerous for a lady to walk the streets at night by herself," the warrior replied factually. "I'll accompany you."
Reina opened her mouth, trying to form a response.
"I… well... thank you. But this city isn't like that," she protested.
"Every city is like that," Nova returned grimly, pulling open the door. "You simply have to look."
"You must have seen a lot of places then," Reina mused, following her out into the street.
"More than you can imagine," Nova returned, the corner of her lip lifting in a mixture of scorn and wry humor.
"Really?" Reina asked eagerly. "Where was the prettiest place? Oh, no. Where's the wickedest? Oh! What about the most fun?"
Nova turned to her and raised an eyebrow as they walked.
"Which would you like answered first?" she quipped dryly.
"In order, please," Reina smiled happily.
Nova chuckled and shook her head as she cast her eyes skyward.
"Alright then," she shrugged, stifling a sigh. "I suppose the 'prettiest' place, aside from my home, was the Imperial City in Cyrodiil, though I visited it long ago."
"Where is your home?" Reina wondered.
Nova opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated.
"Nowhere you've ever heard of," she evaded.
"Aw come on," Reina sighed in disappointment.
Nova grimaced, but relented.
"It's a large island off the northeastern coast of Skyrim."
"Oh! Solstheim!" the other woman said triumphantly.
"No, much farther east than that," Nova corrected. "But to be fair, I doubt one could find it on a map."
"Oh, I'm so jealous!" Reina replied. When the warrior turned to her with an inquiring gaze, she continued. "I've always dreamed about seeing the ocean! What's it like? Is it warm? Cold? Do you see many fish? How blue is it really?"
Nova blinked at the onslaught.
"Um… it's… the ocean."
Reina slapped her arm playfully, regretting the action as she collided with the woman's armor.
"Ow," she winced before launching a protest. "That doesn't answer anything!"
"Maybe you should ask one question at a time."
"Impossible," the woman grinned.
"I noticed," Nova returned, not bothering to hide the smirk on her lips.
They fell into companionable silence, passing a lit brazier on a street corner and continuing onward toward the inn.
"So it's just you and Mister Aveth?" Reina asked.
"You don't have to address him formally, but yes."
"That must be fun," the woman continued flashing a coy smirk, though something lingered behind the look.
Nova grimaced as if a three day old fish were shoved under her nose.
"It's not like that," she refuted.
"So he has someone back home?" she asked, unable to fight the teasing grin that spread across her face.
"No, but-"
"So you have someone back home."
"Well… erm… no, I-"
"So-"
"Reina!" Nova interrupted sharply. She stared at the woman pointedly until Reina held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.
"You're way too easy to tease," Reina giggled. "And look at you blush!"
"I'm not blushing, I'm enraged," Nova deadpanned.
"Hm, don't think so."
Nova deflated slightly. Did everyone have a magical power to read her emotions? Not. Fair.
"Oh look!" Nova declared in an overly loud voice as they reached the inn. "We're here! You should go in and say hello to your father."
Reina laughed heartily and threw her arms around Nova.
"Thanks for walking me home," she said, then grinned deviously. "It was fun!"
Nova blinked.
"Sure?" The word was long, drawn out with an unerring tone of confusion, but her arms wrapped around the flaxen-haired woman nonetheless. She was probably holding Reina too tightly… But it felt… nice. More than nice. And Reina didn't seem to mind at all.
At length, the innkeeper's daughter pulled back and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears, a sweet smile on her face. "I'll see you inside," she promised softly before vanishing into the common room. Nova's stomach instantaneously felt like she'd eaten a swarm of butterflies. She stood out in the night a moment longer, blinking.
"I did nothing to warrant a hug," the warrior posed to the empty air. This place must have strange customs, she mused. Yes… that was it. Nova nodded several times and hurried for her room, cheeks burning.
A knock sounded on her door. It was far too soft for Aveth, and what's more, Nova doubted he would bother.
"Come," she bid.
Reina stepped into the room, shutting the door behind herself. In her hand was a small basket with a cloth draped over it. The warrior's heart skipped a beat, then stumbled to catch up with itself.
"Dad said he owed you rolls," she said simply, staring at Nova with her warm, green eyes.
She'd changed clothes, Nova noted almost absently. Gone was the burnt orange robe, replaced by her long, brown skirt and tan top with its frilled sleeves. She simply shrugged, figuring the woman wore whatever was comfortable when she wasn't working. Besides, she looked exquisite in anything. Nova paused, and almost chastised her mind for the thought, but that one… that one deserved to be thought. Several times. Along with… oh, no, she was staring wasn't she?
"Thank you," Nova blurted with a forced laugh. "I hadn't actually planned on holding him to that." She accepted the rolls regardless and turned to set them on the dresser beside her armor, which was in the process of being cleaned beyond "probably fine" and "not as smelly" toward "actually clean".
Reina's gasp had her rounding at once, hand going for her sword at her hip... which was currently leaning against the wall, waiting its turn to be tended.
"What?" Nova demanded, scanning the room.
"Your arm!" Reina winced, rushing forward and taking the warrior's left elbow in hand. She lifted it tenderly, wincing anew at the line of raw, red skin cutting across the back of Nova's upper arm.
Nova twisted, barely managing to catch a glimpse before a stinging pain shot up her arm.
"Spirits!" she grimaced. "How in the Ancestors' names did I manage that?"
"It looks like a burn," Reina commented, fishing a hand into her skirt pocket before pulling out a tiny jar. She snapped open the lid and dipped her finger inside among what looked like yellowy wax. "Do you have a strip of cloth?" she asked.
Nova immediately offered the one she'd been using to tend her armor.
"A clean one!" Reina insisted, the edge of a rebuke in her tone.
Nova flashed her a devious smirk and opened a drawer to retrieve the desired item, passing it over.
Reina simply rolled her eyes in response, fighting down a rueful smile. She applied the thick salve with a remarkably delicate hand as the smell of lavender and a handful of other, less easily defined scents filled the room. The back of her mind prickled with a faint thought as she worked. It almost felt like she'd done this before... many times, actually. A vague image flitted behind her eyes. White stone surrounded them, cold air biting at her. Yet she'd ignored it then, her focus fixed on a trio of gashes clawed down Nova's arm. No words, just an ache in her chest for the sight. Reina blinked and mentally shook away her daydreaming. She scoffed at herself, turning her attention back to the pale salve as she lifted the cloth to wrap around it.
"Don't worry, this stuff's pretty good. I can attest to that, and between Dad and me in the kitchen? I like to keep it on hand."
Nova watched her work with rapt attention. Indeed, she wondered how the other woman couldn't hear her heartbeat. To Nova, it resounded like the thundering drum of a horse's hooves. And she really, really, really wanted to tuck that strand of hair behind Reina's ear. The woman didn't seem to notice as she tied off the bandage and looked up. Or… maybe she had. Because she wasn't looking at Nova with confusion, nor did she seem perturbed. No, it was stalwart, steady. Those vibrant eyes staring into her own.
"Are you alright?" Reina whispered, setting a careful hand above the bandage. "It looks like you were in a battle."
But Nova didn't hear the words. Her mind was blank. Instead, she wrapped her mended arm around Reina's waist, pulling her closer. Her other hand came up to rest on the woman's cheek, running her thumb across the soft expanse. Reina issued a contented sigh that nearly sent Nova's absent mind spiraling.
"Thank you," she managed softly, nodding toward the bandage. She felt Reina's arm wrap around her waist in kind and the sensation sent her thunderous heart into a somersault.
"You're cute when you blush," Reina smirked, her voice a low whisper.
The statement struck her like a dragon crash-landing through the roof. Words. She would really like to be able to use words. But right now, all she could think about were those sweet lips and-
Footsteps out in the hall heralded the sharp knock on the door. Nova jumped with a start, releasing Reina and stepping back out of the woman's grasp. Now that was Aveth! He opened the door and offered her an apologetic grimace, stepping inside. George entered on his heels not a heartbeat later.
"There you are," the innkeeper triumphed to his daughter. "Could you help me get things set up?" The smile didn't hide the fact that his narrowed eyes shifted from the warrior, to Reina, and back again.
"Sure," Reina nodded, casting a single glance to Nova before her father ushered her out of the room and they vanished.
Aveth closed the door after them.
Nova glared at him, waves of heat veritably roiling from her. Aveth only stared back calmly.
"George was looking for her," he replied in an almost offhand manner. "And when Reina goes missing, you seem to be his first suspect. Me personally? I'd rather you didn't end up in a stew, so I took the lead."
She wanted to throw him through a wall. Several walls. And then some. But she actually owed him her gratitude, didn't she. Still she folded her arms and huffed out a scoff.
"He has nothing to be suspicious about," she insisted curtly.
Aveth shot her a smirk that told her just how much he believed her, then opened the door again and stepped out into the hall. Nova followed under the pretense of wiping that smug look off his face, but in truth… it was better than standing around and thinking. Specifically about a moment approximately eight breaths ago. She… probably shouldn't have done that. Why had she done that? Hello, Ancestors? She'd like to be struck by lightning now. Smoke. She'd breathed in too much smoke that morning. Yes. That was it.
Aveth offered a jarring slap between her shoulder blades. She snapped from her stupor and stared at him with a wrinkled frown, lips drawn.
"Come on," he insisted, a soft smile on his face. Somehow it was more irksome than his smirk. Still, she followed him into Ironheel's room.
The man was tucked beneath a brown, woolen blanket on the bed. He stirred slightly, then turned his head toward them and blinked thickly for a moment.
"Brought a friend this time?" Ironheel wheezed.
"Thought you might get bored," Aveth quipped.
"The way you lot throw a party? Doubt it," he returned with a rasping chuckle. "I don't think I'll forget that little campfire of yours until my dying day. May every one of those motherless curs burn."
Nova's mouth twitched with a grimace before she glanced away. Surprisingly, even in his state, Ironheel didn't miss it.
"Scum and skeevers, the lot of them. The kind that no one else in their right mind would want to work with. But they came cheap because of it. And whatever 'good business' he might spout, Quintillius loved his money." Ironheel spat before his tone shifted lower and took a dark edge. "The kind of men they were? The world's a right sight better without them. So don't you dare go pitying 'em. You did everyone in town a service."
"Didn't say I pitied them," Nova refuted.
He replied with a dismissive scoff.
There was silence for a moment.
"So," the sigh hissed from the man. "Did you get him?" There was no need to elaborate on who.
This time it was Aveth who looked away with a grimace.
"Quintillius was not there," he snarled bitterly. "It was someone else, and it almost felt like he was expecting us..."
"Blue outfit, gold eyes, smells like a dog, and a personality like a mule's backside?" Ironheel asked.
"I can attest to the first three," Aveth responded, brow scrunching.
"Name's Tovar," Ironheel supplied. "Quintillius's right hand man. About the only person he trusts with anything important. You'd do well to steer clear of him." A hand drifted almost unconsciously to touch his face before the act brought a wince. "That man likes nothing more than to make others suffer… for a long damn time."
"He's dead," Aveth said simply. Then his tone softened. "I'm certain. I watched the life fade from his eyes until nothing was left."
Ironheel's gaze fixed on the wall for a moment before he swallowed hard. The muscles that stood rigid in his neck relaxed slightly.
"Well then the world just became a little brighter," the man finally said, forcing a grim smile. "And you two might just stand a chance."
"Do you know where Quintillius would be?" Aveth asked.
"Of course," Ironheel scoffed, pausing to cough. "Man's nothing if not predictable. Only one place he'd go if you burned down his house. Good on you for that, by the way."
"Where?" Aveth pressed, stepping closer.
"An old fort near the city. He's got it under his control. But that place won't be as easy as the manor."
"Yes," Aveth hissed, fist clenching at his side. "But it's not over until he's dead."
Ironheel considered that for a moment.
"Maybe. But you've just proven you're not to be crossed. He might decide that you're not worth the effort... or the coin."
"He's still going to die," Aveth promised.
Nova's eyes widened at his tone, but she said nothing. Still, it was strange to see the normally tranquil Aveth… hostile.
"Good," Ironheel praised, the word drawn like a sigh. "Now… if you don't mind, I'm… tired."
"We'll leave you to rest," Aveth replied.
Nova made for the door, Aveth in her wake before he paused. She stopped silently in turn.
"I'm sorry," he offered.
The wounded man did not open his eyes. "For?"
"Leaving you in there the first time. Walking away."
"Didn't expect anything else from you," Ironheel commented, cracking open an eyelid.
Aveth simply turned to him with a look beyond his considerable years.
Ironheel's mouth scrunched into a grimace.
"Well, maybe I had a bit of hope. But you came back, so it all worked out." He resettled himself with a grunt, then sighed. "What's done is done. Leave the past there."
Aveth's lip quirked at the brazen attitude, but he smiled nonetheless.
A gentle knock broke the silence before Nova pulled open the door and moved aside. Reina stepped into the room, a heavy blanket in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other. She looked to Aveth with an apologetic smile.
"Pardon the intrusion," she began. "This was the warmest blanket I could find."
Aveth hurried to accept it.
"My thanks," he said with a relieved sigh.
"I brought your friend a big helping of stew too. I'm not sure if-" Reina's words cut off with a gasp as she looked to the bed and saw Ironheel for the first time. She hissed out a breath through gritted teeth as her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened, no doubt to loose a torrent of questions, but asked only one. "What happened?"
"We're not certain," Aveth supplied. "He was… held captive for a time."
Reina drew in another breath, but did not turn away. Instead, she approached and bent to study his wounds, setting the bowl of stew on the nightstand. She drew back and frowned for a moment before bidding them all to wait there and whirling from the room in a flurry of rippling skirt. Her feet drummed out a rhythm on the stairs, followed by silence. A moment later, her footsteps resounded again just before she flew into the room once more, a bag clutched in her hand. She set it on the nightstand and pulled it open.
From the drab brown depths, she extracted a small ceramic container along with two others and opened the lids. The earthy scent of herbs drifted from them.
"What's his name?" Reina asked.
"Ironheel," Aveth answered.
She called to him by name, but he did not stir from his sleep, not even when she set a hand on his shoulder. Biting her lip, she turned to Aveth and Nova. "I'd like to put something on that," she gestured to the half of the man's raw, puffy face.
"Could you?" Aveth asked hopefully.
Reina smiled and gave a single nod before setting to work. "This should help reduce the swelling and speed his healing, as well as keeping any of these cuts from getting infected," she said.
Cuts? Nova wondered at that, peering closer. Sure enough, there were places where the man's swelled and bloodied skin had split open.
Aveth nodded at Reina's words. "Thank you," he sighed, his relief palpable.
"Of course," she smiled, continuing her work with a remarkably delicate touch. "Though he really should be taken to the temple in the morning for proper care."
"That is actually a point of contention at the moment," the dunmer replied.
Reina's response was a hopeless roll of her eyes. Why were people so stubborn about getting the help they needed to heal properly? It baffled her.
Aveth watched her work and frowned slightly as a thought struck him. Hadn't she been wearing orange robes earlier? A healer's garb… Gears began to turn in his mind, gathering strength with each passing moment. A healer's garb, with the skills to match? She had to be a student at the temple. And with how… friendly she and Nova were… This girl… could she be… He bit his lip, halfway tempted to ask Nova for the amulet. He turned to her, but the words died instantly.
Nova stood like she was carved from stone, unmovable and rooted to the very floor. Her wide eyes were fixed squarely on Reina as her lips parted. A hand drifted up and clutched the amulet beneath her shirt. He did not miss the tremble in her fingers. Aveth reached out slowly and set a hand on her shoulder. She did not turn to him. Indeed, it was as if she couldn't bear to look away. A name whispered on her silent lips in a mixture of hope and disbelief.
Lucinda?
Reina pulled back from the bed and returned her items to the bag. The air smelt of soil in the rain and flowers, with just a hint of something waxy. "That should help," she sighed happily, eyes shining. "But I'd like you to have him drink this in a tea twice a day." She passed over a small sachet that Aveth hastened forward to accept.
"Thank you for all you've done," he said softly. "I… Can I offer you-" he paused, realizing he had very little gold to give after buying yet more potions for the ailing man.
"No," Reina chuckled, shaking her head. "Just call me at once if he gets any worse or if he doesn't improve after a few days. I'll check in when I can, otherwise." She lifted her bag and excused herself.
At the very least, Nova opened the door for her.
In the silence that followed, Aveth bit his lip again.
"There are more students," he had to remind. "And we don't know their birthsigns yet."
Nova nodded. It seemed like a good response. He kept talking, but she heard no more, watching the retreating form of the woman as she descended the stairs.
Quintillius picked up a glass decanter of wine and poured it into his crystalline goblet. The red liquid sent a sharp tang wafting through the air. The drab stone walls around him bore fine tapestries, along with a series of paintings, while a rich rug splayed across the floor. It did little to improve the run-down fort's appeal, but it was his. Quintillius smiled and took a sip before making his way past three large bookshelves and settling himself in a cushioned chair behind a polished desk. A sigh of blissful contentment escaped his lips as if he had not a care in all the world.
"You see," he remarked to the man in front of him. "Business, my good man, is much like wine. It can be dull and no more than drivel when cheap components and half-hearted efforts mix with preposterously poor planning. Ah, but when you deal with only the finest goods, and use the best methods, it can become something worth savoring."
The man in brown regalia on the other side of the desk looked to the questionable brutes on either side of Quintillius and could not fight the sneer that curled his lip. The finest, truly.
"Your home is in ashes," he reminded sternly.
That made the bald man pause, glass halfway to his lips. He swirled it as if contemplating, then nodded. "Yes. That is a rather unfortunate turn of events." He looked away to his wide window, just barely able to see a sliver of the setting silver moon beyond. "If only they could have seen reason. I do so like warriors willing to do whatever it takes to achieve an end, don't you, Ralif?"
Ralif only continued scowling.
"But where are my manners?" Quintillius purred. "I've kept you far too long already. Shall we get down to business then?" The question was rhetorical. "Tell me, what have you learned about our fiery friends?"
"From what Tovar got out of the traitor, they're after the girls at the temple. Healers-in-training or some such," he said with a dismissive snort, resisting the urge to spit on the floor.
"Why?" Quin drawled, brow furrowed.
"Who knows? But I gather it's important to them."
Quintillius gave the man a patronizing glare over his wine glass. "What an astute observation."
Ralif shrugged off the scorn.
"And that's all they're here for?" the bald man wondered to himself, frowning. "No matter. Collect the students, all of them." He sipped the sharp red liquid. "No one crosses me and lives."
"Understood," Ralif nodded. "But sir… there's the matter of who will succeed Tovar."
Quintillius sighed, the sound more like a growl in his throat. His home and his right hand man in one day? He clenched his fist. He should have killed the whelps at once, but that was not the way the game was played. His rivals would mark the action as fearful, he was sure of it. But if he could turn a profit from such a situation? That would send a proper message to the lot of them, and a new crop of lovely little healers? Oh, he could tailor to so many tastes. When he spoke, his voice was honey-sweet, devoid of all trace of malice.
"Why, you of course, dear boy."
Ralif's eyes widened. "Thank you sir! I won't disappoint you."
"There's no way you can," Quin praised. That was actually true. After all, he expected disastrous results from this unproven cretin. From there, he could only be pleasantly surprised. "Now off you go."
"Yes sir!" Ralif nodded, pressing a fist to his chest. He turned toward the door, but paused, reaching for the handle. "There's one more thing," he added, looking back over his shoulder. "I've been getting some straggling reports from my eyes. I'm not entirely sure if they're accurate, sir, but it seems the warrior lass and the barmaid at the inn are getting pretty cozy, if you catch my meaning."
Quintillius's gaze flicked up, his face spreading slowly into a wicked grin.
"Well that explains quite a bit," he purred, swirling his index finger around the lip of his glass. "But she's no longer of an interest to me." He murmured the words as if to himself, then lifted his voice. "Add the barmaid to the list."
Ralif gave a single nod and hurried from the room.
Aveth lay sprawled on their bed, his head pillowed on his hands as he leaned back. Nova kept her back to him, running a cloth over the same piece of armor. It had gone from clean to immaculate, and now he feared if she tended it much longer, it would turn to dust in her hands. It was definitely time to pull her from her thoughts. And he knew just the right words to use. Or rather… tease with. A cheshire grin spread over his face. He couldn't start with the greatest issue looming over them. Nova, he knew, needed time. So instead...
"So," Aveth drawled in a honey-sweet voice.
"Don't even," Nova warned.
"It was kind of you to walk Reina home," Aveth probed, looking to her out of one eye.
Nova stiffened for a moment, then simply shrugged. He gave an internal sigh. Alright, so this topic wasn't absolutely off limits.
"It was prudent. She looks like an easy target, lithe and pretty. I didn't want anyone to give her trouble."
Pretty hm? He'd let that one go for now.
"I'm just saying you went out of your way for her. It was nice."
"Are you trying to find a polite way to tell me I'm losing my focus?" she asked, mercifully setting down her armor piece.
"Not in the least!" he balked, sitting up. This time the words were gentle, sincere. "I'm just glad to see you smile. It's like you're becoming a real person again."
Nova opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly as she threw him a secretive sidelong glance. Oh, two could play at this game.
"You're just jealous because I'm making friends that aren't you."
Aveth fixed her with an incredulous look, eyebrow quirked.
"Really?"
Nova turned and offered him a triumphant smirk, happily hiding behind humor.
"Sure. That's exactly what it is," he sighed, laying back down and closing his eyes.
Nova turned back to the dresser where a steaming bowl of water sat beside her armor and stripped off her light shirt and pants. She dipped a cloth into the warmth and wrung it out before wiping at her arms.
Aveth paid all the attention he would give a grain of sand. A body without clothes on was simply that. In fact, he preferred the vestments. It left something for the imagination.
Centuries had let them build a remarkable ease around one another, and in that time, Aveth had professed such thoughts, and to her skeptical stare, made a strange admission. He did not find anyone attractive. That wasn't to say he thought everyone was ugly, nor that he did not see the beauty in a lovely form. But actual attraction was another matter entirely. A remarkably absent one.
Nova had wondered at first... and eyed him dubiously. She had to muse if he simply hadn't found the right person yet. Would he suddenly decide she was desirable one day? Did she need to worry? But then her thoughts subsided and she simply came to accept it as Aveth. Aveth was Aveth and that was that. He did not need to be anything else, nor be like anyone else.
Nova cast a glance back at the dunmer and had to admit that Reina's assumption about them was not unfounded. From the outside, they would look much like a couple.
She dipped a cloth rag in the basin's warm water and continued washing the day from her skin.
Aveth's mused question caught her off guard.
"Have you fed?"
She tensed.
"That would be a no," he answered for her, chuckling.
Nova bit her lip. Did she make an excuse, or admit she'd put it off?
"Just hug Reina again," Aveth commented, smirking. He snatched up the damp rag that came flying at his head.
"She hugged me I'll have you know! And she was just grateful that I'd walked her home! So quit being such a spy!" Nova huffed.
"Awfully defensive," he grinned, throwing the rag back. "Of course I'm sure I interrupted nothing at all earlier either."
Nova caught the cloth and dipped it back in the bowl, turning away as she resumed her task with a litany of swears muttered under her breath. After a time, she pulled on a fresh set of shirt and pants, then paused. When she spoke again, her voice was low, barely audible.
"If she is indeed our queen, it would be most improper."
Aveth swallowed and took a breath. There it was.
"And if she is not?" he asked gently.
"Then I must move on," Nova murmured solemnly. "My duty is to my queen. No other will distract me from her." Her breath caught for but a moment. "I will find her, Aveth." There was a pause. "But perhaps… even if it's not Reina, I could return… visit for a time..."
"I think that... would be a nice plan," he replied, slipping beneath the blankets and rolling onto his side. It was a measure of balance for her, at least...
Nova joined him after a time, blowing out the candle on the bedside table and curling up with her back to him.
"Lucinda would want you to be happy, after all," he offered to the darkness.
"Yes. And I will be when I find her," Nova stated.
Aveth frowned silently.
"You walk a dangerous edge with that mentality," he cautioned, not unkindly. She did not reply, and indeed he expected as much. There in the dark, Aveth closed his eyes with a sigh.
Nova's soft breath was the only sound in the room as Aveth lay awake. Sleep would not come to him, regardless of how weary his body was. He rose and moved to the room's chair before lighting a candle and picking up a stray book from the dresser. Yet he quickly found his thoughts trailing, and after reading the same sentence three times, he shut the tome gently and set it aside, eyes turning to Nova. A heavy sigh threaded from him as gnawing, cloying anger chewed at his bones. But no, that wasn't quite right. If he took the time to peel away the emotions that shielded him… if he was honest with himself… he was jealous. He rubbed his ruby eyes with a bitter nod. He… was jealous of Nova.
She was consumed by such a fiery passion for the one she loved, whether she could admit her feelings or not. He, on the other hand? He saw only people, felt only friendship. But no matter how deep a bond said friendship was, it was not the passion that forged song, nor started wars. He was the oddity, an outsider looking in. Always hearing of something he never got to feel. Didn't she know how much he would give to feel what she felt? Because he was far beyond consoling himself to be careful what he wished for, or that it was more trouble than it was worth. Most days, he gave it no thought, but lately… lately there was a loneliness within him. It let him be in a room filled with people and still feel utterly alone. And in the dark of night… he found himself wondering if he would live and die alone. It was not rational, oh, he knew. But it was there. And so few people could understand. Friendship was not the same; it would not soothe him.
Aveth raked his fingers through his auburn hair. There was little he could do. If he could have made himself feel something, Ancestors he would, consequences be damned. But it simply did not work that way. He looked again to Nova, sequestering his feelings as he waited for them to pass. A rueful smile crossed his lips. Maybe if he stayed near her long enough, something would wake up inside of him. After all… better five hundred years late than never, right? It didn't work that way either, but the thought was still there.
He pursed his lips, staring a moment longer before standing and blowing out the candle. On silent footsteps, he left the room and wandered out into the night. Sitting still would drive him mad sooner than anything. But the wonderful thing about cities was there was always something going on, something to do.
He turned his feet toward the temple first. The ailing knew no hour, only the pain in their flesh. He would offer his aid there first. If that failed him, well, perhaps he'd run into an unfortunate robber who chose the wrong night to be out, or someone wandering home late who was unknowingly in need of a rooftop guardian. The thought made him smile, though it did not yet reach his eyes as his boots thudded dully on the cobbled road.
