Name: Ephraim
Wherein Ephraim remembers the first time Sylf saved his life.
Ephraim sat at the bar, staring at the whiskey Tabetha poured for him out of the goodness of her heart. She didn't often give out free drinks, but she said 'Danna raked in enough dough to cover it and that Ephraim looked like a puppy in the rain. For Periti's sake, he was already 50! How was it possible for him to look so immature?
The pitiful comparison jogged one of his memories where Sylf called him a puppy. It was when he was drunk and she was tipsy and he asked her why she kept his flowers. He couldn't remember what she sounded like, or even what she looked like in his memory, but he remembered kissing her after that. She pushed him away chuckling and sending him off to bed both elated and frustrated.
Ephraim grasped the glass and knocked back the whiskey. He coughed as the liquor burned his throat, but he signaled Tabetha for another anyway. "Put it on my tab," he said hoarsely. Tabetha looked at him suspiciously but obliged him anyway. The tavern's activities were winding down in the wee hours of the morning, and no doubt Tomlyn and Sylf were finished with their…reunion. Something nasty curled in the pit of his stomach and he downed the second whiskey. He hoped it would wash the nasty feeling away, but it didn't.
It wasn't like him to be jealous of Tommy. Ephraim knew his place in their odd relationship, and he knew it was always second to Tommy. But the fact that Tommy got to see her, talk with her, touch her, and hold her after all this time? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she looked right through Ephraim as if he was simply her liege lord. As if the friendship they shared didn't exist. As if she didn't know he loved her.
He didn't know what Sylf was trying to mask, but the instant he saw her, he remembered the way she always cast her glance elsewhere first when she wasn't sure about something. Or how she jutted her hip and crossed her arms when she was displeased. Or how that predatory gaze of hers made him hope she did pounce and devour him.
Another whiskey appeared in front of him, and he was vaguely aware of Tabetha saying that was the last one. He stared at it, confused, hurt, and lost beyond belief. Sylf. He said the syllables of her name softly, rolling the sounds of her name over his tongue. He hadn't said her name in a long, long time even though he thought about her everyday. When had she first told him her name?
It took Ephraim a moment, but then he smiled wistfully. Ah yes, that time. The time he thought he was most certainly going to die.
~* Twenty-six years ago *~
Ephraim tugged on the hood of his cloak to make sure it was covering his face as he followed Tommy into the tavern. So far, the trip into the Undercity had been a success. As Tommy took him through winding, dilapidated streets and buildings, they passed more beggars that Ephraim could count and the stench throughout the area was vile—as if Ephraim needed any more proof Denalia's reign must come to an end.
The only redeeming part of the trip was a stop at the local orphanage. The children and matron were lovely and it broke Ephraim's heart to see them so impoverished. But it was quite wonderful to see all the children clamor around Tommy. He made them laugh with a silly story and they were excited to see the treats from the manor that Ephraim had unknowingly supplied. Ephraim didn't mind and their smiles were worth it.
The last leg of their tour was a quick ale and meager meal to get them through the stressful journey of going back to the manor. The tavern had a few patrons at the bar and a few others scattered throughout the tables. Everyone seemed to be on edge and keeping to themselves, with the tavern volume only at a low murmur. There wasn't even a performer playing, despite being well into the evening.
Tommy led him to small table in the corner near the door, and he relaxed in the chair as the barmaid brought them two ales and he ordered their food. Grabbing the mug, Tommy took a long swig and let out a satisfied sigh. "Not the best, but definitely not the worst." He grinned and gestured to Ephraim's untouched mug. "Go on. It will help loosen you up."
"Is that wise?"
"Considering you look like a nervous wreck, I'd say yes."
Obligingly, Ephraim took a tentative sip of the ale. Tommy was right about the ale, at least. He drank a bit more and their food arrived quickly. The food was terrible, but, after the long day, Ephraim didn't care. Tommy signaled for another round of drinks and as the mugs were set down, a loud group entered the tavern.
There were about five of them in total, and a burly, mean looking dwarf seemed to be leading them as he barked orders to the bartender. While their armor and weapons looked unblemished, likely new, they certainly had a rough look about them. Ephraim heard Tommy swear under his breath in Undercommon and he signaled they needed to leave.
But before either of them could get up, an elf in the group noticed their table.
"Ey, boss! Isn't that Mad McDanna?"
The dwarf's gaze was on them and before they could move, the gang seemed to surround the table. Ephraim exhaled deeply and gripped his mug tightly to keep his nerves from showing.
"Well, well, Bagur. Been awhile." Tommy grinned mischievously. "Looks like the welt I gave you last time healed up nice. You looking for another one?"
"Can it, McDanna!" The dwarf's face turned bright red as he, literally, spat out his words. Fortunately, Ephraim was not in the splash zone of the dwarf's spit. Bagur crossed his arms and continued, "Word on the street is you happen to be in the acquaintance of someone we're looking for."
"Oh? Is that so? And what incentive do I have to help you?"
"The incentive of me not killing you and your pretty boy here."
"Hey, I paid good coin for his company and I would appreciate it if you didn't threaten him. Madame Eldvi would not be too happy if one of her premiums ended up dead." Tommy protested. Ephraim glanced at the dwarf and then back to Tommy who seemed utterly relaxed. It took Ephraim a moment to realize Tommy was implying that he was a prostitute. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.
The dwarf grunted and made a gesture so the goons behind Ephraim moved over to dwarf instead. Ephriam relaxed his grip on the mug slightly. Madame Eldvi must hold some influence in this part of town.
"Fine." The dwarf licked his blistered lips. "Atrea Silverleaf. Where is she?"
Ephraim's body froze in terror, but kept his gaze on his mug. Atrea? What did she have to do with any of this?
"Atrea Silverleaf? I haven't seen her in ages," Tommy lied.
"Liar," Bagur spat. "We know you're fucking her. Where is she?"
Tommy sighed and chugged the rest of his ale. He plunked the mug down and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "Look, I used to fuck her, sure. But that was years ago. Silverleaf is a bit, well," he paused and whistled a low tone. "Paranoid. I wasn't ever sure if I was going to leave our encounters alive and, well, we all know it's a bad idea to stick it in crazy." He shrugged, "So I quit seeing her."
"You've done jobs with her."
"Years ago. I'm hired muscle now, don't you know?"
"You know something. I know you do," Bagur seethed.
Tommy frowned at him. "I don't recall your paths ever crossing with Silverleaf's line of work. What's it to you?"
Bagur grinned, or well, Ephraim thought it was supposed to be a grin. The teeth he had were rotten and yellow, and Ephraim was thankful he was sitting far enough away to avoid any sort of stench from Bagur's breath.
"I have a new employer now. One who is very keen on finding the slippery bitch."
Ephraim swallowed. It was hard listening to them talk about Atrea so crudely, even though he knew Tommy was lying. Even more so since Ephraim had entertained Atrea to tea in the butterfly garden after her last job not even two weeks ago.
Tommy sighed, sounding resigned. "Alright, I know a little. But I don't think it will help your boss. If I tell you, you'll let us go on our way?"
Bagur sized him up for a moment and then signaled to his men. The goons around Tommy moved, so they were all behind Bagur, freeing up the access to the door. "Fine."
"Alright, last I knew, Silverleaf was living in the Stacks, near the Doc's old place. But that was years ago, and she definitely isn't there anymore. Recently I've heard whispers that she doesn't stay in one place for too long, which is probably why it's taking your boss forever to find her." Tommy explained. He stood and Ephraim stood abruptly as well. "Now, with that, we'll square up and leave."
Tommy ushered Ephraim to the door and quickly paid the bartender. As Ephraim took hold of the door handle, Tommy behind him, Bagur called out,
"Hold on, McDanna. You haven't paid tribute."
Tommy paused. "Last I checked this tavern wasn't under Raizen's control."
"Nah, but Onning Street is."
Ephraim paled. Onning Street was where the orphanage was located. Did Tommy live there too?
Tommy sighed. "Bagur, Bagur, Bagur. Are we really going to do this again?" He turned to the dwarf as his hands slid under his cloak—undoubtedly to his knives.
"It's different this time. Being in the Skuls comes with some nice…benefits."
As Bagur elongated his last words, the gang began unsheathing swords and daggers. All fresh steel, clean, and unused. Combined with their armor, with a start, Ephraim realized that they were equipped as well as any member of the city guard.
"It doesn't change stupid, though," Tommy shrugged. Immediately, Tommy threw two small knives, hitting the elf and a human right in the foreheads. Ephraim didn't even have time to process what just happened, or even see them crumple to the ground because Tommy shoved him out the door and they were running.
There were shouts and a horn sounded behind them. Tommy took Ephraim down a side street but the horn seemed to bring people out of the shadows. Most of them didn't have the armor, but they certainly had good steel. Around him, Tommy took down a few more and they kept running. They turned down a side street only to find Raizen's men waiting for them on the other side. They tried to double back but another group surrounded them.
His back against Ephraim's, Tommy said, "Listen, I'll make an opening for you to get away. They're after me, not you."
"I can't just leave you," Ephraim panted. He shifted his stance and raised his hands, poised to strike.
"You can, and you will." They didn't have a chance to come to an agreement as the gang descended on them.
Ephraim told himself to rely on his body to do the work, to focus on the next steps like his martial arts instructor told him. He pushed one knife away and knocked the thug to the ground. Another one flanked his side, but Ephraim dodged the knife swipe and, channeling his ki, he used Flurry of Blows on the second assailant. The thug crashed into the wall.
A cry from behind him caused Ephraim to turn to see Tommy parry a short sword and stab his knife into the thug's chest. Ephraim's senses slowed, his body frozen as he was suddenly aware of the metallic, foul stench in his nose, the red splattered on Tommy's body, and the shouts and cries of the beings around him in pain. He stumbled, trying to breathe. He had to breathe. If he didn't, he would die.
Something kicked Ephraim and he fell to the ground. Everything was reeling in slow motion now and he thought he heard someone call his name. He looked up to see an elf glowering down at him, dagger raised.
This was it. This was how he died. In the rotten stench and decay of Denalia's negligence. And he wouldn't get to warn Atrea these gangsters were looking for her. She needed to know. But she wouldn't know, at least, not from him.
A knife suddenly appeared in the elf's neck and he crumpled over as a figure pulled out the knife, turned, and threw it at a nearby orc in shock. The orc went down in a pool of her blood, and a human raised his axe, charging. With a start, Ephraim realized it wasn't Tommy who saved him, but a cloaked and masked figure. The figure turned to him and their face was covered except for their eyes.
Her narrow green eyes.
Atrea grabbed his wrist and Ephraim felt magic wash over him. "Jump!" she commanded and Ephraim obeyed. Instantly they were both high up in the air and she pushed him towards the rooftop. They landed and she grabbed his wrist, starting to pull him away from the fight.
"No! I can't leave him!" Ephraim protested.
"He'll catch up! We have to go!" Atrea snapped.
Ephraim looked down, but it seemed that in the confusion of Ephraim and Atrea jumping out of reach, Tommy was able to slip away. She pulled on his arm again, and this time he followed her without protest.
They jumped across several rooftops, the gangsters in pursuit. When they reached a more crowded area, he followed her back down on the ground and she shoved him through the crowd. He stumbled once or twice, but Atrea's grip on him was so ironclad, it didn't matter. She pushed him through and finally to a small alleyway next to a brothel.
She shoved him against the wall and he never got a chance to speak as she adjusted his hood and then pushed him forward again. Finally, she stopped around the backside of the brothel and pulled a manhole cover up.
"You go first. Just head down the ladder, don't wander," she instructed.
"In the sewers? Surely there's a better way?" Ephraim was repulsed at the idea of wading through filth. He already endured so much this evening, and he wasn't about to—
Suddenly there were shouts coming from the alleyway. Atrea swore and Ephraim changed his mind. Ephraim hurried down the ladder and Atrea was down just as soon as he landed on the platform. The sounds of several gangsters rang out from above the manhole and Ephraim followed Atrea through the sewers, running again.
The stench was worse than the Undercity, but Ephraim didn't have time to dwell on it; he was mostly thankful that they were using the platforms, as opposed to being forced to wade in the sewage itself. She led him down a series of corridors and turns that he tried to keep track of, but it was no use. Still, the gangsters were on their tail.
As they rounded the next corner, Atrea stopped and gestured for him to be quiet. He pressed himself against the wall, panting. Her brows furrowed at him and he swallowed, silencing the sound of his heavy breathing. From under her cloak she slid her bow off her back and positioned her quiver on her hip. She knocked the arrow and leaned against the wall. She seemed calm as he watched her inhale and exhale deeply, but silently.
As the gangsters neared, she whispered, "Don't leave this spot." Then, she turned the corner and disappeared.
Fear gripped Ephraim and he desperately wanted to run but her words rooted him in place. The only thing he could hear in the sewers were the sounds of the gangsters. Then, a sharp sound pierced the silence—was it the arrow hitting the wall? Did Atrea miss? The gangsters changed direction as a few more arrows rang out, but it sounded like some of them hit. There were shouts of orders and then an eerie silence.
Then, the screaming began.
No, not just screaming, but a monster growl that echoed off the sewer walls, terrifying and loud, nearly drowning out the sound of its monstrous body splashing in the putrid waters. Ephraim stepped out from his hiding spot to try and find Atrea when she suddenly reappeared in front of him. Wordlessly, she took his wrist and led him away, the screams of dying gangsters behind them.
They ran again at first, but after they passed through a levy, Atrea's pace slowed to a brisk walk. She stopped every so often, listening, but then continued on. Ephraim didn't know how she knew the way, but when she stopped in front of a nondescript wall, he was thoroughly lost and confused.
Atrea took off one glove and placed her bare hand flat against the stone. Wards lit up on the wall and a passageway opened. It took all his dignity to not drop his jaw in amazement. She ushered him in the corridor and he walked through an unlit passage way. When they reached the next wall, he extended his arm out to touch the wall.
Suddenly she grabbed his arm and jerked him back. "Are you trying to get us killed?" she hissed.
Then her body pressed against his as she leaned forward and placed her palm on the wall. The doorway opened and she shoved him through into a cellar. Or, at least it seemed like a cellar. They were certainly underground but Ephraim wasn't quite sure where. To his left was a large drafting table and chair and a small, locked chest. To his right was a large clothing chest, a small wardrobe, and a small bookshelf containing neatly organized scrolls and loose papers. Another large, locked chest was directly in front of him, next to what appeared to be a staircase.
Ephraim didn't have time to examine the room more, because as soon as the door wards were back in place, Atrea shoved him against the wall with her arm under his neck. He craned his neck, struggling to relieve the pressure to no avail. She pulled her mask down off her face and her green eyes promised wrath.
"What were you thinking?" Her low and cold voice stilled Ephraim. Tommy always compared Atrea to a viper, coiled and ready to strike at any moment. But Ephraim always thought she was more like a wolf, waiting, hunting, in the darkness. When he didn't answer she pulled away and he slid to the ground, coughing. "What were you doing in the Undercity?!" she demanded.
"I wanted to see-" he broke off, coughing as his dried throat tried to recover. But he never got to finish his sentence.
"You wanted to see?" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "See the Undercity on a whim, on your fancy? Did you find it to your liking, Little Princeling?"
Ephraim pulled himself onto his feet, trying to ignore the sting from her blatant insult. "You don't understand. I-"
"What's there to understand? You were somewhere you don't belong. Somewhere that will get you killed. Is that what you have, a death wish?"
He drew himself to his full height, his chin titled up slightly. "You know nothing about what I hoped to achieve there, not that I expect you to. And I-"
Atrea's eyes flashed dangerously as she cut him off again. "I know everything. I know Raizen is hunting me. I know the Skuls have been stalking Onning Street, waiting for Tomlyn to come home. I know that Tomlyn hasn't been home since he came back from the last job a few days ago, so he doesn't know any of this." She stalked towards him as she spoke, and he instinctively moved backwards, but his back hit the stone wall too quickly.
Atrea loomed over him, a predator who cornered her prey. Fear shot through Ephraim as he realized there was absolutely no where to go.
In a hushed, controlled tone, she said, "You know nothing. And your ignorance nearly got you killed."
Without thinking he shot back, "Is it me you're concerned about getting killed, or is it Tommy?"
For a moment, Atrea seemed shocked. Then, fury gripped her visage, despite her controlled tone. "You're on my turf. I suggest you speak carefully."
"For someone who knows so much, you seem to know me so little," he snapped. Though he sometimes let Atrea push him around, he wasn't about to let her bully him or have the last word. "You know what I'm working towards. How can I truly achieve that goal without truly understanding the plights of my people? Without seeing it first hand? I am well aware of the dangers the Undercity holds and it is far more dangerous than I imagined," he said, thinking of the gangster's fresh steel and armor. "I don't claim to be perfect but I'm going to do damn well everything in my power to help the people of this city, this country."
"You can't understand anyone but your own kind," she spat.
"You always make snide remarks about the nobility, but when I attempt to do something different it's wrong? Should I do nothing? Or should I try to be different? Which is it?" He asked, frustrated.
Atrea stared him down and he stared back, his anger fueling his refusal to break the gaze first. Then, she stepped back. "Stay here," she instructed.
It wasn't until Atrea finished ascending the steps that Ephraim allowed himself to relax, collapsing against the wall. So far, he tried to avoid confrontations with Atrea as he was trying to appease her as a ploy to convince her to enter his service. He knew Atrea could be cold and ruthless, but this was something else entirely. No one knew where he was—there was a possibility Tommy didn't know either. If she killed him, how long would it take for anyone to find him? With Atrea's direct access to the sewers, would they find him at all?
Ephraim shivered at the thought. He tried convincing himself that Atrea wouldn't kill him, but it was clear what he saw of her were merely small glimpses. He didn't know her at all.
But… he wanted to. He enjoyed her companionship over the years. The tea parties spent playing Gavant with Tommy, the walks through the gardens as she delivered his information, the gushing over books and serials. She wasn't faking all of that time, was she? How would he know?
Ephraim jumped at the sound of someone descending the stairs. "Take off your cloak and boots. I'll clean them later," Atrea said.
"No," he said firmly. "Not until you tell me where we are."
He thought Atrea was going to protest, but instead she exhaled deeply and said, "This is my home. I've started a bath for you upstairs and set aside some fresh clothes. Unless, you'd rather stay down here."
Ephraim wanted to run up the stairs, but he forced himself to stay in place. "What will it cost me?"
Atrea glanced away for a moment before retuning her gaze to him. "Nothing. I'm returning a favor to Tomlyn."
Tommy once impressed upon Ephraim that favors were a big deal in his world—providing an unnamed service for free was a powerful payment. It was only that knowledge that let him know he was truly safe. A small part of him was bothered by the fact that Atrea was helping him this purely on Tommy's behalf, as opposed to, well, helping Ephraim for his sake. But Atrea wasn't on his payroll and didn't owe him anything. Resigned, Ephraim removed his cloak and boots and followed Atrea up the stairs.
When Ephraim emerged from the other side and as he followed Atrea through the building, it dawned on him that they were in a home. A real home. Not the shabby place Tommy brought him to so they could briefly rest, not the small, worn holes in buildings that beings on Onning Street were forced to call homes. This was a real, proper, house complete with a suite of rooms. He stood in the middle of the living space, scanning the area over and over again. It felt impossible. Unreal.
Scanning the kitchen again, he noticed the vase of flowers sitting in front of the window. His legs moved on their own and he was standing in front of the vase, staring at the fresh bouquet he prepared and gave her not even two weeks ago. He was glad to see his handiwork and gift in such a prominent spot in her home. Then, he noticed the window. Or, more specifically, what was outside of the window. Clean streets with gas-lit lamps lined the stretch of row houses. This…didn't make sense.
"You live in the Market District?" he asked aloud, staring out the window.
"Is that a problem?" She asked coolly.
"No!" He said hastily. He turned to see her at the stove, setting a kettle. "I mean, I just thought that you lived in the Undercity."
"I left that shithole years ago," she snorted.
"Oh." She left years ago? Was that why Raizen still wasn't able to find her? How many beings knew she didn't live in the Undercity? Suddenly, it dawned on Ephraim that his mere knowledge of Atrea owning her own home in the Market District, of all places, was incredibly valuable and dangerous information.
She gestured for him to follow and she led him up the stairs, past two bedrooms and to the bathroom. It was considerably smaller than his own bathroom, but it had enough room for a claw tub and a dedicated shower.
Atrea turned off the water and gestured to the bath, towel, and neatly folded set of clothes. "Hopefully this is suitable, despite the lack of in-laid mosaic tile." Ephraim was too tired to let her snark bother him, so instead he thanked her. She stalked past him and out of the room, closing the door behind her.
As Ephraim slid into the tub, the reality of his situation began to sink in. The gang members in the tavern with their new armor and weapons, Tommy yelling at him to run, Ephraim freezing at the sight of death and blood, and Atrea appearing out of nowhere and then bringing him to her home. Was Tommy okay? Was he alive? How did Atrea know that he would be okay? Did Tommy know where they were?
More importantly, he nearly died. If Atrea wasn't there… that would have been it. All his dreams, hopes, and plans ended with a quick slice of a blade. He curled up into himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and lowering his head. Atrea was right. He was an idiot. He should have been more prepared, stronger, faster. It was clear that the training he received wasn't enough. He needed to push himself harder if he was going to successfully win a coup and hold the country together. He needed to be better.
He sat in the tub numbly until his fingers and toes pruned and the water started to cool. He dressed quickly in the fresh clothes Atrea laid out and they fit reasonably well. He didn't think too much on it until he opened the door and heard voices downstairs.
"What were you thinking?!"
"Look, E's been bugging me for awhile to take him. It seemed like a good time."
Tommy! He was alive! Ephraim strode quickly to the top of the stairs to greet his friend. But as he was about to step out from behind the wall and in view, Atrea's words made him freeze.
"You should have told me. You were lucky I happened to be nearby."
"I wasn't going to have him pay you to escort him so you could turn around and sell the knowledge of where we'd been. It was too risky. I don't know who you're working for these days." There was a hard edge to Tommy's voice that Ephraim didn't hear often. Usually it was for something serious or when something was wrong. Why would he use that tone with Atrea? Did Tommy really think Atrea would do that? For that matter, did he think Tommy was right?
There was a silence and Ephraim wasn't sure if now was the time to step in. It felt wrong listening to them argue, and he didn't want Atrea to catch him eavesdropping. Ephraim stepped out onto the landing and he called, "Tommy?"
There was some rustling and hurried footsteps and suddenly Tommy appeared at the base of the stairs. His face looked tired, but it still seemed to brighten as the drow looked up at him in relief. "E!" In a few short strides, Tommy was up the stairs and pulling Ephraim into a hug. Ephraim hugged his friend back, relief washing over him.
"I thought you were dead," Ephraim whispered.
"Hah, me? It'll take way more than those goons to take me down," Tommy replied, a touch of humor in his voice. Tommy pulled out of the embrace and sized Ephraim up. "Looks like my clothes fit you well. You look just as handsome in them as I do."
"Your clothes?" Ephraim asked. "You live here?"
"Nah, I just stay here from time to time. Come on, you can sleep in my room." Tommy clapped him on the shoulder but as Ephraim turned, he caught a glimpse of Atrea down the stairs. As soon as she noticed Ephraim was staring at her, she turned away and strode towards the kitchen. But she didn't turn away fast enough for Ephraim to miss the hurt expression on her face.
Tommy led him into the second bedroom which contained a simple bed, dresser, and nightstand. What stood out in the room was the red Peritian prayer book on the nightstand next to an unlit candle marked by a red flame. In the corner was a kneeler, decked out in Periti's red flame.
Tommy was a follower of Periti? Ephraim knew the drow used Peritian curses from time to time, but he never mentioned any sort of faithfulness to any deity. He didn't have long to dwell on it as Tommy began stripping and throwing his dirty clothes into a corner of the room.
"I'm going to pop in the shower. Be out in a min. Make yourself comfortable."
Tommy slid out of the room faster than Ephraim could blink. He sat on the bed, noticing the candle was now lit, and he heard Atrea coming up the stairs. She passed the open doorway holding a circular tray with a tea pot, a tea cup and saucer, and a glass of water. Wordlessly, she took the glass of water and held it out to him. He stared up at her, wanting to say something, anything, but he took the water in silence. Then, she disappeared to the room next door.
Ephraim drank the water greedily, not realizing how thirsty he was until he had the water in his hands. Just as he finished gulping down the water, Tomlyn entered the room. His white hair was slicked back and he had a towel around his waist. Ephraim felt his cheeks flush and he turned away as Tomlyn began to dress.
"I'm glad you're okay," Ephraim said. "What happened after I got away?"
Tommy turned to him, grinning. "Well, there's one less Bagur in the plane, for starters." Tommy regaled him with the story of how he escaped and happened upon Bagur and his goons. He was able to make short work of the remaining goons and even took out Bagur himself before slipping away into the sewers. He nearly had a run-in with the monster that Atrea lured the gangsters to, but thankfully the monster was full and a tad bit slower than usual.
When he finished, Tommy stood and stretched. "Anyway, E., try and get some rest. I'm going to rest up in A.'s room and-"
The clear sound of Atrea moving across her room and slamming the door cut Tommy off. Tommy looked at the shared wall between the two rooms and then shrugged. "I'm going to rest up on the couch and A. will take the first shift to make doubly sure no one followed us. I'll wake you up early morning to get you back home, alright?"
Ephraim nodded and with the Peritian candle in one hand, and the red book tucked under his arm, Tommy left the room. Ephraim got under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, the silence of the house unsettling.
Too many things happened that night, but his near-death experience and the odd tension between Tommy and Atrea were in the forefront of his mind. Usually when Ephraim saw the two of them together, they always seemed like a pair of gloves. But tonight, there was something different between them.
It wasn't his business, he told himself. He still didn't know Atrea that well and it was presumptuous of him to make assumptions of her relationship with Tommy. Still, it nagged on him that despite Tommy stating Atrea was his "shadow" on numerous occasions, why did he think Atrea would sell him out? Why did Atrea look hurt earlier?
He turned in bed, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the gleam of the knife over him.
After tossing and turning for what felt like forever, he decided to refill his glass of water. He needed to do something, anything, to stop thinking about that knife hurtling towards him. He intended to refill the water in the bathroom, but he paused at Atrea's door. It was slightly ajar and he could see a warm light coming from the room.
Without thinking, he knocked gently while pushing the door open. Atrea was sitting on her bed in a robe, her hair pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun. She appeared to be sewing a button onto a piece of navy blue clothing, and she looked up at him while pulling the needle through. With her left hand holding the cloth, he had a clear view of the black diamond ring on her ring finger.
"I, ah, sorry. I didn't mean to push the door open," he said nervously.
"Tomlyn is waking you up early, you know," she said, ignoring his obvious intrusion.
"I know. I just wanted some water," he said holding up the glass. He wanted to seem like his usual self, so he added, "It's quite difficult to sleep when all you can think about is getting stabbed." He meant it to come out light-hearted and joking, but he sounded deflated and exhausted.
Atrea stared at him with her porcelain expression. Then, she gestured to the end of the bed. "Sit," she commanded. He moved without protest and she set her sewing aside. She rose from the bed and took the water glass from his hands. She left the room and Ephraim heard her go down the stairs.
Ephraim looked around her room and saw that it was simple, but neatly arranged. Her room consisted of a bed large enough to fit two, a nice dresser, a nightstand, and a small desk. On the nightstand were two books staked on each other, the top one with a bookmark sticking out. He peered over at it and thought it might be a romance novel, based on the title.
Turning his attention to the desk, there were clean sheafs of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. There were a few other odds and ends, but what stood out to Ephraim was an intricately engraved golden box that also had a keyhole. Was that where Atrea kept her favored personal possessions?
Atrea reentered the room with a glass of water, a tea cup and saucer, and a jar of honey. He took the glass from her and she prepared the two cups of tea. She didn't bother asking Ephraim but as he watched he realized she knew exactly how he liked his tea with just a dash of honey. There was a certain way she prepared it too. Her movements were practiced and fluid, almost as though she had prepared his tea many times over. How peculiar. The odd thing was, why would he notice such a detail to begin with?
She handed him the tea and she took hers and sat back down on the bed. "It's chamomile. I can add brandy to it, if you prefer."
"No, thank you," he responded politely. He stared at her as she puckered her lips and blew on the hot water. How did he end up sitting in her bedroom, late at night, with her wearing a night robe? Judging from the way the thin, silky robe clung to her body, Ephraim surmised she wasn't wearing anything under the robe either. He pulled his gaze away from her, his cheeks heating. Now was not the time.
As they sat sipping their tea, the night replayed in his head again and he tried to push the image of the knife out of his mind. He needed a distraction so he decided to ask something that had been bothering him from the beginning of the altercation.
"You said you happened to be nearby. Do you know why the gang is outfitted with such good armor and steel?"
Atrea glared at him. "So, you were eavesdropping after all."
Ephraim was taken aback, realizing that he had accidentally given himself away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to but-"
"It doesn't matter," she interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. Ephraim doubted that, but he didn't push her. "I know quite a bit around that question. I'll give it to you for triple my usual rate."
Ephraim quirked a mischievous smile at her, unable to help himself. "Come now, Darling, surely after all this time you can do better for me? After all, I am supporting your current lifestyle, am I not?" She scowled at him but Ephraim only laughed. He knew the roleplay would get under her skin, as it always did, but it was comforting to fall into an old routine.
"Fine, double," she snapped.
"Double?" He clutched his heart dramatically. "Darling, you're ruining me! You and I both know how much I care about you. How could you charge me such absurd prices?"
Atrea looked like she wanted to swallow her next words, but then she smirked at him. "Perhaps I would be more inclined to lower the price if I thought it was worth my while. You sit there and tease me with words but no action to back it up. That does nothing for me, Darling."
Ephraim's heart raced as the familiar tug-of-war rose within him. He wanted to be bold, to follow through on the challenge she issued to him several years ago, but to what end? And, if he did act purely on his desires, what would that mean for any future partnership? And what about Tommy? No, the most he could do was play the game and keep up this meaningless teasing for as long as he could.
"Alright, alright. I'll take it at double. I'll pay up next time I see you," Ephraim conceded, still grinning. He sipped his tea as she gave him the details. Apparently, Denalia's spy master was supporting Razien financially and with armor and steel to gather information and sow discord in the city. Tomlyn was a notable thorn in their side for many reasons, but no one had linked him to Ephraim, yet.
Still, Raizen's takeover only served to keep the poor from uprising over the nobility, which is how the current branch of the Aurelia family preferred it. Once she finished, Ephraim gave her a run down of what happened that day.
"Why are they after you?" Ephraim asked.
Atrea gave him a predatory grin and he felt his heart skip a beat. "Raizen wanted me to work for him. I refused and he destroyed one of my homes. Let's just say, I don't forgive and forget." Then, her expression darkened. "And now it sounds like he's linked Tomlyn and I."
"He can't go home now, can he?" Ephraim asked softly.
"No. Not unless something is done, soon." There was something about the way she said it that made Ephraim think that she had to do something, soon.
"If there's any support I can offer, please let me know. I cannot abide this situation or the fact that your lives are in such danger."
She considered him for a moment and her predatory visage returned. "I will take you up on that, Darling."
He yearned to reach over to her an pull her into an embrace. It was near impossible to remind himself that she was just playing with him: a harmless flirtation with no real intention behind it. But, damn, it was hard. Before Ephraim did something he regretted, he finished his tea and stood. He took the glass of water and set the tea saucer on her desk. Then he turned to her and gave her a partial bow.
"Thank you for your hospitality and your company. I…Well, you didn't have to bring me into your house, and I appreciate your kindness."
Atrea straightened and stared at him, bewildered. Then, the porcelain mask returned to her visage as she gave him a small nod in return. Ephraim turned to exit the room, but as his hand was on the door handle, he couldn't help but add,
"For what it's worth, if you had escorted Tommy and I today, I don't think you would have sold me out."
Atrea's eyes narrowed. "And what gives you that inclination?"
Ephraim smiled at her. "Your information is for sale, but not your loyalty. And you're loyal to Tommy through and through."
He wasn't sure why, but his response seemed to unnerve her. She looked away, her expression softening.
"Thanks for everything. Goodnight, Atrea." He turned back to the door handle.
"Sylf."
Ephraim frowned and turned back to her. She was looking at him with her porcelain expression. "My name is Sylf." Then, Ephraim truly saw her. Her expression wasn't blank at all. She was nervous but determined. Soft but firm. A feeling rose in Ephraim as he walked towards her, a mix of elation and contentment. Whatever he'd done, whatever he said, he seemed to finally earn some of her trust.
He took her hand and raised it so her knuckles were brushing lips. "Goodnight, Sylf." He pressed his lips against her warm skin for a long moment. When he withdrew, he was pleased to see her flushed cheeks.
"Goodnight, Ephraim." Her voice, soft and hushed stayed with him as he went back into Tommy's bedroom and fell into a dreamless sleep.
~* Present Day *~
Ephraim stared out at the small boat as it rowed the odd party back to Lutven's shoreline. The tabaxi kept raving on about her friend "Love", and the halfling paladin was talking to the tiefling about the banners outside Periti's church. Sylf turned to look back at them, and he smiled at her, the sting from last night still present, but considerably dulled. Sylf still seemed like herself, but different too. She was more open and emotive than he remembered, and he liked seeing that side of her. Sylf's gaze shifted to Tommy and lingered, but Ephraim realized it didn't matter. Out of the little information he received, there were only two things of importance.
"Come, Tommy. We have a throne to take."
And, he decided, whether or not Sylf regained her memories, he had a woman to woo. Until he needed to take a queen, he wouldn't worry about it. While he and Sylf had previously come to an agreement on the boundaries of their relationship, it felt pointless now. Sylf was breathing, whole, and, goddess be praised, alive. He could give her the one night she'd asked him for so long ago. He would give her more than one night. He was done holding back.
Next time, he would be bold.