5
Ten minutes later, Shirayuki found herself seated before a roaring fire in a small kitchen, bundled head to foot in blankets and wearing another ridiculously large borrowed shirt. But it was soft and dry and warm, and the chill slowly fell from her limbs. She flexes her fingers and toes experimentally. They're stiff, but they move, numbness gradually fading. She had prepared medicines for several frostbite cases recently, and was glad to avoid it herself.
After ensuring that she was comfortable and beginning to thaw, Obi vanishes into another room to change out of his own snow-soaked clothes. When he emerges a few moments later, clad in dark tunic and slacks, he heads directly for the small stove in the corner, pulling a kettle down from its high perch amongst pots and pans.
Shirayuki burrowed deeper into her blanket cocoon and glanced around. She had never seen where he lived. His room at the Checkpoint was surprising large—a suite of rooms, in fact. Obi's rank as Immediate Knight to the Second Prince of Clairnes came with some perks after all... But between his duties at the Checkpoint and the Night Watch and assisting her, he probably didn't spend much time here. He likely slept more on his favorite sofa at the pharmacy than in his own bed—they had all gotten in the habit of leaving a blanket and a pillow out for him.
The kettle whistled shrilly, and Obi removed it from the stovetop. Shirayuki silently wished that her room at Scholar's Street had a stove. Then she wouldn't have to go all the way to the kitchens whenever she wanted hot water. She watches with some measure of envy as he prepares two cups of tea, then carries them over to the fireplace, offering one to her.
"Mmm. Thank you," she curls her fingers around the cup, sighing as the warmth spread throughout her palms. She puffs at the rising tendrils of steam and takes a slow sip.
Obi stands at her elbow, holding his own steaming cup of tea, watching her closely from the corner of his eye. Her color was improving. No sign of frostbite, and only mild hypothermia. Good, good. That takes care of one problem.
"Miss, how many people saw you running through Lyrias in your bedclothes?"
Shirayuki coughs into her tea. She hadn't even considered that, in her rush to chase after him.
But even in Lyrias, the rumors, the whispers, the sidelong glances—all trail her every move like the long shadows at sunset. Only here, the greater portion of her fame stemmed from her own work during the outbreak of Olin Maris poisoning and the subsequent quarantine.
She tries to remember if she passed anyone on the streets. There was a pair of soldiers who definitely saw her, when she darted onto the high path near the Checkpoint, but…
Then she sneaks a glance at Obi. He's still acting strange. Staring into his tea. Silent. Not his usual talkative smirking self.
And that was her fault.
Shirayuki sets her tea down on the table beside the chair. Harder than she intended. She jumps a little, at the loud clatter, then composes herself.
"I— I don't care," she states, simply.
"Miss..." Obi turns to face her, the tiniest hint of a sigh in his tone.
She whirls in the chair to stare up at him. "If you think I should be more worried about tomorrow's gossip then—then what I just did to you, then—" she abruptly trails off.
He places his own untouched cup of tea on the table next to hers.
"...Then what?" he prompts, after a long pause, his face impossible to read.
"...Then, you'd be mistaken," she finishes quietly, returning her guilty gaze to the hands trembling in her lap.
Obi does sigh then, and runs a hand through his wiry hair, eyes drifting once more to the scar. He turns his attention back to the crackling fire.
"I just want to know what to expect come morning." Smoothing things over with the guards was the very least he could do.
But Shirayuki is adamant. "Don't worry about it, Obi. If there are any problems, I'll handle it myself."
"I worry about these things so you don't have to." The soldiers would surely keep quiet if he asked them to.
"I said I'll handle it," a touch of frustration creeps back into her voice.
"Miss—"
"Well—how many people saw you sneaking me in here?" she demands, recalling how Obi ducked and dodged the Checkpoint's night watch.
"None," he replies, matter-of-fact. And it was true. Obi moved like the wind when he didn't want to be seen—the most one might glimpse was some small sign of his presence long after he was already gone.
Shirayuki curls her fingers one by one around the edge of a blanket, squeezing until her knuckles turn white.
"Helping you is my job," Obi reminds her. And right now she was making it very, very difficult.
"I don't need to be coddled," she mutters, almost under her breath. Why wasn't he backing off already?
"Then don't coddle me, either!" he snaps back.
"Wh—" she stares at him, shocked equally by his words and his tone, "When have I ever—"
"You're doing it right now!" he exhales sharply and spins to face her flashing emerald eyes.
To face the scar.
"What are you talking about?" she exclaims, jumping to her feet, standing on her toes, meeting him head on.
"I was there to protect you, and I failed!"