Arvid
NINE
But the worst part wasn't remembering how good his body had felt beneath hers or how perfectly they'd moved together.
The worst part was remembering how safe she'd felt in his arms. How right being with him was.
How desperately she'd wanted to let him hold her through the night like she actually belonged somewhere.
"It was just sex," she muttered to her reflection while pulling on a practical blouse. "And dragon shifter pheromones. Completely explains why it felt so intense."
But even as she buttoned the blouse with sharp movements, her rationalizations crumbled like sand.
It hadn't been just sex or pheromones. It had been recognition.
The terrifying realization that someone actually saw her—not the disgraced soldier, not the isolated scientist, but the woman beneath all that armor who'd been holding herself hostage for three years.
She yanked on her black slacks with more force than necessary.
The problem with Calix wasn't that he was a dragon shifter or a king or impossibly attractive.
The problem was that he made her want things she'd sworn off.
Made her imagine what it might feel like to trust someone completely.
To let someone close enough that she could get hurt again.
Arvid laced her boots with military precision, each meticulous pull and carefully tied knot reminding her who she was now.
A woman who'd learned the hard way that people betrayed you, that the people you trusted most would sacrifice you for their own benefit, and that building walls wasn't paranoia—it was survival.
She'd spent the past three years constructing a life that worked.
A tiny lab where she saved lives on her terms without risking her heart.
It wasn't everything she'd once dreamed of, but it was enough.
Except last night had felt like everything and made her realize that maybe enough wasn't acceptable anymore. And that was precisely why she'd run.
She left her guest suite and made her way to the grand staircase.
Within minutes, the grand foyer of Ashspire soon stretched before her, her footsteps echoing off the pyrestone walls that radiated warmth even in the early morning.
She'd braced herself to face Calix, had spent the entire walk rehearsing how she'd keep things professional and distant.
How she'd pretend that sharing his dinner and his body hadn't rearranged something fundamental inside her.
Instead, a lean young man with perfect military posture rose from a chair near the entrance.
His dark brown hair fell slightly too long across grey eyes that held a perpetual expression of mild concern, and when he straightened to his full height, every line of his body screamed disciplined warrior.
"Dr. Jasper?" His voice carried the crisp formality of someone who took his duties seriously. "I'm Tal, your escort."
Right. Her babysitter.
Arvid extended her hand and found his grip firm but respectful. "Just Arvid is fine."
A hint of relief flickered across Tal's features. "His Majesty explained the situation with Elder Cevryn yesterday. I understand this arrangement isn't ideal for you."
"How diplomatic of him." She couldn't keep the edge from her voice.
Of course Calix had briefed Tal on the council meeting.
Probably told him exactly how she found the whole supervision requirement utterly ridiculous.
"But yes, I'm not thrilled about having a shadow, yet I understand the politics involved. "
"I promise I'll stay out of your way as much as possible," Tal said, and something in his earnest tone made her believe him. "You won't even know I'm there."
Despite her mood, Arvid found herself smiling.
There was something refreshingly straightforward about Tal—no hidden agendas, no political calculations, just a young warrior trying to do his job without making her life more difficult than it already was.
"Thanks for that. I have a feeling I'm going to like you, Tal. "
They stepped out into the morning heat together, the air already thick with volcanic warmth and the distant scent of sulfur from the Caldran volcano.
The massive caldera dominated the horizon, a silent reminder that this alien world operated by different rules than Earth.
Just like everything else that had happened since she'd met Gerri Wilder two days ago.
As they walked toward the Hearthring district in companionable silence, Arvid tried to ignore the persistent tug in her chest—a magnetic pull toward wherever Calix might be at this moment.
She told herself it was residual attraction.
Dragon shifter pheromones lingering in her system.
Definitely not any growing connection between them.
But the truth whispered through her defenses anyway. She missed him. Missed his presence beside her, the way his authority created a bubble of safety around them, the rare moments when his careful control slipped and she glimpsed the man beneath the crown.
Professional distance, she reminded herself.
That's what this situation required. She would throw herself into solving the Ash Fever outbreak. Make work the top priority like she always did when emotions threatened to complicate her life. Work was safe. Work was controllable. Work didn't ask her to trust it with her heart.
The pyrestone streets warmed beneath her feet as they made their way through Ashvorn's morning bustle, and Arvid forced herself to focus on the medical mystery ahead rather than the king she'd left behind.
But she couldn't deny that things had irrevocably changed between them—she could feel it in the way her body still hummed with awareness and in the phantom sensation of his touch that lingered on her skin.
But compartmentalizing was her specialty.
It had gotten her through her parents' divorce, through a military tribunal, through three years of rebuilding her life from scratch. It would get her through this too.
When they finally arrived at the front entrance of the main medical building, Tal fell into step beside the entrance, his posture shifting into something that looked distinctly like a guard assuming position.
"I'll wait out here until you're done for the day," he said, settling against the wall with practiced ease.
Arvid paused, studying his face for any hint of resentment about being relegated to escort duty. Instead, she found only professional acceptance.
"Thanks for respecting my need for space."
"Not a problem." Tal's grey eyes held genuine understanding. "I've worked with enough people to know that hovering doesn't help anyone."
Arvid nodded and stepped inside the building, finding the corridors buzzing with morning activity—healers moving between rooms, assistants carrying supplies, the quiet hum of voices discussing treatments and progress.
Arvid navigated toward the lab, her mind already shifting into analytical mode.
Work had always been her sanctuary, the one place where emotions couldn't complicate outcomes and where her competence spoke louder than her past mistakes.
But even as she focused on the task ahead, a persistent awareness tugged at her consciousness.
Somewhere in this territory, Calix was going about his morning routine.
Probably reviewing reports, making decisions, carrying the weight of every citizen on his shoulders.
The memory of his exhausted expression by the fire last night flickered through her mind, followed immediately by the sensation of his hands on her skin.
Focus, she reminded herself sharply.
Dorn was waiting at the lab's central workspace when she finally entered the lab, a small rectangular device in his weathered hands. His tired eyes brightened when he spotted her approach, and she caught a glimpse of hope beneath his perpetual exhaustion.
"Here's your new datapad," he said, extending the device toward her. "All my compiled notes are on there for you to review."
Arvid accepted the datapad, surprised by its light weight and the way the surface seemed to respond to her touch.
The display flickered to life, revealing a series of clearly marked files organized with precision.
Medical histories, symptom progressions, treatment attempts, environmental factors—everything cataloged with surprising thoroughness.
"This is incredibly organized," she said, scrolling through the file structure. "I can tell you put a lot of time and effort into this yesterday."
A flush of pride crossed Dorn's features. "Four months of data took some time to organize, but it should be easy to navigate now."
"Thank you for this." Arvid's respect for the healer climbed another notch.
In her military experience, the difference between success and disaster often came down to thoroughness and efficiency.
"I'll review all of it and meet up with you later.
Do you happen to have a cafeteria here? I didn't eat breakfast and I really could use some coffee. "
Dorn's expression shifted to something almost fatherly. "Exit the lab, go down the corridor and hang a left to the connecting corridor. It's at the end of that corridor." He paused. "And the coffee tastes better than it looks."
"Thanks." She found herself smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "I'll check back soon."
Minutes later, the cafeteria occupied a bright corner space with large windows overlooking one of Ashvorn's residential districts.
Arvid approached the vending machines with scientific curiosity—everything here should be safe for human consumption, and cross-species contamination seemed unlikely given her completely different physiology.
Besides, she was genuinely hungry, and hunger made thinking more difficult.
She stared at the coin slot, realizing with mild embarrassment that she had no local currency. Before she could figure out an alternative, a warm voice spoke behind her.
"Need some coins?"
Arvid turned to find a petite woman with long black hair and bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle with perpetual mischief. Jewelry adorned her fingers and wrists, creating tiny musical sounds when she moved, and her smile held the kind of genuine warmth that immediately put people at ease.
"I'm Lyssi," the woman said, pressing several coins into Arvid's palm. "Calix's cousin. And you must be Arvid—the human scientist here to help Dorn and his team stop Ash Fever."
"That's me." Arvid accepted the coins gratefully. "I appreciate this. I hadn't thought about the currency situation."
"Calix mentioned you'd arrived yesterday." Lyssi's eyes held a knowing gleam that made Arvid wonder exactly what Calix had shared. "I'm grateful you said yes to coming here. We've all been so worried, especially after little Essin got sick."
The mention of the young girl from yesterday sent a sharp pang through Arvid's chest. She thought of Essin's disappointment about missing her First Rising, about the trust in those young eyes when Arvid had promised to help.
"I'm going to do everything I can," Arvid said, meaning it completely.
Lyssi seemed to sense her urgency. "Well, I'll let you get to work then. I'm sure I'll see you around."
Alone again, Arvid purchased a wrapped pastry and coffee that smelled surprisingly familiar. She settled at a table surrounded by other medical staff eating their breakfast, turned her attention to the datapad, and dove into Dorn's meticulously organized files.
Fifteen minutes later, the data painted a troubling picture, but not in the way she'd expected.
Ash Fever wasn't randomly distributed across Ashvorn's population.
Instead, it clustered heavily in specific districts—primarily areas where working-class citizens lived and worked.
The Commons district showed the highest concentration of cases, followed by portions of the Hearthring district.
Meanwhile, the wealthy Rimward district reported significantly fewer infections.
Arvid cross-referenced patient addresses with their listed occupations. Merchants, crafters, laborers, apprentice healers—all showing elevated infection rates. But wealthy estate owners, council members, and noble families remained largely unaffected.
Environmental exposure, her mind concluded immediately.
Something the working population encountered regularly that the wealthy didn't.
She pushed back from the table and made her way back to the lab, finding Dorn's small office tucked into the corner of the lab. When she entered, he looked up from his own datapad, hope and apprehension warring in his expression.
"I've reviewed your notes," Arvid said without preamble. "This is definitely something environmental. The demographic distribution is too clear to be coincidental."
Dorn leaned forward. "We tested the water systems extensively. Multiple samples from different districts and different sources. Nothing was contaminated there."
"What about other environmental factors? Food sources, building materials, local vegetation?"
"The main components we use throughout Ashvorn are pyrestone for construction and ember grass for various applications.
" Dorn rubbed his temples. "We tested both.
Neither showed any harmful properties—pyrestone actually has some beneficial mineral content and ember grass has been used safely for generations. "
Arvid's military training kicked in, the same pattern recognition skills that had helped her identify contamination sources in conflict zones. "What do people in the working districts do that the wealthy don't usually do? Where do they go that council members and nobles typically avoid?"
"The Commons market," Dorn said slowly. "It's where most working families buy their daily necessities, their food, and their supplies. And where they gather for communal events."
A memory surfaced—Calix mentioning yesterday that Dorn had restricted his diet, preventing him from eating or drinking anything from the public market.
The king of Ashvorn, who should theoretically have the greatest exposure to his people and their environments, was being carefully isolated from market goods and communal events.
"I need to see that market," Arvid said, standing abruptly.
Excitement flickered in Dorn's tired eyes. "You think it's something there?"
Arvid's pulse quickened with the familiar thrill of a breakthrough forming on the horizon. "I'm not sure, but it seems like the first logical place to check."