Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
As the market began to wind down with the setting sun, Oaklin’s nerves ratcheted higher and higher. The crown stared at them from under the counter as they packed up their few remaining goods, silently rehearsing the words they wanted to say over and over again.
The words to ask for what they wanted. For a real relationship.
Dancers laughed and whirled through the square, lit in flickering firelight and joy as they spun.
Bram nearly lost his crown in the fire when Alin attempted a too-acrobatic dance move, but it was quickly recovered to much applause and good-natured ribbing.
The evening chill had fully set in, but no one seemed to notice; between the fires, the crowds, and the constant movement of loading crates, Oaklin was plenty warm.
They even spotted Ms. Chanda cozying up to Sammy the tavernkeep, an unexpectedly sweet sight that had them grinning through the last of their duties.
Finally, there was nothing left to be packed. The cart was full. Grumpy Horse had fresh water and feed. It was time.
With a deep breath to calm their racing heart, Oaklin headed across the square to where Lior was leading a group of kids in a silly dance to the tune of Jules’s rollicking performance.
They stood on the edge of the crowd, laughing and clapping along with all the other onlookers until the last note rang out.
Lior gave out high fives and accepted hugs from several kids, cooing at Grer’s new baby boy, and then looked up and caught Oaklin’s eye.
A slow smile spread over her face as she wove around the kids to get to Oaklin’s side.
“Hey, Oak! All finished?” she asked, still slightly out of breath from the dance. “Me too, actually. Let’s go find…”
She trailed off as she noticed the crown in Oaklin’s hands, then looked back up to meet Oaklin’s gaze.
Moment of truth. Oaklin took a deep breath and…
Every single word they’d planned to say fled their brain like the place was on fire. They mentally scrambled for all their carefully planned words, for everything they wanted the crown to convey, but were met only with the flood of feelings that lived behind the words.
In the end, there was only one thing left to do.
“Will you accept this crown?” they said, their voice hoarse.
Lior’s concerned expression broke into her trademark broad smile. “You goose, of course I’ll be your date to the festival. Why do you seem so nervous? Is everything okay?”
Oaklin swallowed hard, forcing their hands to relax and not squeeze the crown to death.
“Actually, I was thinking of something…more. I’d like to be with you in a more sort of…
official capacity? Gods and grains, that makes it sound like a village council position.
Beyond just this festival night, I mean. You and me. Is that…”
Lior saved Oaklin from their own babbling, stepping forward to take the crown from Oaklin’s shaking hands. “I would be honored to wear your crown…and to be with you. Thank you, Oaklin. And actually, I—hold on one second…”
With a flourish, Lior produced a second crown from a belt hook. “I got one for you too. I was hoping for…well, exactly this, I guess! May I?”
She held her hand out to Oaklin, and they took it, letting Lior place the crown atop their head.
Once the leaves were safely nestled in Oaklin’s curls, they stepped into the circle of her arms and just let themself be held.
Lior’s hand ran soothingly up and down their back, and despite the whole armor situation, it was the best hug Oaklin could remember.
Which wasn’t saying much, but at least that thought didn’t provoke the despair it once did.
After a moment, Lior pulled back and looked down at Oaklin.
“Hey, do you mind coming back to my quarters for a minute?” she asked, suddenly serious.
“I know it might be uncomfortable for you to enter a temple of the Three Above, so it’s completely fine if you say no.
There’s just something important I have to do, and I’d like you to be there for it. What do you think?”
A variety of scenarios flashed through Oaklin’s mind for what the “something important” could be, some rather spicier than others; those were immediately discarded, though, given Lior’s grave expression. Important indeed, it seemed, and that gave Oaklin all the courage they needed.
“I’ll go with you,” they said. “I might hide behind you if Sister Talla walks by, but I’ll be there.”
At that, a shadow of Lior’s former grin reappeared. “Let’s go.”
Lior led Oaklin by the hand toward the temple, snagging them two hot ciders to sip at on the way.
Once they arrived, Lior waited patiently at the threshold of the temple while Oaklin worked through a moment of anxiety, and then led Oaklin downstairs to a hallway full of doors—living quarters for all of the temple’s clergy and staff.
Lior paused in front of the door at the end of the hallway, took a breath, and then opened it, gesturing for Oaklin to go in.
The room was small, smaller even than Ryn’s tiny living space behind the bakery.
Despite the size, though, Lior had managed to pack it full of personality.
The bedside table had two half-drank cups of tea and a glass of water wedged on there in the scant inches not occupied by books.
In fact, every flat surface in the room, including the floor, had at least two books on it.
A badly dented and roughed up golden pauldron sat on a low bookshelf, used as a bookend but clearly possessed of its own story.
A threadbare woven cloth with an intricate design hung over the side of the shelf, looking nearly as old as Lior herself—a relic from her birthplace, perhaps?
And, in the corner near the foot of the bed, there was a simple metal stand designed to hold a set of heavy plate armor with an open, half-filled bag of clothing below it.
Once the door was shut behind her, Lior approached the stand and silently began removing her ceremonial armor, piece by piece.
Any thought Oaklin had of the intimate places this might be going were put to rest by the silent, solemn reverence with which Lior carefully placed each piece on the stand.
It wasn’t quite as complex as a full set of combat armor would be—it lacked most of the protective under layers and chain that would provide full coverage, and it was designed to be put on and taken off without aid.
It was still a lot, though—solid plates that covered the legs and arms, half gauntlets, pauldrons, and a full decorative breastplate and backplate, all shined to perfection.
Each piece went onto the armor stand, balanced with the ease of repetition, the entire ritual conducted in silence broken only by the occasional clank of the plates.
Finally, with the armor done, Lior drew her sword, slow and careful in such a confined space, and laid it on the bed with reverence.
Then she removed her sword belt and gambeson, tossing them into the clothing bag.
Once she was down to her simple tunic and breeches, she turned to Oaklin with a crooked smile and held her arms out from her sides.
“Well…this is me, now,” she said, letting her arms flop against her sides. “As of now, I’m no longer a paladin of the Three Above.”
Oaklin gasped, their hands flying to cover their mouth.
“Wow,” they managed through a swelling ball of hope and relief in their throat, eyes scanning this new Lior, who already seemed different somehow. “This is huge. This is… Is congratulations the right thing to say? How are you…feeling about it?”
Lior took a deep breath and the uncertainty in her expression cleared.
“Good, I think. Really good. I sat down with Elder Varron earlier this week to talk about it, and he helped me get some clarity. A life in the service of community—and of the Three Above—doesn’t have to mean a formal role in the church.
It doesn’t have to mean being a paladin forever. ”
She shook her head, chuckling. “I felt like I owed it to the Three, but Elder Varron seems to think I’ve done more than enough to ‘pay off my imaginary childhood debt.’ So, I’m moving out of the temple as soon as I find a place to stay.
My duties with the temple are officially over, so I’ll be looking for a job too. ”
Oaklin took in this new Lior, who seemed so much smaller without the armor, in some ways. And yet she also seemed to stand taller without the burden of her sword, the ties on her loyalty. Still strong, still brave, but somehow softer. Free.
“You’ll have plenty of options,” Oaklin said, hesitating over the words they really wanted to say. “Everyone will be happy to help you get settled, I’m sure. Maybe Ryn could even convince you to be the assistant he so desperately needs. But…”
The words again. They stuck in Oaklin’s throat, fear building a solid barrier without the slightest crack or weakness. They didn’t deserve Lior. Who were they to make any sort of ask, to offer any sort of suggestion? They had no right—
The second Oaklin became aware of the spiraling panic and self-recrimination, Emiline’s training kicked in. Oaklin paused. Pressed a hand to their chest. Breathed. Rewrote the narrative.
I am someone who has recent experience with starting over and building a new life. I am Lior’s partner. I am allowed to speak.
I am safe.
“Feel free to say no to this,” Oaklin began.
“But you could consider just…staying with me over the winter. Take some time to think about what you want. Help me do some winter preserving. Read some of those books by the fire with me. There’s no pressure, and I know it’s a big step when I’ve only just asked you to be my partner, but—”
“I’d love to,” Lior said, her expression some mix of terrified-grateful-wondering. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can figure something else out, but I—”
Their next words came in a mishmash.
“No, no, I want this!”
“—really do want this.”