Chapter 22
As the days passed, our banter continued, and somewhere along the way, without any formal agreement or conscious decision, something between us shifted.
The change was subtle at first; nothing dramatic happened, and there was no single moment I could point to as the turning point.
It simply became easier.
Rhaevan settled into life at the inn with alarming efficiency.
His interruptions no longer felt intrusive, and his presence no longer felt disruptive.
Despite maintaining my sarcasm with strict discipline to ensure this arrangement stayed firmly within acceptable boundaries, I found myself getting used to him-to his quiet observations, his annoyingly well-timed assistance, and his tendency to appear exactly where I least expected him.
Most concerning of all, I had started accepting his help voluntarily and repeatedly, which, in hindsight, should have concerned me far more than it did.
Miss Ann, who had spent the better part of the years silently observing my daily struggles with what I could only describe as restrained disappointment, now seemed satisfied, and that alone was alarming.
Then there was Fluff.
The furry menace had fully integrated himself into the inn. Miss Ann adored him, Rhaevan tolerated him, and somehow, for reasons I still did not understand, the creature had developed an unsettling interest in me.
One afternoon, after the lunch rush had finally ended, I sat down on the wooden bench outside with a biscuit in hand, fully intending to enjoy ten uninterrupted minutes of peace.
That was my first mistake.
Fluff appeared silently, like a demon summoned by carbohydrates. He jumped onto the bench beside me and stared at the biscuit.
I looked at him, and he looked at me.
I narrowed my eyes. "No."
Fluff blinked slowly and deliberately.
I sighed. "This is not for you."
Fluff moved closer.
"No, Fluff."
He moved again.
"Fluff, I am warning you."
Without any regard for warnings, dignity, or personal boundaries, the cat jumped straight onto my lap.
I froze completely, staring down at him as he stared back. Then, as if this was the most natural thing in the world, he circled once and settled comfortably on my lap.
I did not move, breathe, or understand what was happening.
"Rhaevan."
He looked up from where he had been sorting supplies nearby. "Yes?"
"Your cat is on me."
Rhaevan glanced over, and a smile tugged at his lips. "I can see that."
"Do something."
"Like what?"
"Remove him."
Rhaevan walked over with entirely too much calm for someone witnessing a crisis. Fluff, traitor that he was, remained perfectly comfortable.
Rhaevan stopped in front of us and folded his arms. "He seems comfortable."
"I don't like comfortable."
"He likes you."
I stared. "He tried to murder me."
"That was weeks ago. Get over it Cassie."
"Get over it? What? Are you kidding me?"
Rhaevan's smile widened. "People change."
I looked at him in disbelief. "That is a cat."
"Cats change too."
"No, they don't; they just choose different methods of psychological warfare. And since when did I grant you the liberty of calling me Cassie?"
Rhaevan chuckled, warm, quiet, and unfairly pleasant.
I looked away, annoyed-very annoyed.
Fluff shifted slightly, pressing his head against my hand. I looked down, and despite every instinct insisting otherwise, I slowly lifted my hand and scratched behind his ears.
Fluff purred instantly and loudly.
I stared; the beast had betrayed his entire personality.
Rhaevan watched in silence for a moment before saying quietly, "You are gentler than you pretend to be."
I stiffened, and my hand stopped moving.
That was a dangerous statement-very dangerous-so naturally, I ignored it.
"You should leave before I throw both of you out."
Rhaevan smiled. "Yes.... Cassie."
He was still smiling when he walked away, and annoyingly enough, Fluff stayed on my lap.
I pretended not to enjoy it.
Naturally.
-
Amidst all this growing comfort and peace, however, something continued to nag at me, and the problem began quietly.
At first, I barely noticed it.
Rhaevan had always disappeared occasionally; sometimes he stepped outside, and sometimes he vanished for a short while before returning as though nothing had happened.
In the beginning, I paid little attention because people had lives, even suspiciously competent men with irritatingly calm expressions.
But then the absences became more frequent, longer, and more deliberate.
Ten minutes became thirty, thirty became an hour, and sometimes even more.
Every single time, he returned looking perfectly composed-too composed-as though he had not disappeared at all.
Naturally, I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
Miss Ann did not; she never questioned him.
Fluff certainly did not, as the cat remained loyal to whoever fed him and scratched behind his ears.
Furry Traitor.
Only I seemed to care.
One evening, I finally caught him returning through the back entrance after nearly an hour away.
I crossed my arms. "Where were you?"
Rhaevan looked up, his expression unchanged. "Outside."
I stared. "That answered absolutely nothing."
A faint smile touched his lips. "You asked where I was."
"And you are being deliberately unhelpful."
"I am answering truthfully."
I narrowed my eyes. "You disappeared for nearly an hour."
"I did."
"And?"
"And I am back."
I stared at him, stunned by the audacity.
"Do you enjoy being difficult?"
"Only occasionally."
"That is a lie."
He smiled, and I hated how disarming that smile was becoming.
Before I could press further, Miss Ann called from the kitchen. "Cassiane!"
I did not look away from him. "This conversation is not over."
Rhaevan's voice remained calm. "I know."
I turned and walked away, but the unease remained.
It settled quietly at the back of my mind, growing heavier with each passing day.
Something was off, and I could feel it.
The disappearances, the careful answers, and the way he always seemed prepared for my questions without actually answering them-none of it sat right.
And yet, every time suspicion rose, another thought pushed back.
Maybe I was overthinking.
Maybe he genuinely had reasons.
Maybe this was just me.
I had spent years expecting betrayal, danger, and hidden motives, so perhaps my mind had become too used to looking for threats, even where none existed.
Yes, that had to be it.
I was reading too much into things.
That was all.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Unfortunately, a small part of me refused to believe it.