Arvid #2
Calix stepped forward slightly, his voice carrying gentle authority. "I think we should let Essin get some rest now."
Arvid nodded, rising from her chair and touching the girl's hand briefly. "Stay brave, sweetheart. We'll be back to check on you soon."
Essin's smile could have powered half of Ashvorn, bright and trusting and full of the resilience that made children such formidable patients. As they left her room, Arvid felt her resolve crystallize into something approaching steel.
One week.
She would find the answer, develop the treatment, and give this child her birthday wish if it killed her.
The corridor outside Essin's room felt charged with possibility and urgency in equal measure, the interview having provided exactly the kind of focused direction Arvid needed to channel her restless energy into productive action.
The afternoon stretched into evening as they moved methodically through the patient wing, each interview adding another piece to an increasingly complex puzzle.
Arvid's datapad filled with testimonies that should have provided clarity but instead created a web of contradictions.
Some patients remembered the ember-root stew, others recalled the crystallized fire-fruit.
But two items appeared in nearly every account, mentioned with the casual certainty of long-standing tradition: flame-kissed bread and flameroot tea.
Arvid stared at her notes as they left the final patient room, her scientific mind automatically sorting the data into patterns and probabilities. The numbers didn't lie—these two items appeared in over ninety percent of the interviews, far beyond statistical coincidence.
"Those items have been served for centuries," Calix said, reading her expression with unnerving accuracy. "It makes sense that people would consume them at gatherings. They're staples."
"That's exactly the problem," Arvid replied, frustration creeping into her voice. "If these foods have been safely consumed for generations, why now? What changed four months ago to transform traditional ingredients into poison?"
The question hung between them like a challenge to the natural order of Ashvorn itself.
Calix's jaw tightened, his green eyes reflecting the same frustration that gnawed at her.
Here was a man accustomed to finding solutions through decisive action, confronting a problem that refused to yield to authority or determination.
"Something in the preparation changed. Or the sourcing. Or the combination of ingredients. There has to be a variable we haven't identified," Calix said, his frustration mounting.
Her body thrummed with the need to return to the lab immediately. But when she turned toward the lab building, Calix's hand touched her elbow with gentle authority.
"It's after dinner time," he said softly. "You need to eat something substantial and get proper rest. Besides, the lab team said it would take time to complete the ingredient analysis."
Arvid opened her mouth to protest, her instincts screaming against the delay, but the words died when she caught sight of his expression.
There was concern there, genuine and unguarded, the kind of attention to her wellbeing that she hadn't experienced in years.
It should have irritated her—this assumption that he knew what was best for her physical needs. Instead, it sent warmth through her.
"I suppose we have hit a temporary standstill," she admitted reluctantly, the words tasting like defeat even though she knew they were rational.
His smile was small but devastatingly warm. "Exactly. And you can't solve Ashvorn's crisis running on fumes."
The walk back to Ashspire felt longer than usual, her body finally acknowledging the accumulated fatigue of the past few days.
She hadn't slept properly since leaving Earth, her mind too wired with the combination of alien environments, medical mysteries, and her increasingly complicated feelings about the man walking beside her.
The adrenaline that had sustained her through patient interviews was beginning to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that made her steps feel heavy.
Calix must have noticed her flagging energy because his pace slowed, matching her rhythm without making it obvious. The consideration was so subtle she might have missed it if she hadn't been hyperaware of his every movement.
"How about when we get back, you rest for a while," he suggested, his voice carefully casual. "I'll prepare dinner while you nap."
"That sounds reasonable," she said, surprised by her own acquiescence.
This man cares about me.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it filled her with a longing so intense it nearly stole her breath. She was craving things she'd convinced herself she didn't need. Shared meals. Shared moments. A partner who enhanced her strengths and anticipated her needs.
You're imagining a future with him.
The realization should have sent her running back to Texas. Instead, it made her want to lean into the possibility, to see what might grow between them if she stopped fighting it.
By the time they reached Ashspire, exhaustion was winning the battle against her restless energy.
Her guest suite welcomed her with its opulent comfort, but she barely registered the luxury as she collapsed onto the massive bed.
Sleep claimed her instantly, pulling her under with the force of accumulated fatigue and emotional overwhelm.
Her last conscious thought was wondering if Calix would actually follow through on his dinner promise.
When consciousness returned, the twin moons hung high outside her window like silver guardians watching over Ashvorn. The sight disoriented her—she'd expected to nap for an hour, maybe two. This looked like the deep of night.
Confusion propelled her from the bed and down the stairs toward the dining room, expecting to find Calix waiting with whatever meal he'd prepared. But the formal dining space stood empty, no place settings or food anywhere. The kitchen proved equally barren of both king and sustenance.
How long was I asleep?
The question nagged at her as she climbed the stairs to his private level, feeling like an intruder but needing answers.
The vast space opened before her, firelight casting dancing shadows across the expensive furnishings and ancient artifacts.
But instead of finding him at his usual spot on the sofa, she discovered him in bed, propped against pillows with reports scattered across the covers.
He looked up as she approached, his bare chest gilded by the moonlight streaming through the windows. The sight sent heat racing through her veins.
"You're finally awake," Calix said, his voice carrying warmth and something deeper that made her heart race.
She forced herself to focus on practical concerns. "What time is it?"
"Well past midnight."
The answer stopped her short. She'd slept for hours, not the brief rest she'd intended. "I didn't realize I'd slept that long. I'm sorry I missed dinner."
His expression softened with understanding. "You needed the rest. I can reheat what I prepared—"
"No, that's not necessary," she started to protest, but he was already moving, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"I'm reheating dinner," he said with quiet authority. "Stay here."
The command should have annoyed her. Instead, she found herself settling onto his massive bed as he disappeared down the stairs, the scent of him rising from the sheets and pillows like an embrace.
His bed was ridiculously comfortable, the kind of luxury that made her understand why royalty rarely left their palaces.
This is dangerous, she warned herself, even as she breathed deeper, letting his scent wrap around her senses. You're in the king's bed.
But when he returned with a plate of food that smelled like heaven, she couldn't summon the will to move. The sight of him approaching—still shirtless, still devastatingly attractive, carrying food he'd prepared specifically for her—did something to her defenses that felt irreversible.
"Here," he said, settling beside her on the bed with casual intimacy. "Don't move. You can eat comfortably here."
The way his eyes darkened as he watched her accept the plate sent heat spiraling through her. This felt impossibly intimate, sharing his bed and his food while moonlight painted silver across their skin.
As she ate, acutely aware of his presence beside her, she wondered why this felt so natural. Why sitting in the king's bed felt safe. Why every moment with him made her life on Earth seem like a pale imitation of actual living.
When she finished the meal and moved to leave, his voice stopped her.
"You don't have to leave this time."
The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. For once, Arvid found herself tired of running from what she truly wanted. And what she wanted, more than anything right now, was him.
Just for tonight. But maybe longer, if she was brave enough to admit it.