22. Draven
DRAVEN
The crowd's collective smile makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Mrs. Penwhistle clasps her hands together with the delighted expression of someone witnessing a long-anticipated engagement announcement. Alma nods approvingly from her stall, and even the visiting merchants exchange knowing glances.
My grunt—that automatic, meaningless sound I make when cornered—has just sealed a future I never agreed to.
"Oh, Draven." Vaelis's fingers reach for my forearm, her touch light but possessive. "I knew you'd come around to seeing reason."
I jerk backward before her skin makes contact, the movement sharp enough to make several onlookers blink in surprise. The space between us suddenly feels charged with tension rather than intimacy.
"I didn't—" The words stick in my throat as I scan the gathered faces, all beaming at me with congratulatory warmth.
My gaze sweeps across the festival grounds until it lands on Isolde's honey stall.
She stands behind her carefully arranged display, speaking with a travel-worn woman who examines jars with obvious appreciation.
Even from this distance, I can see the professional composure in Isolde's posture, the way she gestures to explain her different varieties.
Pride surges through me—fierce and unexpected. She's built something here, carved out her own space in a town that initially saw her as temporary. The customer reaches for multiple jars, and I catch the flash of Isolde's genuine smile as she completes what's clearly a successful sale.
But then I remember last night. The dinner she'd made for me that I missed because of my duties to the village.
The weight of that failure sits heavy in my chest as I watch her lean forward to answer the customer's question. Professional. Composed. Independent. Everything she's always been, everything that drew me to her in the first place.
"Draven?" Vaelis's voice carries a note of uncertainty now, her perfect composure cracking slightly. "Where are you going?"
I don't answer. My feet are already carrying me away from the fountain, away from the expectant crowd, toward the honey stall where Isolde continues her conversation as if the world hasn't just tilted off its axis.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Thornak's bulk blocks my path like a mountain deciding to relocate. His dark eyes burn with an intensity I've rarely seen directed at me, and his massive hands curl into fists at his sides.
I pull up short, genuinely taken aback. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me." His voice carries the low rumble of distant thunder. "Half the town just watched you publicly agree to this ridiculous fantasy Vaelis has been spreading, and now you're stomping off toward Isolde like some lovesick pup."
"I didn't claim anyone." The words come out harsher than intended. "I made a sound. People heard what they wanted to hear."
"A sound." Thornak's laugh holds no humor. "You stood there while she painted a picture of your future together and you grunted like you were agreeing to the whole damn thing."
The accusation hits because it's accurate. I did stand there. I did let it happen. Just like I've let everything else happen—letting the town define my role, letting Vaelis assume my availability, letting Isolde think I don't care enough to prioritize her.
"I was caught off guard."
"You're always caught off guard when it comes to making actual choices." Thornak steps closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "You think you can just drift through this without hurting anyone? Without taking responsibility for what you want?"
The accusation lights a fire in my chest that burns away any restraint I've been clinging to.
"Responsibility?" I step forward, matching his aggressive posture.
"You want to talk about responsibility? Your wife corners me at the bakery, assigns me to watch over Isolde for her safety.
You pull me aside later, tell me I'm getting distracted, need to focus on my duties.
Now you're here berating me for not giving her enough attention? "
Thornak's jaw works, but I don't give him space to interrupt.
"Make up your damn minds." My voice carries across the festival grounds, drawing glances from nearby vendors. "First I'm supposed to protect her, then ignore her, now I'm supposed to what—publicly declare my intentions while half the town watches? Which box am I supposed to fit into this time?"
The words pour out with years of accumulated frustration behind them.
"I'm tired of being shoved into whatever role is most convenient for everyone else at any given moment.
The silent protector when you need threats eliminated.
The available bachelor when someone needs a match made.
The dependable fool who'll stand there and take whatever assumptions people want to make about my life. "
Thornak's aggressive stance falters slightly, his massive shoulders dropping as my words land. The fire in his dark eyes dims to something more thoughtful, more troubled.
"Draven—"
"I'm not finished." I cut him off, my hands clenching into fists.
"Twelve years I've lived on the outskirts of this place.
Twelve years of letting people decide who I am and what I want without ever asking.
And now when I finally find something—someone—that matters, everyone has an opinion about how I should handle it. "
The festival noise continues around us, but our corner feels isolated, charged with tension that's been building for far too long.
Thornak runs a hand through his dark hair, his expression shifting from anger to something approaching regret. "Fuck. You're right."
The admission catches me off guard, deflating some of my rage.
"You do have a point about the mixed signals." He sighs heavily, the sound carrying genuine frustration. "Maddie means well, but she gets ideas in her head. And I... I was worried you'd lose focus when the town needs you most."
He shakes his head, returning his stare to match mine.
"But that doesn't change the fact that your constant avoidance is what got you into this mess in the first place." His voice gentles slightly, but the truth in it stings. "You never assert yourself. Never tell anyone what you actually want. So they fill in the blanks with their own assumptions."
He gestures toward the fountain where Vaelis still stands, surrounded by congratulatory townspeople. "Just like right now. Half the town thinks she's secured her match, and the other half—" His gaze shifts toward Isolde's stall. "The other half probably believes it too."
Thornak's expression shifts, the anger draining from his features and replaced by something more protective, more personal. He crosses his arms over his massive chest, his voice taking on a different quality—quieter, but somehow more dangerous.
"You want to know something else? Isolde's practically family to us now. Maddie's claimed her as a sister, which makes her my responsibility too." His dark eyes narrow. "And I don't like watching family get jerked around by someone who can't make up his damn mind."
The words wound like a physical blow. I've been so focused on my own internal struggle, my own confusion about what the town expects, that I haven't considered how my indecision affects her.
"You think she doesn't know about Vaelis?" Thornak continues, his tone relentless. "You think she missed the way that elf positions herself next to you at every public gathering? The way people talk about you two like it's inevitable?"
My stomach drops as the pieces fall into place. Of course Isolde knows. She's observant, intelligent—she's probably been watching this unfold for weeks.
"And then you show up at her door when it's convenient for you, leave when duty calls, miss dinners she's prepared." Thornak shakes his head. "What message do you think that sends?"
The memory of last night crashes over me with fresh humiliation. The careful way she'd set the table, the meal she'd prepared with ingredients from her own garden. The way her face had carefully composed itself when I hadn't shown.
"She made dinner." The admission comes out rough. "I was supposed to be there. Got pulled away on patrol and by the time I finished..."
"By the time you finished, she'd already cleaned up and gone to bed." Thornak's voice carries no sympathy. "Because she's got pride, and she's not going to sit around waiting for scraps of your attention."
Heat crawls up my neck as the truth settles into my bones. I haven't been protecting anyone by staying neutral. I've been a coward, taking what I want from Isolde while letting everyone else believe I'm available elsewhere.
"You want her?" Thornak's question cuts through my self-recrimination. "Then you need to make it clear that Vaelis was never an option. Not just to the town—to Isolde herself."
I glance toward the honey stall where Isolde continues her business, professional and composed. The customer she's been helping finally makes her purchases, gathering several jars before moving on. Isolde begins rearranging her display, each movement efficient and purposeful.
"She thinks I'm choosing duty over her." The realization tastes bitter. "She thinks Vaelis is the safer option, the one the town prefers."
"Isn't she?" Thornak's bluntness stings because it's accurate. "You've never given her reason to think otherwise. Never stood up to the assumptions, never prioritized her over your obligations to everyone else."
The weight of my failures settles heavy in my chest. Every missed dinner, every interrupted conversation, every time I've let someone else define what I want instead of claiming it myself.