Chapter Eight #3
I chuckled to myself before I took a seat across from Aila on what used to be Petyr’s chair. Ellyn slipped into the seat I’d pulled out for her, and once we were both settled, we eyed the two remaining soldiers.
The man next to Aila was avoiding eye contact at all costs.
He sipped from his own mug and stared at the wall with one green eye and one blue.
His ears were only slightly pointed, with an elegant pinch at the end.
And when Aila tucked a lock of her short black hair that barely reached her shoulders behind her ear, I spotted that she had the same kind of ears, too.
They looked ridiculously alike. It wasn’t just because of the ears and the same hair color. Their features were similar, too. They had the same elegant facial structure, with soft noses, delicate eyebrows, and almond-shaped eyes.
“So…” I began. “Are you two related?”
The half-elf beside her spluttered on the mouthful of ale he was sipping, and while his body racked with violent coughs, Aila reached out and smacked his gold-plated back.
“We’re not siblings,” the female soldier said. “We’re from the same Isle.”
“And what Isle might that be?” I asked.
“The Tei’lorran Isles,” she said.
“Tei’lorran?” Ellyn’s light blue eyes widened. “That’s very far away from Mystica.”
“Yes,” Aila said softly. “Iro and I crossed the sea together many years ago.”
“That must have been one hell of a journey,” I commented. “Was Mystica always your destination?”
“More like happenstance,” Aila said as she and Iro shared a look once he’d stopped choking on his own drink. “A good one, at that.”
“I bet,” I said. “You ended up working for the king.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll sit with Kryyk and Petyr, too,” Iro said as he suddenly stood up and snatched his drink from the table.
“Iro,” the dark-haired woman pleaded in a gentle voice. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t really fancy sharing my life story with a randomer from Gladewood, of all places,” the half-elf snapped before he glanced down at me. “No offense.”
I scoffed in disbelief but raised my mug so he wouldn’t debate sticking around.
If I had Aila on her own, I was more likely to get some kind of useful information out of her. She seemed the softest out of the bunch, and she’d already told me where she was from. Isolated, she might tell me even more.
“Fine,” she said in a short, clipped tone. “Apparently, I’m the only one with manners.”
“Be proud of it.” Iro winked before he hurried away to Kryyk and Petyr’s table.
“I apologize on their behalf,” Aila said as she eyed me and Ellyn with those swirling violet eyes. “They don’t mean to be so…”
“Rude?” I finished for her but then waved my hand. “It’s fine. I suppose I haven’t been the most welcoming person since you arrived.”
“I don’t blame you,” the pretty half-elf admitted. “Our arrival is, I’m sure, surprising, to say the least. And if you truly have been attacked so often, trusting newcomers is probably not something you’re used to.”
“Well, if you’re staying here for now, I suppose we need to learn to get along,” I said as I rested my elbows on the table and leaned in a little closer. “Otherwise, it’s going to be shit for all of us.”
Aila nodded as a soft pink flush tinted her cheeks. She lifted her mug to her lips and avoided my gaze, but I already felt like I was getting somewhere with her.
Before I could think of my next move, the door to the back room of the inn swung open, and Frederik stepped out.
As soon as the old man spotted Ellyn, his shoulders relaxed, and he beckoned his daughter over to the barstools closest to the door.
“I’ll take my leave so I can speak with my father,” Ellyn said. “If you’ll excuse me, Aila.”
Aila’s violet eyes widened as Ellyn stood up, and the realization that she was about to be left alone with me quickly set in.
“Oh.” The soldier blinked. “I… of course.”
Ellyn smiled sweetly before she leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“Be nice,” she murmured. “She doesn’t seem too bad.”
“‘Ye of little faith,” I whispered back. “I’m always nice.”
Ellyn chuckled as she made her way over to her father, and once she was settled on the barstool, I finally turned my attention back to Aila.
She looked so small all of a sudden, as if she was purposefully shrinking herself down under the weight of my stare. Her shoulders were curled inward, and she kept the mug pressed to her lips with a delicate hand.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” I said. “We’re just talking.”
“I’m not exactly used to talking to strangers,” she quietly admitted into her mug.
It was surprising how meek she seemed to be. She was one hell of a fighter on the battlefield, but in the quiet of everyday life and conversation, she was like a delicate flower.
The group of men who abandoned us bellowed loudly from the corner of the room, but here Aila was, quietly sipping her ale and avoiding my stare.
She was a far cry from someone like Raeth, who was as tough on the battlefield as she was in person. The half-orc could pin you down with her stare and have you shaking in your boots, and she didn’t bother to honey her words or soften her tone.
But Aila seemed different. And I was intrigued how someone like her ended up as a Hand of the king.
“Why leave Tei’Lorran?” I asked bluntly.
My question made her violet eyes widen, and her throat constricted as she choked on a mouthful of her ale in a much more graceful manner than Iro.
“It… war had broken out, if you must know,” Aila admitted as she placed her mug onto the table. “Civil war.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “What was it that drew you to the king?”
“Is this an interrogation?” Aila raised an eyebrow. “Because it certainly feels like one.”
“No.” I shrugged my shoulders casually and leaned back in my chair. “I’m just curious.”