19. Clear the air
Clear the air
I n the following days, Isolde had little chance to speak with Felix alone.
Their argument in the Crovan village weighed heavily on her, and her outburst at him heavier still.
He never brought it up and did not act any differently, but the whole business with Beorn and Asara and then the mercenaries and Leif’s injury had disrupted something between them.
Something small, and maybe foolish on her part, but something.
Getting to know Leif made up for some of it.
He was endlessly curious, and they spent hours discussing plants and animals – which he knew far more about than she did – or history and astronomy, which she had him beat at.
She didn’t need to measure her words or worry about ranting about a subject for too long with Leif, because he ranted for even longer than she did.
Leif was not a welcome friend to only her, either.
He changed the entire dynamic of their group far more than Isolde had expected.
A constant stream of talk overtook their rides and evenings.
No amount of Luella’s pointed sighs, Garren’s grunts, or Felix’s increasingly creative huffs could dissuade Leif from telling stories, asking personal questions, and sharing terrible jokes at any opportunity.
It added a lightness that Isolde had not realised was missing before.
Suddenly, casual conversations at the campfire were more common than not.
Even Felix seemed to enjoy Leif’s company, though he still mostly kept to himself.
One evening, they set up their camp in a small clearing.
Luella had left to scout their perimeter, and Garren retreated to his tent to get some sleep before his watch.
Isolde sat by the fire with Leif, engaged in an animated discussion about tracking different forest animals, when she caught sight of Felix approaching the firelight.
She paused mid-sentence, blinking at him in surprise as he dropped onto the grass beside them.
“Felix!” Leif said happily. “Is there still anything to do for the horses or tents?”
Felix shook his head. “Everything is done.”
Isolde eyed him. He looked almost relaxed. Maybe being on the move again was agreeing with him?
“We should play a game!” Leif declared. “A game of questions! Whoever doesn’t want to answer the question has to take a drink!” He produced a bottle of Crovan mead with a wide grin.
“I’m in,” Felix said.
“You’re in?” she echoed, incredulous.
“Of course,” Felix said. “The mead is good.”
“Excellent!” Leif exclaimed. “What about the fair lady?”
“I… yes, alright,” she said, her eyes leaping from Leif to the bottle then to Felix.
“Perfect!” Leif jumped up, rummaging through their gear until he unearthed three mismatched cups. He poured generously, handed them out, and plopped back down by the fire, grinning. “Let’s start easy. What’s your favourite colour? Mine’s green!”
“Blue,” Felix said casually as he took a sip of his mead.
“You can’t answer the question and drink!” Leif protested.
“Why not?” Felix grinned. “It’s better that way.”
“I think purple,” Isolde said, “but sometimes red, or brown… I don’t really know. Does that mean I have to drink?”
“Only if you don’t want to answer,” said Leif. “Your turn next!”
“Oh! Umm…” She thought for a moment, glancing at Felix. He was eyeing her over the rim of his cup. “What is your favourite childhood memory? Mine is sn eaking books and cookies into the garden and hiding from my governess in the greenhouse.” She smiled as she recalled it.
“Good question,” Leif said. “Let me think… My father teaching me how to hunt! What is a governess?”
Isolde launched into a lecture on the child-rearing practices of the nobility. She only half noticed Felix did not answer, but quietly took a long drink instead.
“Your turn, Felix,” Leif said when she finished talking.
Felix grinned at Leif. “What is the most reckless thing you have ever done?”
“Hunting mercenaries with you, obviously,” Leif deadpanned.
“Right, makes sense,” he replied. “Mine is… let me think. Probably that time I agreed to a drunken, blindfolded sword fight.”
Leif stared. “Drunken… blindfolded? Why?”
Felix shrugged. “It seemed funny. I did say drunken , right?”
Leif chortled. Isolde shook her head. “I’m drinking to this one,” she said primly, and took a sip. There were certain things a lady did not share.
Felix and Leif exchanged a glance.
“Lady Isolde has done something reckless?” Leif said, wide-eyed.
Isolde said nothing, but waved her cup at him for a refill. Leif obliged, pouring another one for Felix as well.
As the pleasant buzz of the mead settled into her skull, Isolde decided to up the stakes a little. “Tell us about your first kiss, or drink,” she said boldly, and giggled.
Leif actually blushed. “I um… haven’t had the pleasure.”
“You’re joking,” Felix said incredulously, laughing. “Come here, Leif, let me fix that for you.”
“Afraid you’re not my type,” Leif replied with a bashful grin.
Still laughing, Felix refrained from answering but took a long draught of his mead instead before looking at Isolde with raised eyebrows. “Well? Are you going to answer your own question, or drink up?”
“Of course,” she said, giggling again. “I was sixteen, and we were hiding behind bookshelves in the library. It was very romantic.”
Leif smiled. “Aww. What’s a library? ”
Felix merely looked at her as she attempted to explain, with a slight tilt to his head, his eyes boring into hers in the most distracting way possible.
When it was Leif’s turn, he pondered his question for a long time, looking back and forth between her and Felix with an expression she would have called ‘calculating’ on anyone else’s face. “Oh, I have a good one,” he said finally. “What is the worst argument you’ve ever been in?”
Isolde blinked. The playful mood evaporated, and the temperature dropped several degrees. From the corner of her eye, she saw Felix tense up.
“Mine was with my sister last year,” Leif continued happily, seemingly oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. “It was after our father died and, well, I suppose we were both not doing too great. All good now, though!” He turned to face Felix. “What about you?”
Felix glared at him for a moment, then took a long, deliberate drink. Leif shifted his gaze to Isolde with a shrug, eyes wide and sparkling.
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and blushed. Looking stubbornly into the fire, she brought her cup to her lips and took a sip. Nobody spoke for what may well have been an eternity.
“Right,” Leif said, slapping his hands on his knees and standing up. He looked from Felix to Isolde and grinned. “I’m going to get some sleep. Night!” Before either of them could respond, he turned away and disappeared into the darkness beyond the firelight.
“That felt deliberate…” Felix muttered, frowning.
The silence that followed hung heavily in the air.
Isolde broke it with a small cough, clearing her throat.
Her cheeks were flushed from the mead, and the world had gone somewhat blurry around the edges.
She hesitated, bit her lip, and snuck a peek at Felix.
He was staring into the fire, his thoughts probably a million miles away, like he wanted to be left alone.
But no, Leif had presented her with this opportunity on a silver platter, and she wouldn’t let it go to waste. Even if she was a little drunk.
“We should talk, Felix.”
“We should?” He turned to face her. His expression was as unreadable as always .
“Yes! We… we fought; we said terrible things. I used magic on you! And we never talked about it after.”
“Oh, that. It’s fine.” He shrugged and threw a small stick into the fire.
That was so like him. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not fine! I feel awful about it. I should never have done that.”
“Well, it was an accident; you couldn’t help it.”
Of course, he would think that. Everyone probably thought that, she realised. She looked down, fiddling with her sleeves.
“I could help it,” she said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It was… it wasn’t entirely an accident.” She avoided his eyes, lacing her fingers together.
Felix said nothing, and she braced herself for something, anything. He should be mad at her; he certainly had the right to be.
Then she heard him chuckle, and her head snapped up. At her expression, the chuckle turned into a full on laugh, until he was doubled over, holding his sides, trying in vain to compose himself as she glared daggers at him.
“Hells, Isa,” he hiccupped, “stop doing such a good impression of Luella. You’re scaring me.”
“It’s not funny!” she scolded him. “Imagine if the roles were reversed. Do you think I’d laugh if you had punched me because you were mad?”
Felix startled, his humour vanishing as he looked at her directly. “I would never do that.”
“I know!” she said, her voice a little too loud. “Which is why it is terrible that I did. And I am really sorry!”
“Alright, I get it. I was not holding it against you, just so you know. I uh, forgive you?”
She let out a long sigh and nodded.
“That is amazing, though,” he said.
She eyed him curiously, tilting her head to the side, swaying slightly.
“You were in control,” he continued, his eyes glowing in the firelight, “even while you were angry. That’s impressive.”
His smile was warm and beautiful, and she thought she might dissolve in a puddle at the sight of it. It felt like she had not seen him smile in weeks .
“You really think that?” she squeaked.
“Yeah, I do. Although I have to say it’s a bit odd to know you can apparently kick my ass without even trying,” he said with a wide grin.
Isolde huffed, but could not hide a smile. She almost felt a little taller, a little stronger.
Felix leaned back on his hands, his eyes returning to the fire.