Chapter 38 – Elias #2
I let out a quiet breath. “You loved him.”
She went still. Silent long enough, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, soft as a whisper: “No, Elias.”
I looked at her, confused. Her gaze shifted to mine. “I still do. I never stopped.”
For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. She loved him still. Fiercely. As if the years since his death hadn’t passed at all. I’d thought I was prodding at old scars, maybe raw ones, but scars all the same. Instead, I’d found a wound that never closed.
She looked away, eyes on the hearth. Then stood, set her half-empty glass on the side table, and left the room. Footsteps upstairs. Drawers opening, wood shifting. A few moments later she came back down with a polished wooden box in her hands. She held it out without a word.
I set my glass aside and took it. She reclaimed her seat, lifted her whisky, and drank, watching the hearth as if I wasn’t there. I eased the box open.
Inside was a thick stack of parchment. At first glance, they looked like ordinary palace records, patrol reports, code work, and mission briefs. But then I saw the signature. The handwriting.
Eris.
“I asked Dain to take everything from the palace admins and bring it back,” she said without looking at me.
Every document Eris ever touched, every scrap of official record, kept in her home, in her bedroom.
I sifted through the stack. Reports written in neat, precise hand.
Factual, to the point. Dozens, maybe hundreds, all carefully preserved.
At the very bottom lay his official palace portrait—broad-shouldered, jaw set, that unwavering gaze—and beneath it, his full record.
Initial assessments, listed abilities, combat strengths, service history.
His combat abilities were staggering. Water manipulation at levels few mages ever touched. Swordsmanship rated exemplary. Field record clean, disciplined. He should have been untouchable. And yet he died.
I set one of the reports back on the stack, mouth quirking faintly. “His handwriting’s irritatingly neat. Almost as bad as Dain’s.”
That earned me a glance. The corner of her mouth twitched, too brief to be called a smile, but close to it. “Kael must have hated him for it,” I pressed, lighter. “Nothing worse than trying to forge a signature when the letters look like they belong in a scribe’s archive.”
Azaria gave a faint huff, shaking her head. Then her voice softened. “Kael was too busy chasing a girl back at the Sapphire Inn. Asked Eris to come with him a few times too.”
I raised a brow, leaning back with my glass. “And?”
She lifted her whisky, eyes still on the hearth. “Eris never went. Said he already had better things waiting for him.”
There was no mistaking the tug at the corner of her mouth. Not quite a smile, but the memory hadn’t only been painful.
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Oh? And what sort of things, pray tell? A certain blond-haired lady captain…?”
She didn’t answer. But there it was, the faintest flush across her cheeks. I nearly grinned. Struck silver.
She turned her head toward me, eyes narrowed, but the words lacked their usual bite. “You’re pushing your luck tonight, Thornvale.”
I raised my glass in a mock toast. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Azaria smirked, and her posture softened.
She glanced at the stack of parchment beside me and said quietly, “It was hard not to, you know. Chase after him, keep close to that steadiness. There was something about his magic that made me feel secure when he was near. All the fight went out of me whenever he was close, and I just stopped resisting it. I embraced it instead. And Eris, he was patient, of course. He let me set the pace. Never pushed.”
Then she looked at me, a spark of mischief in her eyes I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen there. “I may have teased him once or twice. To see if he’d act on his feelings.”
What I wouldn’t give to have seen that, Azaria making Eris squirm. Flustering a man nearly three times her size.
“Oh, you mean shamelessly flirt with the poor man and watch him writhe in his seat?” I teased.
She feigned innocence, hand pressed dramatically to her chest. “Excuse me? I would never.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Well,” she said, eyes glinting, “apart from the times I slipped into one of Dain’s shirts, the ones that hung a little too low at the collarbone, and left it unbuttoned at the top, where it was obvious I had nothing underneath.
Then I’d lean forward just enough while Eris and Dain sat writing reports…
” She trailed off with deliberate innocence.
I barked a laugh; the sound echoed in the stillness. “Very smooth, Captain.” I leaned back, grinning. “So you’re telling me you flustered Eris whenever you could, but he never did the same to you?”
She sipped her whisky, cool as stone. “Nope.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”
Her smirk deepened, but she didn’t rise to the bait right away. Just sat there, posture loose, eyes catching the light. For once, she didn’t look like the universe was pressing down on her shoulders.
“Well…” she began slowly, a rare flicker of uncertainty in her tone. “I mean… when Rylen opened the door and invited him inside, I had to sit down.”
I snorted, earning a look.
“His scent hit me like a stone wall, which was bad enough already. But combined with him?” She turned those blue eyes back on me, indignant. “I mean, you’ve met him yourself; look at him. How was I supposed to keep my legs from wobbling?”
I laughed outright. I wasn’t into men, but even I could admit it. Eris had been a handsome bastard. “Did you just confess a weakness, Captain? Did he bring you to your knees?” I asked, laying the double meaning on thick.
And she blushed.
“No! Stars, Elias, I just… he just—“ she stammered, suddenly sounding like an awkward girl fumbling through talk of her first crush.
This was it. The real Azaria slipping through for the first time.
“Ugh, fine.” She threw her hands up. “I may have gone weak at the knees when he was close.”
“Uh-huh,” I teased, dragging the syllables.
She glared, but there was no heat in it. “He wasn’t innocent either, you know.”
“Yeah,” I grinned, “seems all he had to do was exist, and you were done for.”
“No!” she protested, flustered again. Gods, I was talking to a completely different person. “Well… yes,” she admitted, cheeks still faintly pink. “We flirted for weeks. Dain had enough of us circling each other. One day we finally did it. Admitted our feelings.”
“And?” I leaned forward. “What was it like?”
“Well, we had sex on the common room sofa. A couple of times.” Her voice was casual, unbothered. “I must say, Eris set the bar very, very high in that regard.”
I nearly dropped my glass, not at the sex itself, but at how casually she said it. Like she was reciting drills.
And that’s when it hit me. This was the real Azaria. The woman Kael, Reyna, and Dain spoke of. The young captain, fire in her veins, fearless and unbothered, who blushed at the faintest tease but wouldn’t hesitate to toss her own back. The Azaria who laughed, who lived.
She smirked at my expression and added, “After that, we used every possible occasion to be with each other. I’ve never been one to enjoy closeness or pleasures of the body. But with Eris? We could have had sex every day, and it still wouldn’t have been enough.”
I sat there, stunned. Because this wasn’t just love steeped in care and trust. It was passion, fierce and consuming. A truth I never would have guessed from the woman who lived behind walls of steel. And it made me glad to know she’d once had that. Even knowing how far from it she was now.
“Dain must have been relieved after you finally got together,” I tried.
Azaria let out a low laugh, the sound startling in its warmth. “The bastard had the audacity to tell me to keep off the sofas next time because he didn’t fancy sitting somewhere compromised.”
I almost choked, not on the whisky, but on the image of Dain saying that with his usual stone face.
“Did Dain give Eris a pep talk?” I asked, half-teasing.
“Oh, yeah.” Her mouth quirked. “Next morning Dain cornered Eris, and they had a little one-to-one. I never asked what was said. I didn’t want to get between their manly egos.
” Her tone was dry but warm. She took another sip, gaze sliding back to me.
“And yes, before you ask, we still kept training together every day. Actually training.” She gave me a pointed look.
“That was the time I was still gathering artifacts. Eris helped me with attunements, and we practised real combat with them too. After a while, he started getting used to them. Even the suppression ring didn’t work on him anymore. ”
I frowned. “That’s unusual. Did he build a resistance?”
“Yes. Most likely. It happened with every single new piece I trained with.”
That stopped me. Artifacts might be artificial magic, but they always produced a reaction. No one was completely unaffected. Another gift that died with him.
The look on her face silenced any further questions.
She looked fragile for a moment. Her glass sat untouched on her knee.
She stared at it, knuckles white, bracing herself.
Then she stood, carried the box of documents back upstairs, and returned with another in her hands.
Smaller. She handed it to me without a word and sat back.
I opened the box. There were two parchments inside, both gleaming faintly, magically sealed.
I picked up the first, a single page in old Thalor script.
The letters shimmered with faint magic. I couldn’t read the words, but the formatting was unmistakable: the careful symmetry of an official document. A ceremony, perhaps. Something sacred.
I set it back and reached for the second. The same document, translated into the common tongue. I began to read and felt the color drain from my face.
An official document. Written, signed, and blessed by a Thalor priestess. A binding declaration of souls, of love, of permanence.