"You... you stole it?"
Aithur’s voice stuttered on a note of incredulity, his bulging eyes staring at Luther as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.
Standing at his side, Liliana remained rooted. Her face was a mask of unruffled nobility, its calm untouchable—but bugging, wide eyes betrayed its dismay.
Luther cocked his head to one side, rubbing at his ear as if all this was woefully beneath him. Seriously? So much drama?
"Is this really a surprise?" he muttered, half-auditively to himself.
Next, with as much nonchalance as tossing apples to street kids, he shoved the Divine Sword into Liliana’s hands. The golden hilt shone like sunbeams off her pale fingers. Without breaking pace, he turned to Aithur and dropped the radiant dragon plant into his palm.
Aithur flicked his wrist before accepting it, and the smirk on his face quickly turned into something Luther had never seen: a genuine smile. His eyes lit up gleaming with unrestrained joy.
"Wow." Luther breathed out under his breath, blinking in disbelief. Never thought the lunatic could smile.
Well, he muttered aloud, clapping his hands together, "as a guide—and having observed at first hand how much you both craved these glinting toys—I thought that I would be generous. Even while fleeing for my life, I thought, Why not just pocket them for my dear little friends?"
Aithur’s fingers wrapped tightly around the plant. "Happy... great," he said, still grinning.
Now, Luther continued, attempting a smile, "as much as I enjoy being here soaking up your faces of wonder, time for goodbyes." He placed his hands on their shoulders and pushed them gently toward their carriage. "Goodbye, and Godspeed!
He swept his arm wide, then turned on his heel. As soon as the carriage was out of their sight, Luther dashed around the next corner, sending dust swirling behind him.
Behind him, Liliana’s knuckles whitened around the sword’s hilt. She belted it to her hip with deliberate care, the weight of it grounding her. But when she tried to do as Luther had done and take a step back, her legs betrayed her. She stopped dead short, staring at the carriage.
Aithur, however, was once more smiling, tucking the dragon plant neatly into his coat as if it were merely a money purse.
"Oh, looks like I’ll be off," he grinned. "Perhaps you can catch up later, Princess."
Liliana’s teeth were clenched.
"Oh?" Aithur moved closer, mischievous eyes aglow. "Did I strike a nerve?"
He grinned as he climbed in, the driver bobbing a low bow before moving to shut the door. But as the wood swung shut, a hand slapped across its edge, holding it open.
Aithur looked sideways, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Need something?"
Liliana stood there, her normally impeccable bearing shattering. Her glassy stare had broken, showing ears reddened, smoldering with something between embarrassment and frustration. Her hold on the carriage door quivered—no, shook with such vigor the wood started to splinter under her grasp.
She cursed softly under her breath, so low Aithur nearly didn’t hear it.
"What was that? Speak up, oh mighty one." His smirk widened. "Or shall I assume you’ve fallen mute in awe of my company?"
Liliana’s voice rose, still restrained but sharp as a blade’s edge. "I asked if I could tag along."
Aithur eased back in his seat, his chin whiskers rubbing against his fingertips as though weighing a difficult choice. "Join me? To the capital? Surely great, powerful Liliana doesn’t need help. Don’t you have—what was it—the ’horses of fire’ at your beck and call?"
The wood in Liliana’s hand cracked sharply. Her lips curled into a snarl.
Her sword leapt from its sheath in a flash of light, the tip racing straight for Aithur’s smiling face.
He did not flinch. His arm flashed up and wrapped around the blade edge, halting it mere whiskers from biting the bridge of his nose. His smirk did not alter. "Now, now... you would not care to kill your sole mount before we have even exited the square, would you?
Liliana’s fury burned hotter, but slowly—reluctantly—she withdrew her sword, sliding it back into place. Her pout was sharp, almost childish, like a cat denied its prey. With an indignant huff, she climbed into the carriage and dropped herself onto the seat opposite him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Try anything funny," she growled, "and I’ll make sure your head rolls before the wheels do." The source of thɪs content is N()velFire.net
Aithur chuckled, utterly unbothered. "Duly noted."
The driver, cleverly feigning that he’d overheard nothing, bowed again before closing the carriage door. He mounted to his seat, cracked the reins, and the horses charged ahead. The carriage rolled smoothly out of the square, disappearing down the cobblestone road.
At the dark mouth of an alleyway, a head ventured out.
He slumped against the brick wall, his chest heaving with relief as he watched the carriage disappear into the distance.
Finally. Those lunatics are gone.
No more ridiculous dangers.
No more being dragged into a story that wasn’t his.
No more headaches, swords, or dragon-related heart attacks.
Luther let himself take a deep sigh of pure bliss. He even whispered aloud, "Good riddance."
Then, unable to contain it, he danced a mini jig right there, humming.
But his mini-celebration was halted by a sudden, audible sneeze. "Achoo!" He sniffled, wiping at his nose. "Ugh. Stupid wind cold."
He rubbed his hand dry, muttering under his breath about how Mari would scold him if he caught a chill. A shiver ran through his body, but he shook it off immediately, pushing the idea away.
Bah. Jobin will never know. Not if nobody rats.
His chuckle was stifled in his throat as light went out around him.
He blinked, raising his eyes. The sun continued to blaze above, but the alley had dropped into shadow, dark and oppressive.
A rumbling voice called out his name.
All his hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His spine stiffened, his heart pounding as if it would burst out of his body. Slowly, awkwardly, he turned his head.
A great big man stood over him, dropping the alley into darkness.
"Hi... Jobin," croaked Luther, struggling to put on a nervous grin.
His wave was weak, pitiful, his entire body trembling.
"Fancy seeing you here."