"I seriously missed all that!?" Amos blurted, his voice rising in both disbelief and bitter frustration.
Ulrich set down the tankard he'd just drained and chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. "Yeah, you did," he said, giving the bounty hunter a hearty clap on the back. "But hey, no big deal. You only missed the best match of the tournament so far, is all."
The pat did absolutely nothing to soothe Amos—if anything, it made him sulk harder. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face before slamming back another swig of his drink. "Ugh… why'd I have to be knocked out so long?"
"Is this place just going to be where we all come back after every day in the tournament?" Callum asked, looking around the Raging Eagle inn.
"Why not?" Ulrich shrugged, already halfway through pouring himself another beer. "It's a nice place." He tapped the rim of his tankard with a smirk. "And the drinks are free."
At another table, a tankard was raised.
"No hard feelings, right?" Calvinel asked, lifting his drink toward Hittag. The two looked good as new—whatever bruises or breaks they'd suffered scrubbed away after soaking at the Healing Springs for an hour or so.
"Someday I will challenge you to a duel and win," Hittag replied as he raised the massive tankard the innkeeper had crafted just last night, just in case the towering warrior returned. "But no. No hard feelings."
Calvinel chuckled. "Then I guess I'll be waiting for you," he said, knocking their mugs together with a heavy clack.
"You two made up pretty quickly, didn't you?" Gurion asked from his seat beside them.
Calvinel and Hittag glanced his way mid-drink. When their mugs lowered again, Hittag spoke first.
"There was never any animosity to begin with. We fought in a tournament meant for entertainment, and we delivered."
"Yeah, what he said," Calvinel added. "Besides, I just can't stay mad at someone. Not in my blood." He grinned.
At another table, Zee leaned forward, her fingers laced together, voice edged with worry. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" she asked, eyes on her twin. "You're fighting an assassin. It can get really dangerous, you know?"
Mae turned with a mischievous glint and reached out, giving her sister's nose a playful boop. "Don't worry, little sister," she said, sing-song sweet. "I'll be fine~. And besides~…"
She turned her gaze toward Lexy, who sat across from them watching the exchange with a cheerful smile.
"Both of us are looking forward to it, aren't we, little changeling~?" Mae cooed.
Lexy giggled. "Little? I'll have you know I can grow very big if I wanted! I just like being petite and cute, is all!"
"You two aren't taking this very seriously," Zee said with a pout.
Mae leaned in and poked the puffed-up air right out of her cheeks. "And I'll take it even less seriously when you pout like that~."
At another table, Xain slid onto the bench beside Edluar. "So, how ready do you think you are for tomorrow's tournament?" he asked as casually as he could.
The half-elf flinched at the sudden proximity, his shoulders tensing. "I—I'm as ready as I can be, I guess," he answered without meeting Xain's eyes, fingers anxiously twisting strands of his hip-length silver hair.
The air between them grew heavier. Honestly, it always felt like this—awkward, strained—especially with the other elves. Xain could feel it like a weight pressing on the space between them.
"Listen... about last night—" he started, but Edluar stiffened before the sentence could even land.
Xain grimaced. "I didn't mean it—no, I did mean it, but I didn't mean... ugh. You know what? Why did I even try?" The words came out in a stammered mess. He let his head drop, his face flushing deep red.
"It's fine. Don't worry," Edluar said softly, finally turning to look at him. "I just... don't hear things like that often, you know?" His gaze fell, and with it, the strength in his voice. "People don't really like me much. Or they don't like what I am. What I represent."
Xain looked up, and the redness drained from his face in an instant.
"Screw those people," he said.
Edluar blinked and turned toward him, startled.
"Don't dwell on anything they say. Not even for a second. You're pretty—that's just an objective fact—and I'll keep saying it until you believe it."
Edluar's face turned red as he opened his mouth to protest, but Xain held up a hand, cutting him off.
"Listen—I'm not just saying this to fluster you, or flirt, or whatever someone might think. I'm saying it because you deserve to hear it. You deserve to be treated with the same respect everyone else gets, even if people fear what you are. You're still a person. Got it? And I don't want to hear any more self-deprecating crap from you."
He let out a breath and leaned back, his tone softening. "Sorry. That probably freaked you out."
But Edluar let out a laugh—soft, clear, and almost musical. Like the ring of a silver bell[1].
"No. It's fine. It's... great, actually. Thank you, Xain. You're very mature for your age."
Xain rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling something unintelligible as his face turned pink again.
Nori, watching from nearby, felt his heart lift. Xain hadn't changed at all. That simple truth filled him with warmth. And maybe—just maybe—Xain could still accept him, despite everything. But even if he could… Nori wasn't sure he'd ever allow himself that. He couldn't bear the thought of tainting the memories Xain had of him.
"So, Nerissa, what do you think?" Clara asked brightly, pulling his focus back to the coin trick she'd just finished.
"Did you like it?" she added with a hopeful grin.
Nori gave her a thumbs-up—definitely pretending he'd been watching.
"Yay! I'm glad you liked it!" Clara clapped her hands excitedly.
Elsa, seated beside her, sighed. She could tell Nori hadn't seen a thing, but chose to say nothing.
And then—the doors of the inn slowly swung open.
The person standing in the threshold drew every pair of eyes in the room.
[1] Now where have I read that before?
-The Editor.