Calvinel was mid-laugh, a grin stretching across his face as Hittag and Gurion chuckled with him. Whatever story had just been shared, it was clearly a good one—Calvinel's natural charisma had the two men hooked, hanging on his every word like a well-loved brother. But then, mid-chuckle, both Hittag and Gurion abruptly stopped and looked past him. Calvinel blinked and followed their gaze over his shoulder.
Standing behind him was Xain, fidgeting slightly, and beside him—Zara, straight-backed and silent, watching the exchange with a detached gaze.
"Hey, Calvinel," Xain began, stepping forward with a hesitant smile. "Princess Zara wanted to talk to you. You're not busy, right?"
Calvinel stood immediately, placing his drink down with a casual grace. He turned toward Zara and bowed low, his hand across his chest like a picture-perfect knight from some storybook. "Good evening, Your Highness. You look lovelier than usual today."
Zara felt the corner of her eye twitch but willed it still. Her expression didn't budge from its composed mask. "Thank you, Sir Knight, for your kind words," she replied, a smooth and utterly fake smile stretching across her lips.
To Xain, it felt like he was watching two actors deliver lines from a well-rehearsed play. Stiff. Artificial. Painfully polite.
"Uh—I'll get some wine for the two of you," he said quickly, awkwardly backing out of the moment. He turned to Hittag and Gurion, gesturing at the bar. "Why don't you guys come with me? You probably know more about wine than I do."
There was a brief pause before the two caught on.
"Yes. I know a lot about wine," Hittag said, nodding a little too quickly as he stood.
"My whole village grows the stuff," Gurion added, already stepping away from the table. "I'll make sure it's good quality."
The three of them slipped off toward the bar, leaving Calvinel and Zara behind. Calvinel took a breath and reached out to pull a chair for her. "Here. Please, sit, Your Highness."
Zara lowered herself into the chair with a small nod, her posture perfect. Calvinel took the seat across from her, folding his hands politely on the table.
"I hope you've been enjoying your time here at the Raging Eagle," he said, his tone smooth and warm. "I know it's not the most prestigious inn in Arcadicia, but I'd argue it's one of the best."
Zara gave a thoughtful hum. "I suppose I am. More so due to the company rather than the inn itself—but it's not bad. Comfortable, I suppose." She cleared her throat, straightening slightly. "Now, about what I wanted to talk to you about, do—"
"Here!" Xain appeared suddenly, holding two glasses and a dusty green bottle. "I brought you the best wine the inn has to offer!" He set the glasses down, filled them quickly, then left the bottle in the center of the table. Without waiting, he retreated again, glancing around as if unsure where to stand before wandering off to another part of the tavern.
On his way, he passed Vilak and gave the necromancer an thankful thumbs-up. Vilak, hunched over a quiet drink in the corner, returned it with a shaky wave.
"Really attentive, isn't he?" Calvinel said, chuckling softly as he watched Xain disappear into the crowd.
Zara lifted the glass, inspecting the rich red liquid with narrowed eyes. "I suppose he is—though I suspect he's only doing this because Clara told him to."
"Doesn't matter why he's doing it," Calvinel said, lifting his own glass. "As long as he is, I say."
Their glasses met with a quiet clink.
They each took a sip.
Both of their eyes went wide as they set the glasses back down, trying—and failing—to mask the sudden burning that gripped their throats. Neither of them coughed, but it was close. Very close.
The wine wasn't bad. Far from it.
It was excellent.
It was also aged one hundred and fifty years.
And it tasted exactly like it.
"W-Wow," Calvinel breathed, blinking hard as the burn hit the back of his throat. His eyes watered instantly, and he turned slightly, pretending to glance at the bottle while subtly wiping the corner of his eye with a knuckle. "That's… some strong stuff."
Zara held her glass delicately, one finger tapping against the stem as she worked to steady her breath. "Y-Yes… not what I was expecting," she admitted, voice soft but controlled.
Calvinel chuckled, trying to clear the haze from his head as he leaned back slightly. Just one sip and he already felt his blood warming, his limbs slightly looser than before. *Goddess, how strong is this? I mean, sure—I had a few drinks earlier, but this is ridiculous.*
Trying to pull himself back on track, he straightened and looked to Zara with practiced poise. "So… what was it you wanted to talk about, Your Highness?"
Zara cleared her throat again, more pointedly this time, and placed her glass back on the table. She folded her hands in her lap, a graceful, almost formal posture overtaking her. "I wished to ask you something rather important, Sir Calvinel," she said evenly. Then, after a heartbeat of silence, she tilted her head. "Do you have a wife?"
The question hung in the air like a dagger.
Calvinel went completely still.
Then his brows twitched, and he turned his gaze toward her. "I do not," he said slowly. "Why do you ask, Your Highness?"
Zara let out a dramatic sigh, just loud enough to be heard but soft enough to seem genuine. "Thank goddess," she said, and as Calvinel watched her, he saw it—that shift. A glint in her eye. The flicker of purpose behind her words.
*He knows,* she thought. *He knows exactly what's coming.*
But she didn't stop.
She leaned forward, placing her arms on the table with intention—her posture elegant, but just suggestive enough to make her presence undeniable. Calvinel had a perfect view of her expression now, one that was calm, composed, and far too direct for anything casual.
"Sir Calvinel," she began, her voice low and resolute.
"I came here to ask for your hand in marriage."