Chapter 43 – Love in Thoughts

The next morning, they sat around the cooking fire, and Grimbart handed out porridge to them. Shaelith waited until everyone had a bowl and Honor had finished commenting on the sunrise. Then she recounted what Gaudbert had told her while they were dancing.

“And I guess I’m the cunning witch in the story,” she concluded. “Right after that, he had to, um, make a quick exit.”

Mirrsoss’s antennae twitched at the mere memory. “So… do you think the nice, chubby knight was telling the truth?”

“All in all, yes, I think so.”

“That could be dangerous,” Thaelon said alarmed. “Humans are often all too willing to believe all sorts of lies about the Vyn peoples. So why not that you’ve cast a spell on Honor?”

“CAST A SPELL?” The banner quivered on its pole with indignation. “ON ME? Are you implying that I didn’t make my own choice? I can smell cowards, and if that perfumed washcloth of a prince thinks-“

“We know that,” said Grimbart.

“-then let him just come and-“

“Calm down!” Grimbart growled at the banner. “No one here believes that Shaelith put a spell on you.”

Honor fell silent. Then, when he spoke again, there was no fanfare in his voice. “It cost me something to make that choice. It was difficult. And now he wants to devalue that.”

Shaelith reached over and carefully straightened some of his tassels.

I really hope that’s an appropriate gesture of affection for banners.

“You know what strikes me?” Grimbart looked at Shaelith with a furrowed brow. “You went on and on about how pointless this tournament is, that it’s a waste of our time, and that Honor will decide whatever he wants in the end anyway. And now the Story Engine itself is giving you a reason to take it seriously. Well done, I must say.”

“Wait a minute,” Shaelith let go of Honor’s tassels. “Weren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t assume the Story Engine is behind everything that happens, or else we’d become paranoid?”

“Yeah, I did say that.”

“Then why are you the one starting to get paranoid now?”

“I’m not starting anything,” Grimbart said impassively. “I still think it’s nonsense to assume the Story Engine is behind every loud fart. But it obviously has some kind of influence, which is why I think it’s foolish to provoke it like that.”

“That’s a pretty convenient line of reasoning, impossible to refute.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.” He kept eating.

Aaargh. But I’m not even sure he’s wrong.

“Did your admirer also tell you what’s going on with Prince Frambert?” Thaelon asked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

“No, he didn’t want to spill the beans. He just said I already knew why. Well, obviously not.”

“It’s like I’m saying,” Benderast remarked with his mouth full. “The Story Engine just assigned him an antagonist role. Maybe he’s even some kind of mini boss.”

“There has to be a reason.”

Benderast set down his bowl and seemed to be glancing at his UI. “Guys, let’s not argue about it. My quest is to win the Trial of Reclamation. The reward is that I get to keep Honor and a whole lot of XP. Politics aside, I’d like to complete the quest for the XP alone, and the faster we win here, the faster we’ll be in Cobalt City to find Maenwallon. That’s the main storyline. I don’t want us to get into a fight over this side-quest bullshit.”

“This ‘bullshit,’ as you call it,” Shaelith replied, “could cost us our heads.”

“Then let’s just win quickly and get out of here.” He grinned at her broadly, with brazen confidence.

She sighed.

So they stuck to the plan. Grimbart continued to drill the Eight Temperings of the Soul into him, Thaelon tried to discreetly shadow Gwilet’s seconds to find out what they were up to, and Mirrsoss kept her eyes, ears… and antennae open to gauge the mood of the people.

~

By evening, Benderast could recite and explain the Eight Temperings forward and backward. Grimbart had told Benderast that he wouldn’t be satisfied until Benderast could recite them even in his sleep.

None of them thought it far-fetched that the dwarf might actually wake him up in the middle of the night to quiz him.

As twilight slowly settled over Bomfrey, Mirrsoss approached Shaelith, her wings wrapped tightly around herself. “I’m sorry, Shaelith, but I’ll need the tent to myself tonight.”

“Is it Egg Night again?” Shaelith asked, trying her best to sound as unbothered as possible. It wasn’t Mirrsoss’s fault after all.

The Umilari nodded, visibly relieved.

Well, I’m learning, too.

“Do you need anything? Should I get you some more water?”

“No thanks, I just need the tent and some time.” Mirrsoss’s antennae twitched cheerfully. “And tomorrow you’ll get a piece of the omelet.”

So Shaelith simply rolled up her bedding and went to Benderast’s tent.

Honor rustled at the pole. “AT LAST, THE FAIR WIFE OF MY BEARER RETURNS HOME TO THE BOSOM OF HER BELOVED-“

“If you keep shouting like that,” said Shaelith, “I’ll dunk you in the moat.”

“How delightfully feisty she is,” Honor praised. But quietly.

She pushed aside the tarp covering Benderast’s tent. “Move over. Mirrsoss is laying an egg.”

He made no effort to hide his excitement. “Awesome! That means omelets tomorrow.”

“You know what, I think I agree with your priorities.”

She set up her bedding at a safe distance and then lay awake for a while, listening to Benderast tossing and turning beside her.

“What did Obelaine want from you yesterday?” she asked into the darkness. “After the dance. You said you were going to tell us about that.”

The rustling stopped.

“Oh. Yeah. So, the poem,” he said finally. “The one I recited is apparently her absolute favorite poem.” He chuckled sheepishly. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that? I just picked the shortest long poem I could find.”

The shortest long poem.

She hadn’t known that either. An entire volume full of poems, and he just had to pick out her favorite one.

Coincidence. Or the Story Engine.

She pushed the unwanted thought aside.

“And then? That wasn’t all, was it?”

“No. Well… and then she said…” He cleared his throat. “That for her, despite everything, despite the circumstances, I mean, it was exactly the same as in the poem.” Pause. “With me, I mean. You know, love at first sight.”

Oh no.

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing! I… I didn’t know what to say! And then this Frambert guy spotted us and looked at me as if he were taking my measure for a coffin. When he came over, I was…” His voice trailed off. “… I guess I was kind of relieved, because Obelaine ran off and I got out of the conversation. Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “Why didn’t you know what to say to her?”

Silence.

“Damn it. Don’t tell me you have feelings for her?”

The silence stretched even longer.

“She’s fallen in love with you,” Shaelith said. “And obviously she fell hard. If you don’t feel anything for her and I pray to every god and spirit in this world that you don’t, then you should gently turn her down. Soon. With no room for misunderstandings.”

He still didn’t answer.

“Please. Please don’t tell me you want to marry the Princess of Tulvia. She’s engaged to Prince Frambert, and that would play right into Gwilet’s web of lies. The puppet of the violet elf witches is trying to marry his way into the royal family.”

“I don’t want to… get married!” It burst out a little too loudly, but he immediately lowered his voice. “I just don’t know… the UI says she’s a romance option, and I don’t know what to do about it because… oh, never mind.”

Oh no, I have a hunch.

Shaelith chose her next words carefully. “Is this… maybe, actually about me then?”

He took a breath and hesitated briefly. “Okay. Okay. So, there usually are these routes. There’s something called a ‘One Love Route’ and then there’s something called a ‘Harem Route,’ and they’re mutually exclusive. You have to choose one of those routes, because…” 

And then he awkwardly explained to her at great length the difference between the One Love Route and the Harem Route, and that the Harem Route was harder to follow but offered more “content” overall, though some romance options were incompatible with the Harem Route, making it a pretty important decision which route to commit to.

Oh boy, I should get XP in [Patience] for this or something.

But her irritation was kept in check, because… he was talking to her and trying to explain himself, and this time she didn’t feel like he was hiding behind this gaming logic, but rather that he was using it as a way to talk about his feelings. As awkward as it might have been, it was a small step forward.

All right. Then we’ll just translate it. It’s not my first rodeo.

“Okay,” she said calmly. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say. Please forget about the routes for a moment. I have an honest question for you, and I promise you, it’s not a trap: Do you even like me? Have you ever seriously thought about it? Set aside the fact that you find me hot and what your UI tells you. What does your heart say?”  

“Of course I like you!” Too fast.

Shaelith shook her head. “You have to actually think about it.”

He took his time. “You’re smart and brave. You help me, even though I think I really screwed up with this concubine thing. And you often explain things to me and try not to make me feel like a total idiot in the process. Even if it doesn’t always work.”

Huh.

“Okay. But do you love me? I don’t think so,” Shaelith finally said, as kindly as she could. “And that’s totally fine. I have a mirror and I have eyes in my head, so I know you think I’m beautiful. You desperately want to sleep with me. That’s not a crime, and with your poker face, it’s certainly no secret.”

He cleared his throat and was about to interrupt her, but she placed her hand on his arm in the dark.

“It’s not going to happen,” she continued. “But that’s not the end of the world. I’m not gonna lie, sex is one of the really great things in life, but at the same time, it’s not that big a deal.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he said, sounding less defiant than sad. “You have loads of sex! You can have whoever you want, and people are practically lining up for you. And I-” He trailed off, having to force himself to continue. “I’m a virgin. Still!” He turned on his back and stared at the tent ceiling. “I finally have a new body, a… a good one! I even have a jawline now! And what’s changed because of that? Nothing.”

Shaelith opened her mouth-

Actually, it’s not like I’m getting that much action myself right now.

She pushed the thought aside.

“Listen to me,” she said. “Just find someone you really like and… Well, okay. I mean, not me, and I’m begging you, please not the princess. Find someone who you like and can get it over with uncomplicatedly, so you can relax a little and stop confusing ‘she’s hot’ with ‘I’m in love.’ One is just a craving, and the other can be a fuck ton of work and trouble, and you don’t want to get yourself into that just to satisfy a little hunger. Trust me.”

I know exactly how you feel.

And she really did know it. Jacob Williams had died a virgin, and Shaelith Vyrnara had been one for a long time. She knew exactly how intense and overwhelming that desire could feel for a young man. It was one of her few genuine regrets that she would never know what sex felt like as a man, even though she had been in the perhaps unique position where this potentially needn’t have been a curiosity.

And I can’t tell him a word of it.

There was silence again, but it seemed to her like a productive silence. He appeared to be mulling over what she had told him.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly at some point. “I think I need… to think a bit more.”

She resisted the temptation to keep pushing. “Yeah, do that.”

“Sleep well, Shaelith,” he said.

“Good night, Benderast.”

She fell asleep surprisingly quickly, and in her sleep she sensed the presence again, the pull again. And this time she couldn’t help but perceive it as impatient, and it seemed to be growing more insistent. Come. Come on.