Tales of Fire and Ruin

Tame

The creaky stairway and the rot on the wooden ceiling beams inspired little confidence for the state of our room. I didn't worry the walls would collapse on us—I had seen far worse in the Montbow stables—but our stay likely wasn't worth the expensive gemstone I'd paid for it.

After turning the key in the rusty lock, however, I was pleasantly surprised by a warm, cosy bedroom with a set of candles flickering on the nightstand, an armchair in the corner, and one bed. Which wasn't that large at all, like Sully had implied.

"At least the sheets aren't rotting like the beams," I muttered.

While I lingered in the doorway, Oleander slipped past me and plopped down on the sheets without hesitation. Leaning down, he carefully hid the queen's staff underneath the bed. Then he pulled his shirt off. He unceremoniously discarded it on the floor as I hastily stepped into the room and closed the door behind me.

Oleander inspected the wound on his shoulder with a grimace.

I took a hesitant step towards the bed. "It's a little late now, but we still best get that wrapped up," I said.

Oleander hummed in agreement. He pulled his hat off his head and lowered himself to a flat position on the bed with gritted teeth. Flying for days had clearly taken a toll on him, and he shouldn't have with his shoulder in this state. I didn't know exactly how shapeshifting worked, but it seemed to me like the flapping of wings would stop an arrow wound from healing properly.

I took another step towards the bed, taking in Oleander's tired expression. His face looked especially gaunt in the candlelight. "You need to rest," I said. "And you would better be able to do that alone in a room with no disturbances from someone beside you."

"You do snore terribly," Oleander teased me. "But no. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Because you need me alive to touch the gem and free your people."

"Indeed," Oleander replied lightly. "And to clean my wound and to feed me."

I crossed my arms. "You can do those things yourself."

"But I'm weakened from the long journey, and I'm injured."

"Sure, and you wouldn't even let me help you walk here. You can't go back to your helpless elf with memory loss act on a whim."

Oleander arched a brow. "You're right that I don't need help. That doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy being taken care of and perhaps massaged by an attractive lordling inside a secluded room with one bed."

The look Oleander gave me would have sent shivers down my spine and straight to my groin before Wildewall's dungeons. Oleander had taken his cruel words back, but him teasing me was rubbing salt into my still-healing wound. I was attracted to him and I couldn't help that. It was clear Oleander knew he still had a power over me and he made a mockery of it.

"I do not enjoy you blowing hot and cold, Oleander," I said.

Oleander studied my face carefully before opening his mouth. "Only hot, then?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You still think me a complete fool, don't you? A simpleton who forgets what happened yesterday with a wink and the promise of being allowed to touch you."

With a groan, Oleander propped himself up on his elbows. "No," he replied. "I see you as an equally vexing as charmingly naïve human who took in a human-hunter who only wished to use him. And you made him change his mind about seeking out the wither-touched, killing all the knights, and burning Wildewall to the ground, because there are good humans, after all."