Binding Fate: Betrothed to the Otherworldly Duke

Chapter 16: Trusting a Stranger

"Mara..."

Jean's voice broke through the silence, brittle and weak, tugging at my heart. I rushed to his side, my movements swift, driven by an anxious urgency I couldn't control. His eyes, barely open, were clouded with confusion and pain, reflecting the struggle he'd endured, teetering on the brink of darkness.

"Where are we?" he asked, his words rough and strained, scraping against the quiet of the room like flint.

Relief washed over me like warm rain, easing the chill of dread that had clung to me since that chaotic confrontation. I gently took his hand, making sure my touch conveyed the safety and care he desperately needed.

"Safe," I whispered, my voice fragile, betraying the doubts that still lingered. "Lord Aster found us. We're sheltered in a pub now." My fingers traced a soothing path across his forehead, the cool touch of balm on his fevered skin.

Jean's breath deepened, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he drifted back into the depths of slumber. "I'm glad you're okay, Mara," he murmured, the words barely audible, like the last flicker of light before dusk.

As his breathing slowed, a steady anchor in the swirling sea of my thoughts, I sat by his side. The dim lamplight cast long shadows across the room, enveloping me in a cloak of uncertainty.

*

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The soft, insistent knocking tugged me from the murky depths of a troubled sleep. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted with lead, as they slowly lifted to reveal the quaint, somewhat mismatched furnishings of the pub's guest room. The patchwork quilt, its colors faded and edges frayed from years of use, had slipped to pool around my feet during the night. As consciousness seeped back in, memories of the previous day—a chaotic blur of shadows and whispers—crept into my mind like the first cool whispers of dawn mist.

"Enter," I croaked, my voice hoarse with sleep. The door's hinges gave a soft groan as it swung open, admitting a slight figure bathed in the gentle morning light filtering through the corridor. Strands of light brown hair, interwoven with subtle hints of lavender, escaped from the woman's loosely tied braid, softly framing her face—a face too young to carry such a solemn expression, her amber eyes reflecting a depth of experience.

"Good morning, Miss. I'm Elowyn," the woman introduced herself, her voice as soft and musical as a hidden brook. She tiptoed, placing a tray with a simple yet inviting breakfast on the bedside table. "I've attended to your dress from yesterday. Stains all lifted; it's as fresh as a new dawn." Her hands gestured toward the now spotless garment with a flourish of pride.

"Thank you, Elowyn," I said, my voice thick with gratitude that swelled beyond the confines of my sleepy state.

"His Grace requests your company after you've had your breakfast," Elowyn added, her tone respectful yet distant as she lingered in the doorway, already poised to leave. "He'll be waiting downstairs in the pub."

As the door clicked shut behind Elowyn, I swung my legs out of bed, my bare feet touching the cool, rough wooden floor. I shook off the vestiges of my dreams, which clung to me like the lingering night's shadows, and turned my attention to the modest breakfast before me. Bread, cheese, and a slice of apple—simple fare, yet it seemed a feast for my senses starved of normalcy. Beside the tray, my dress lay draped over a chair, the fabric shimmering under the morning light, miraculously restored to its former glory. It was a small, unexpected luxury that tethered me, for a moment, to the quieter, gentler parts of a world that seemed increasingly filled with peril.

A pang of guilt clutched at my heart as I sat to eat—the kind that gnaws with tiny, insistent teeth. My thoughts flickered to Verdantvale, where they would undoubtedly be fearing the worst. I shook my head, casting aside the creeping worry like cobwebs from a forgotten corner.