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The chill air of autumn in Hearthglen was softened by the scent of grilled vegetables and smoking meats, the latest shipment of supplies having just arrived, gracing them with an abundance. Jothran stood behind the barracks, awaiting the arrival of a certain merchant. He was not waiting long, when Valia Copperton, ever the punctual one, rounded the corner to join him.
Her hair was long and black, her eyes a deep and pretty brown, and the grin she wore told Jothran that his request had been accomplished. She strode up to him confidently in her brown and black leather travel clothes, a rapier hanging loosely at her side, and handed him a package in the shape of a book.
“It’s wrapped,” Jothran said with a flicker of surprise, turning the parcel, blue with a green bow, over in his hands.
“You did say it was a gift,” Valia said, beaming at her own ingenuity. “I had the merchant wrap it for you. Besides that, it’s not like the journey up here’s an easy one. We protect our goods, we’re pros after all, but extra protection for an extra special client is common sense.” She gave him a bump with her shoulder. “I hope she likes it.”
Jothran smiled at her. “There is no way she wouldn’t.”
“Hey, we’ll be in town a while, taking orders, stocking up, so swing by and tell me how it went? Isel would be glad to catch up too, I’m sure.”
Isel Copperton, a fellow paladin and student of the Libram of Retribution. Valia’s older brother. They were friends, but whenever Jothran asked after his family, something in Isel seemed to withdraw a little.
“I’ll come by,” Jothran said, taking her hand in a firm shake. “Thank you, Valia. Light grant you strength.” The faint glow of the blessing flowed from his hand to hers, and she returned his smile.
“Everyone needs a bit more strength these days,” she said with a wink. Hands clasped behind her back, Valia turned and disappeared around the side of the barracks.
“Phase one complete,” Jothran murmured to himself. “Now, for phase two…”
“You want me to lure Commander Mondragon to a secluded spot, and play the violin for her?” Elsha Veris sat across from him at a table in the tavern with a big mug of moonberry juice, though right now she was swirling it around more than drinking it.
“I know it sounds strange, and the Commander isn’t the most approachable sometimes, but—”
“Okay!”
Jothran blinked. “Just… like that?”
Elsha’s light, musical laugh drew the eyes of a few civilians nearby, though that was never a surprise, when it happened. She was eye-catchingly pretty, and radiated a soft strength, even in these dark times. “You have a plan, I take it,” she said with a smile. “Whoever do you think gave you the first push? Of course I’m going to support you now. And maybe later you can help me with my crush.”
She raised the drink to her lips, watching his reaction.
Jothran raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You have a crush? Do I know them?”
Elsha took a quick drink, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s Alver,” she said, her smile widening into a big grin.
Like an oaf, Jothran froze, his mouth hanging open. Elsha, akin to the glowing light of a lantern, was crushing on the biggest pit of gloom and shadow in their unit. In truth, Jothran had nothing against Alver. The man served as their rear guard, and did his job well and without complaint. He had even taken Ralaea into his care, which seemed a more likely pairing, given the haunted demeanor they both shared.
“Al… Alver, you said?” Jothran filled his open mouth with a drink of his own, plain water, for the night.
“He’s handsome and mysterious, don’t you think?” Elsha asked.
Jothran did not feel qualified to answer such a question. “Sure,” he said, hoping it would go away.
It did not.
For the rest of the evening, Elsha continued to gush about Alver, asking questions he couldn’t possibly know the answers to, and brainstorming plans to win him over. Jothran did his best to keep up, but by the end of the night, he could hardly remember what they had even talked about.
He all but fell into his bed in their makeshift camp in Hearthglen, taking a breath full of pillow as he thought about his own next steps.
“Tomorrow,” he mumbled. “Tomorrow, I’ll…”
It was dark out, and colder than he would have liked. Jothran was dressed in casual clothes, but was beginning to regret that, as his breath dispersed in little clouds of mist. Doubts drifted in and out of his mind as he waited in his chosen location, a space alongside the Hearthglen wall, just shy of where it intersected the hills. The patrol wasn’t scheduled to come by for an hour, giving them some time away from prying eyes, but the chill wind was a problem.
What if Kaela chose not to come? What if Elsha failed to convince her? What if she wanted to leave early, due to the cold?
And then, he saw them. Elsha carrying her violin case, with a big smile on her face, and Kaela walking alongside her, looking perfectly at home in this weather.
“Jothran!” Elsha jogged the last few steps to him, spinning as if to present their Commander. He could almost hear the I did it! in her actions.
Mild surprise appeared on Kaela’s face, the faint lift of her eyebrows. “Are you here to listen as well, Jothran?”
He felt his heart begin to pound as Elsha practically vibrated beside him. Hundreds of times he had practiced for this moment, but somehow her eyes threatened to wash it all away. Still, this was it.
He took a deep breath, and held out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Kaela didn’t move. For a moment, Jothran wondered if she was frozen. If everything was frozen. Usually he could see something through her mask, but it was almost as if she wasn’t even registering his voice.
“Kaela?” he said, with a firm confidence that he certainly didn’t feel. His heart was quivering in his chest, but he took a step towards her, his hand still outstretched.
Hearing her name seemed to break the spell. She reached for his hand.
“You know how to dance?” she asked, her expression closed away behind a block of ice.
“My lineage is not noble, but we were well-off. My family attended many parties.”
As his fingers curled around her hand, he realized for the first time that it was smaller than his. That she was smaller than him. It was hard to tell in training, or in the thick of combat, when she walked around so self-assured and confident that she seemed inches taller, if not feet.
She was also cold. Without really thinking, Jothran drew her hand to his mouth and let out a breath, attempting to warm her hand. Her fingers twitched, as did her lips.
“It isn’t that bad,” Kaela said, but her protest was light, and she didn’t pull away. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I am cold,” he said, placing a hand on her back and drawing her closer. “You must be freezing.” In truth, the cold was having a fierce competition with the warmth inside him at her proximity.
He spared a glance at Elsha, who hadn’t even opened her violin case. The musician was watching them with the face of someone admiring a baby bear.
“Oh, music! Sorry, sorry,” she said, laying the case on the ground and opening it up.
The music began, singing high and cheery notes, with a rhythm easy for beginners to follow. It occurred to him, as he began to lead, that he’d never asked if she knew how to dance. True to his expectations, however, Kaela kept pace with him perfectly, with the ease of someone entrusting her life to him.
“Have you done this before after all?” he asked.
“Only by myself, in the mirror,” she replied, her eyes fixed on him. The force of her gaze was nerve wracking, but exhilarating.
“You danced with your reflection?”
“It’s no different than practicing combat stances.”
The way she said it left no room for argument, but Jothran had known her for a year and change, and watched her closer than anyone else. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.
“It’s not,” she said flatly, noting his smile.
“As you say.” He spun her so she couldn’t protest again.
When she returned to him, her look was assessing. “You have become more familiar with me of late,” she observed.
“In what way?” Jothran kept his smile hidden this time. For this dance, for this song, he was the leader.
“You address me as Kaela.”
He took them gently through a turn. “Kaela is your name.”
Her fingers twitched again, in his hand. “And here I thought you would forever call me Commander Mondragon,” she said. “But did you not consider my preference?”
“If you’re saying you prefer being called Commander Mondragon, that would be false,” Jothran said. “After all, your responses are better when I call you Kaela.”
There was a light pinching sensation as she stepped on his foot; not enough to unbalance them, or to cause any real pain, just a deliberate, mischievous reaction that her expression gave no hint of. He tried to suppress a chuckle.
Jothran lost track of how long they danced. It felt like it had barely been any time at all since they began, but they had cycled through at least three songs, and knowing Elsha, those songs were not short. Kaela’s movements were growing more fluid with every step, as if she was soaking up his experience and implementing improvements that suited her. It was impressive, if not also intimidating.
Wind, sharp and sudden, shattered his thoughts. The music stopped. Jothran turned his back to the wind, sheltering Kaela with his body, until it died back down again.
“J-J-Jothran,” Elsha said, her nose and fingers bright red. “It’s getting a bit c-cold.”
Kaela, too, was looking up at him, though her eyes held amusement, perhaps because he had shielded her. “Shall we call it a night?” she asked.
“If you have a bit more time, there is something I wanted to give you,” Jothran said.
Kaela’s eyebrows rose. “More than you already have?”
“Yes. It is something more physical this time — an object. A gift.”
“Someone thinks highly of himself.” Kaela turned, heading towards the tavern as Jothran’s jaw dropped open.
“That’s —”
Kaela kept walking.
“That is not what I was implying!” he cried, rushing after her.
It was only when he got closer that he could see her shoulders shaking with laughter. He sighed. Given the sorts of books she read, that manner of humor should not be surprising, but it was a bigger shock than he had expected to hear her say a thing like that out loud.
“You’re teasing me,” he observed, falling in beside her again.
“I don’t know what you expected, wording it like that,” Kaela said, wiping a tear from her eye. “It was impossible to resist.”
Her smile was so beautiful, he wanted to take it in his hands and kiss it.
“I’m just — I’m going to drop the violin by my tent, then go warm up,” Elsha called, hurrying by.
In a mere blink, Kaela’s smile was gone again, tucked back behind the stoic mask where it always hid, just out of sight.
After taking some time warming up in the tavern, Jothran returned to Kaela’s tent with her, finally presenting the parcel, blue with a green bow, in the safety of privacy.
Kaela took it gingerly, scanning his face for some sort of clue, her eyes burning with curiosity. With surprising delicacy, she unfastened the bow and opened the wrapping paper, sliding a book from the encasement.
“Happy birthday, Kaela,” Jothran said softly.
“How…” How did you get this? How did you know? Whatever she intended to say was lost behind a flood of emotion. He could see it in the subtle changes in her expression; the way she stared at the book’s cover, her lips parted slightly, the soft pink forming just under her eyes and around her cheekbones. The delicate way she held it, as if she had no right to even touch it, and finally, the way her eyes grew warmer, softer, when she looked at him. She was moved.
“This is the latest Elanor Steelbloom,” she informed him, as if he hadn’t known before she opened it.
“It is,” Jothran said.
“I never told anyone today is my birthday.”
“No, you didn’t, which made it difficult to learn of.”
Kaela stared at him. “Why do you try so hard to breach my barriers?”
Just as he took a breath to speak, Kaela raised her hand. “Sorry. Don’t answer that,” she said. “I can’t… hear that from you right now.”
“I understand,” Jothran said, “but at least let me say this much. You are more than just a commander. You are a person, Kaela. Please, let me treat you as one.”
It was as though all the weight she had been carrying rushed in to crush her at once. Her shoulders hunched, and the redness under her eyes began to spill over into tears. She clutched the book to her with one hand, while the other covered her mouth, as though that could somehow keep him from seeing what was happening.
“I’m sorry,” she said turning away, her voice a bare whisper. “I’m sorry, I —”
He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him, into a hug. She did not resist.
“So?” Valia Copperton asked the next day, at their meeting place behind the barracks. “How’d it go?”
“She…” Jothran hesitated. He couldn’t tell her that Kaela Mondragon had been moved to tears, and then actually cried herself to sleep. He couldn’t tell anyone that. “Yeah. She loved it.”
“What, no details?” A slow smile spread across Valia’s face. “Did it go that well?”
“It went as well as it should have!” Jothran insisted. “It was a birthday present, not anything unusual.” Or at least, it shouldn’t have been. His heart twisted in his chest, remembering the face she’d made.
“Aw, I was hoping you’d finally cracked the ice queen,” Valia said. “Maybe get her to smile for once?”
He knew she meant no harm, but her words were like a hand squeezing his heart. Kaela struggled every day to wear that mask, to be the steady, guiding hand for those who relied on her. No one knew her struggle. No one could know, or it would be for nothing.
“That’s just how she is,” Jothran said with a shrug.
The words tasted like ash in his mouth.