Chapter 13
Rowan Valebright had defeated wyverns with less preparation.
He stood in his room, staring at his wardrobe like it had personally insulted him.
Armor was out of the question.
Formal wear felt... dishonest.
Casual made him look like a retired lumberjack.
He picked up a tunic.
Put it down.
Picked it up again.
"This one says 'responsible,'" he muttered. "The other says 'trying too hard.'"
There was a knock at the door.
Rowan jumped.
"Come in," he said, far too quickly.
Dorian strolled in without waiting for permission.
"You look like you're preparing for a duel," he observed.
"I am," Rowan replied. "With expectations."
Dorian grinned. "Ah. The deadliest opponent."
Rowan folded his arms.
"This is supposed to be simple," he said. "Dinner. Walk. Conversation."
"Boring," Dorian said immediately.
Rowan's eye twitched.
"It is not boring. It is respectful."
Dorian circled him.
"You're thinking like a man who's punched dragons," he said. "You need flair."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do," Dorian insisted. "Something memorable."
Rowan sighed. "What are you suggesting?"
Dorian smiled slowly.
"That's the spirit."
An hour later, Rowan deeply regretted everything.
"Why is there a musician?" Rowan hissed.
"Ambiance," Dorian replied, adjusting the position of a lute player in the guild courtyard. "Romantic ambiance."
"I wanted quiet."
"You'll have quiet," Dorian said. "Between songs."
Rowan rubbed his temples.
"And the lanterns?"
"Symbolism."
"And the tablecloth?"
"Commitment."
Rowan stared at him.
"This is a trap."
Dorian clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax. She'll love it."
She arrived early.
That alone unraveled him.
Lila stepped into the courtyard, paused, and blinked at the scene before her.
Lanterns.
Music.
A carefully set table.
Rowan standing rigidly beside it, hands behind his back like he was awaiting inspection.
Her lips parted.
"Oh," she said softly.
Rowan swallowed.
"Is this... too much?" he asked.
She smiled.
"No," she said. "It's... very you."
That somehow made it worse.
They sat.
The musician began to play.
Immediately too loud.
Rowan leaned forward.
"I can ask him to—"
"It's fine," Lila said, amused. "I like it."
Rowan nodded.
Then knocked over his water glass.
It spilled.
Everywhere.
Lila laughed.
"I'm cursed," Rowan said flatly.
"You're nervous," she corrected.
"Yes."
"That's kind of sweet."
He stared.
"That's not helping."
Dorian hovered.
Too close.
Rowan glared at him.
Dorian gave a thumbs-up.
Then whispered to the musician.
The tempo changed.
Rowan nearly stood.
"No," he hissed. "Do not make it faster."
Dorian grinned.
Lila noticed.
"Is he... interfering?" she asked.
Rowan exhaled.
"Yes."
She laughed again.
"Of course he is."
They managed conversation.
About small things.
About nothing.
About everything that wasn't responsibility.
Rowan relaxed—just a little.
Then a pair of adventurers burst into the courtyard.
"Guild Master!" one called. "We need a ruling!"
Rowan froze.
Lila sighed.
Dorian lit up.
"I'll handle it!" Dorian said far too eagerly.
Rowan stood.
"No, you will—"
Too late.
Minutes later, shouting echoed.
The musician stopped playing.
Lanterns swayed.
Rowan closed his eyes.
"I am so sorry," he said.
Lila leaned closer.
"You keep apologizing," she said. "I keep staying."
That... stopped him.
He looked at her.
She smiled, warm and steady.
"Let's see how bad it gets," she added.
He chuckled despite himself.
From across the courtyard, Dorian yelled:
"ROWAN. SMALL PROBLEM."
Rowan sighed.
"Define small."
"I may have promised them a duel."
Lila's eyes widened.
Rowan stood.
"Dorian."
"Non-lethal!" Dorian called back. "Mostly."
Rowan turned to Lila.
She rose too.
"Together?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Together."
They walked toward the chaos side by side.
The date, officially, was already ruined.
Somehow—
Rowan felt lighter.
Rowan knew, with a certainty forged by decades of battle, that whatever Dorian meant by small problem was neither small nor contained.
He walked toward the commotion with the weary resignation of a man who had once sealed a demon gate using his own shield and still preferred that experience to whatever awaited him now.
Lila matched his pace.
"So," she said carefully, "what kind of duel?"
Rowan sighed.
"Social."
"That's worse."
"Yes."
The courtyard had become a gathering point.
Adventurers leaned against posts.
Someone was selling snacks.
The musician had resumed playing—dramatically this time.
At the center stood Dorian, smiling like a man about to make things profoundly worse.
Across from him were the two adventurers from earlier: one tall, one broad, both equally annoyed.
"Guild Master!" the tall one said. "Your commander here says disputes can be settled the old way."
Rowan stared at Dorian.
"The old way," Rowan repeated slowly.
Dorian nodded. "Symbolic combat! First blood wins. Very traditional."
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That tradition was abolished because someone lost an ear."
Dorian waved a hand. "Minor ear."
Lila leaned closer to Rowan.
"You look like you're reconsidering friendship," she whispered.
"I've reconsidered it many times," Rowan muttered. "It keeps surviving."
Dorian clapped his hands.
"Alright!" he announced. "Rules are simple. No killing. No maiming. No summoning horrors beyond the fifth circle."
Rowan snapped his head up.
"The fifth—"
"Sixth," Dorian corrected himself. "Fifth is fine."
Rowan took a step forward.
"Dorian."
"Yes?"
"You are on thin ice."
Dorian beamed. "As always."
The duel began.
It ended quickly.
Rowan didn't intervene.
He didn't need to.
Lila did.
She stepped between the fighters mid-swing, holding up a clipboard.
"Stop," she said calmly.
Everyone froze.
Even Dorian blinked.
"What?" he said.
She adjusted her glasses.
"According to guild policy subsection twelve, paragraph four, disputes between members must be resolved through arbitration before physical engagement."
Silence.
The adventurers exchanged looks.
"Is... is that real?" the broad one asked.
"Yes," Rowan said instantly. "Very real."
Lila continued.
"And as acting receptionist, I am invoking it."
She looked at Rowan.
"Is that allowed?"
He nodded.
"Completely."
The crowd groaned.
Dorian stared.
"That's not how this was supposed to go."
Lila smiled politely.
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not," Rowan said softly.
She smiled wider.
The adventurers left, grumbling.
The snacks vendor packed up.
The musician slowed to a stop.
The courtyard returned to something resembling peace.
Rowan exhaled.
"That," he said, turning to Dorian, "was unnecessary."
Dorian scratched his cheek.
"In my defense—"
"No."
Dorian tried again.
"It did bring people together."
Rowan stared.
"Together against you."
"Unity is unity."
Rowan raised a hand.
"Go."
"Where?"
"Anywhere that isn't here."
Dorian saluted.
"I'll be back."
Rowan said nothing.
Dorian grinned. "You love me."
Then he left.
They stood alone again.
Lanterns flickered.
The table remained untouched.
Rowan gestured to it.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Again."
Lila sat.
"So am I," she said.
He blinked.
"For what?"
"For not stopping him sooner."
He laughed despite himself.
"That would require divine intervention."
They ate.
Quietly.
Comfortably.
The disaster had stripped away expectation.
What remained felt... real.
Rowan leaned back.
"You handled that better than I would have."
Lila shrugged.
"I panic internally."
"That's my specialty."
She looked at him.
"You're different tonight."
He frowned.
"How?"
"You're not trying to be impressive."
He paused.
"That wasn't intentional."
"I know," she said. "That's why it's working."
They walked afterward.
Through Eastrun's lamplit streets.
Rowan's steps slowed without thinking.
Lila matched him.
No rush.
No performance.
Just two people who had survived a very bad plan.
"Rowan?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Next time," she said gently, "no lanterns."
He smiled.
"Deal."
A shout echoed from behind them.
"WAIT."
They both turned.
Dorian sprinted toward them, breathless.
"I forgot to tell you," he panted. "I invited some nobles tomorrow to—"
Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder.
"No."
Dorian froze.
"You're uninviting them."
"But—"
"No."
Dorian sighed.
"...You're no fun."
Lila laughed.
Rowan smiled.
Dorian looked between them.
"...Oh," he said slowly. "That worked?"
Rowan nodded.
Dorian grinned.
"I regret nothing."
They continued walking.
Hand brushing hand.
Not holding.
Not yet.
But close enough to feel the warmth.
The date hadn't gone as planned.
Somehow—
It had gone better.
The city was quieter the farther they walked.
Eastrun never truly slept, but the deeper streets—those far from taverns and guild halls—knew how to lower their voices. Lanternlight softened. Footsteps slowed. Even the night air seemed gentler, like it understood something fragile was happening and didn't want to disturb it.
Rowan loosened the clasp of his cloak with a quiet exhale.
Lila noticed.
She always did.
"You're sore," she said, not as a question.
Rowan paused mid-step. "I—"
"You favor your left side when you're tired," she continued. "And you roll your shoulders like you're trying to convince them to forgive you."
He let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me," she said softly. "Yes."
He hesitated, then shrugged the cloak from his shoulders entirely, folding it over one arm. Without the weight, his posture eased, but his age showed more clearly—subtle stiffness, the way strength now required maintenance instead of obedience.
"I don't bounce back like I used to," he admitted.
Lila slowed her steps so he didn't feel like he was falling behind.
"That's not a flaw," she said. "It just means you've lived."
Rowan glanced at her.
He didn't reply.
He didn't trust his voice yet.
They stopped near the river.
Moonlight shimmered across the water, broken only by the slow drift of boats tied for the night. Somewhere far off, laughter echoed—but distant enough to feel like another world.
Rowan rested his forearms on the railing.
"This was not how tonight was supposed to go," he said.
Lila leaned beside him.
"I think," she replied carefully, "that might be why I liked it."
He turned, surprised.
She smiled—not teasing, not embarrassed. Just honest.
"You weren't performing," she continued. "You weren't trying to be the Guild Master. Or the hero. You were just... Rowan."
The name landed differently when she said it like that.
"I don't know how to do this," he confessed quietly. "Dating. Courtship. Whatever this is supposed to be."
She nodded. "That's okay."
"I keep thinking there's a right way. A safe way. And if I mess it up..." He shook his head. "I've failed at a lot of things. I don't want this to be one of them."
Lila rested her elbows on the railing, gaze drifting to the water.
"I don't need perfect," she said. "I need present."
He looked at her fully now.
"When you're here," she added, "actually here... that's enough."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
It was warm.
They stood there longer than necessary.
Rowan's hand rested on the railing.
Lila's fingers brushed it once.
Twice.
Neither moved away.
Finally, her hand settled against his.
Not a grip.
Not a declaration.
Just contact.
Rowan inhaled slowly, as if afraid sudden movement might shatter the moment.
"You know," he said quietly, "dragons were easier."
She laughed under her breath. "They usually are."
He turned his hand slightly, enough that his fingers curled around hers—not tight, not claiming. Just... there.
She didn't pull away.
When they reached her door, the night felt heavier. Fuller.
The kind of moment that asked something of them.
Rowan hesitated.
"I—" He stopped. Tried again. "I had a good time."
Lila smiled. "I know."
"I mean—despite everything."
"Especially because of everything."
He nodded.
There were words pressing behind his ribs. Important ones. Dangerous ones.
He didn't say them.
Not yet.
Instead, he lifted her hand—still in his—and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Slow. Deliberate.
Her breath caught.
His did too.
"Good night, Lila," he said.
"Good night, Rowan."
She stepped inside.
The door closed softly.
Rowan stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the wood like it might answer something.
Then he turned, smiling faintly, heart lighter than it had been in years.
Behind a nearby corner, Dorian watched the entire thing.
He grinned.
"Oh," he murmured. "This is going to be fun."