Chapter 46
The Silver Ember Guild smelled like ink, old wood, and the kind of stress that only existed when twenty grown adults tried to solve problems with swords.
Rowan normally found it comforting.
Today it made his skin itch.
He sat at his desk with a report in front of him neatly written, properly filed, stamped twice because Lila had decided one stamp was "not emotionally secure enough" and read the same line six times.
MONSTER ACTIVITY: MINOR INCREASE. PATTERNS: CONSISTENT.
His eyes slid to the next line.
RECOMMENDATION: MONITOR.
Rowan's jaw tightened. Monitor was what people wrote when they didn't want to admit they were afraid.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly, and tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Like the fact that the chair was apparently squeaking in a way that sounded accusatory.
Or the fact that he could hear Lila at the reception desk gently scolding someone about filling out the "quest acceptance form" with a drawing of a rabbit wearing armor.
Or the fact that Dorian had been watching Rowan for the last ten minutes like he expected Rowan to sprout horns.
Rowan did not look up. "If you stare at me any harder, you'll start a fire."
Dorian's voice came instantly. "I'm checking for possession."
Rowan turned a page with unnecessary force. "Possession does not work like that."
"It might! I read a pamphlet!"
"You can't read."
"I can read vibes," Dorian said proudly.
Rowan closed his eyes. "Dorian."
Dorian leaned closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator despite being incapable of subtlety. "You've been... weird."
"I am always weird."
"No," Dorian said, wagging a finger. "You're quietly weird. Like a man hiding a second secret family."
Rowan's eyelid twitched. "I do not have a second family."
Dorian squinted. "That's exactly what a man with a second family would say."
Rowan opened his mouth to argue And then Lila's voice floated across the hall, warm and calm.
"Dorian, leave him alone."
Dorian straightened immediately, like a scolded child. "I'm not bothering him. I'm providing emotional surveillance."
"You're bothering him."
"I'm worried," Dorian said, suddenly sincere. Then immediately ruined it. "Also, if he is possessed, I want credit for noticing first."
Rowan made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a prayer.
Lila approached with a small stack of papers, her expression composed. She placed them on Rowan's desk with practiced ease.
Rowan's eyes moved over them automatically. It was a list of errands. A supply schedule. An appointment slip from the apothecary with Lila's name neatly written at the top.
He paused.
The apothecary.
Rowan's fingers stilled on the page.
Lila noticed immediately. Her eyes flicked up to his—briefly, silently—and something passed between them that wasn't quite fear and wasn't quite a plan.
Rowan looked away first.
Dorian noticed that too, of course.
His brows drew together. His gaze snapped from the paper to Lila and back again.
"Why is there an apothecary appointment" he began.
Lila spoke smoothly over him. "Because I'm responsible."
Dorian blinked. "Since when?"
"Since always," she said, smiling.
Rowan's throat felt tight.
He didn't like how carefully she was smiling.
He didn't like how calmly she was breathing.
He didn't like how his heart was acting like he was about to charge into war.
Lila leaned closer to Rowan, voice low enough that only he could hear.
"After lunch," she murmured, "we should go."
Rowan's hand tightened around the paper until it crumpled slightly.
Then he forced himself to loosen his grip.
"Yes," he said quietly.
Dorian leaned in. "Go where."
Rowan flattened the paper and stared at Dorian like a man staring at a wall that had opinions. "To do paperwork."
Dorian's eyes widened. "Together?"
"Yes."
Dorian recoiled, offended. "That's romantic."
Rowan's deadpan was so powerful it could have felled trees. "It is not."
Dorian pointed at Lila. "Your face says it's romantic."
Lila's cheeks colored faintly. "My face says I'm busy."
Rowan stood abruptly. "I have a meeting."
Dorian blinked. "With who?"
Rowan's voice didn't change. "The wall."
And he walked away before his friend could invent another theory.
Rowan tried to pretend the day was normal.
He handled guild disputes. He signed requests. He approved a patrol schedule. He listened to a party of adventurers explain why a "haunted broom closet" was a high-level threat and responded with the same patience he reserved for children and drunk nobles.
All the while, the appointment slip sat in his pocket like a stone.
By midday, he had nearly convinced himself he was overreacting.
Then he caught Lila rubbing her wrist as if the paper stacks were heavier than usual.
A small motion. Nothing dramatic.
Rowan was halfway across the room before he realized he'd stood up.
Lila looked up. "What?"
"...Do you need help?" Rowan asked.
She glanced down at the papers. "Rowan, it's a ledger."
"It could be... aggressive."
She stared. Then laughed softly. "You're doing it again."
Rowan lowered his voice. "I'm being attentive."
"You're being anxious."
Rowan opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. Because she was right.
Lila's expression softened. She stepped closer and touched his sleeve gently—a small grounding gesture.
"After lunch," she repeated. "Okay?"
Rowan nodded once, stiffly.
Dorian, watching from across the hall, narrowed his eyes even further.
He leaned toward a nearby adventurer and whispered, loudly enough for three tables to hear: "They're planning something."
The adventurer whispered back: "A date?"
Dorian shook his head grimly. "Worse."
At lunch, Rowan barely ate.
Lila tried, at least. She picked at bread and soup in a quiet corner of the guild hall, away from the louder parties and Dorian's dramatic monologues.
Rowan sat opposite her, shoulders tense, hands folded like a man in court.
Lila studied him for a long moment.
"You look like you're about to fight a demon," she said softly.
Rowan stared at his bowl. "I have fought demons."
"I know," she said. "You look worse now."
Rowan let out a single breath that almost counted as a laugh. "That's not encouraging."
Lila reached across the table and brushed her fingers against his knuckles.
Rowan's hands relaxed immediately, as if her touch had cut a rope.
"Rowan," she said, voice quiet, "whatever happens... we handle it together."
His throat tightened again. "You're speaking like something is happening."
She held his gaze steadily. "Something might be happening."
Rowan swallowed. "And you're calm."
"I'm not calm," she admitted. "I'm just... trying to keep you from going into full 'protective statue mode.'"
Rowan's eyes softened. "Is that what I'm doing?"
"Yes," she said, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. "You're guarding me from soup."
Rowan looked at the soup like it had personally betrayed him. "It's suspicious."
Lila laughed again quiet, warm and for a moment the knot in Rowan's chest loosened.
Then Dorian appeared.
He always did.
He slid into the seat beside Rowan as if he owned it, elbows on the table, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"So," Dorian said. "Apothecary."
Rowan didn't blink. "Dorian."
Dorian held up both hands. "I'm just saying if there's poison involved, I should know. If there's romance involved, I definitely should know. And if there's a secret baby involved"
Rowan's spoon stopped midair.
Lila's bread paused halfway to her mouth.
Silence.
Dorian froze.
The entire table became a statue of poor choices.
Rowan slowly lowered the spoon. His voice remained calm, which was the most dangerous kind. "Why did you say that."
Dorian stared at them. Then at the bread. Then back.
"I-" He swallowed. "It was a joke."
Rowan's eyes sharpened. "It was a very specific joke."
Dorian tried to laugh. It came out strangled. "I make very specific jokes!"
Lila's cheeks were pink not flustered, not embarrassed. Just... caught.
Dorian leaned forward slowly, eyes wide like he'd just discovered a conspiracy of cosmic proportions.
Rowan's hand slid across the table and rested over Lila's, not tightly, but deliberately. A quiet claim. A quiet anchor.
Dorian's mouth opened.
Rowan's gaze locked on him.
Dorian closed his mouth.
Then he stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled.
"I-" Dorian said, voice suddenly too loud, "I have to, I need to... I left my-"
Rowan didn't move. "Dorian."
Dorian froze again.
Rowan's tone softened by half a step. "It is not your business."
Dorian nodded violently. "Yes! Correct! Absolutely! I am not here! I was never here! I am a rumor!"
He turned to leave, then stopped at the end of the table, twisting his hands together like a man trying very hard not to explode.
He glanced back. "Is Rowan going to faint?"
Rowan stared. "No."
Dorian nodded again, relieved for no logical reason. "Okay. Good. Great. Wonderful. I'm going to go... fight the chicken."
And he fled.
Lila waited until he was gone, then covered her mouth and let out a tiny laugh.
Rowan stared at her. "You find this funny."
"It's Dorian," she said, eyes shining. "He's... predictable."
Rowan exhaled slowly. "He guessed."
"Not really," Lila said gently. "He threw chaos at the wall and something stuck."
Rowan leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. "I am going to kill him."
"You won't."
"I won't," Rowan agreed, resigned. "But I will consider it strongly."
Lila's smile softened, then faded into something quieter.
She squeezed his hand. "Come on."
Rowan's breath caught. "Now?"
"Now," she said. "Before you work yourself into a panic."
Rowan stood immediately, posture too straight. "I am not panicking."
Lila lifted her brow. "You stood up like you heard a war horn."
Rowan, without missing a beat: "I am responsive."
Lila's smile returned, small and fond. "Let's go, responsive man."
The apothecary was warm and smelled of herbs and dried flowers. Shelves lined the walls, filled with tiny jars and bottles labeled in careful handwriting.
Rowan stood in the doorway like a man entering enemy territory.
Lila touched his arm. "Rowan."
"Yes."
"Breathe."
Rowan inhaled once, deeply, like he was bracing for impact.
The apothecary a kindly older woman with sharp eyes—looked up from her counter and smiled.
"Ah," she said. "Mrs. Valebright."
Lila's cheeks flushed faintly at the title. "Hello."
Rowan stiffened at the sound of it too, but in a different way like the word had weight. Like it changed the air.
The apothecary glanced at Rowan and hummed. "And the legendary husband himself. You look like you're preparing to duel my shelves."
Rowan's voice came out carefully controlled. "I am fine."
The apothecary's smile widened knowingly. "Of course you are."
Lila cleared her throat gently. "We... had an appointment."
The apothecary nodded and gestured toward a small side room. "Come in."
Rowan took one step.
Then paused.
Lila looked back at him, eyes soft. "Rowan."
He swallowed.
And followed.
The apothecary's side room was small, warm, and far too calm.
Sunlight filtered through a narrow window, illuminating bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A low table sat in the center with two chairs on one side and a single stool on the other.
Rowan noticed all of this instantly.
He also noticed how close the walls felt.
"Please," the apothecary said kindly, gesturing. "Sit."
Lila sat first.
Rowan remained standing for half a second too long, then lowered himself into the chair beside her with the careful control of a man who did not trust his knees.
The apothecary took her time. She checked notes. She washed her hands. She hummed softly, as if this were an ordinary visit.
Rowan's heart pounded loud enough that he was sure everyone could hear it.
Lila reached over and took his hand.
He startled at the contact not because it surprised him, but because it grounded him.
"You're shaking," she murmured.
He hadn't noticed.
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
She squeezed his fingers. "You don't have to be."
The apothecary turned then, her expression gentle but focused. "Mrs. Valebright," she said, "I'll need you to drink this."
She handed Lila a small cup filled with something that smelled faintly of mint and earth.
Lila nodded and drank without hesitation.
Rowan watched every movement like it was a battlefield maneuver.
The apothecary waited. Counted softly under her breath. Checked Lila's pulse, then nodded to herself.
She looked at Rowan.
"Well," she said, voice warm, "congratulations."
The word landed like a dropped sword.
Rowan's vision tunneled.
He did not speak.
Lila inhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment not in shock, but in something like relief.
"...So it's confirmed," she said quietly.
"Yes," the apothecary replied. "Early, but clear."
Rowan's chair creaked.
The apothecary glanced at him. "Guild Master?"
Rowan stared at his hands.
Confirmed.
The word echoed.
Something in his chest cracked not loudly, not dramatically. Just a quiet fracture, the kind that changed how weight was carried.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Lila turned toward him fully now. "Rowan?"
He swallowed. Hard.
"I-" His voice broke. He stopped, pressed his lips together, tried again. "I need a moment."
The apothecary nodded immediately. "Of course."
She rose, moving toward the door. "I'll give you privacy."
As the door closed softly behind her, the room seemed to shrink even more.
Rowan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together tightly.
"I'm not ready," he whispered.
Lila did not argue.
"I don't know how to protect this," he continued. "I don't know how to protect you."
He laughed once, breathless and brittle. "I've faced armies. Gods. This-" He shook his head. "This is worse."
Lila slid closer, her chair scraping softly against the floor. She reached up and placed a hand against his cheek.
He flinched not away from her, but inward.
"I'm afraid," he admitted.
There it was.
The full truth.
Not the fear of losing a fight.
The fear of losing everything.
Lila's thumb brushed gently beneath his eye, wiping away moisture he hadn't realized had escaped.
"I know," she said softly.
Rowan's shoulders shook once.
Then he broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a silent collapse inward as he bent forward, forehead resting against her shoulder, breath coming unevenly.
"I don't want to fail," he whispered, voice muffled. "I don't want to be too slow. Or too tired. Or too late."
Lila wrapped her arms around him, holding him with a steadiness that felt unbreakable.
"You won't," she said firmly. "Not because you're strong. But because you care."
He shook his head weakly. "Caring doesn't stop monsters."
"No," she agreed. "But it makes you careful. And careful is better than reckless."
Rowan pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red but focused.
"You're not scared?"
"I am," she said honestly. "But I trust you."
That nearly undid him again.
She pressed her forehead to his. "And you don't have to protect me from everything."
He closed his eyes. "I don't know how not to try."
She smiled softly. "Then we'll learn together."
They stayed like that for a while, breathing in sync, the weight of the future settling between them not crushing, but heavy enough to be real.
Eventually, Rowan straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
"...Dorian cannot know," he said hoarsely.
Lila snorted quietly. "That ship sailed."
Rowan groaned. "I will never forgive him."
"You already have," she said. "You always do."
He huffed a weak laugh. "Unfortunately."
The door creaked open.
The apothecary peeked inside. "Everything alright?"
Rowan nodded, composed once more, though something in him had fundamentally shifted.
"Yes," he said. "Thank you."
She smiled knowingly. "Take care of each other."
They stepped back out into the afternoon light, the world continuing on as if nothing had changed.
Everything had.
The walk back to the guild was quiet.
Not awkward.
Intentional.
Rowan kept his pace matched to Lila's without thinking. He watched where she stepped—not hovering now, but aware.
Lila noticed the difference.
"This is better," she said gently.
Rowan nodded. "I'm trying."
She smiled. "That's all I ask."
They reached the guild doors.
Dorian was waiting.
Of course he was.
He stood too straight. Smiled too wide. Had clearly rehearsed something.
"Welcome back!" he said loudly. "Did you... enjoy your... paperwork?"
Rowan stared at him.
Lila stared at him.
Dorian's smile faltered.
"...Okay," he said. "I feel like I'm about to be stabbed emotionally."
Rowan stepped forward. "You are not dying."
Dorian blinked. "That's... good?"
"And I am not cursed."
"Also good."
Rowan inhaled slowly. "And you are going to stop guessing."
Dorian hesitated. "But?"
Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder. Not threatening. Not angry.
Serious.
"Trust me," Rowan said quietly. "When I'm ready, you'll know."
Dorian swallowed.
Then nodded. "Okay."
A beat passed.
"...Can I still fight the chicken?"
Rowan closed his eyes. "Yes."
"Great." Dorian turned to leave, then paused. "Rowan?"
"Yes?"
Dorian smiled soft, genuine. "Whatever it is... you've got this."
Rowan opened his eyes.
"...Thank you."
Dorian froze, then beamed like he'd been knighted twice. "I'm going to remember this forever."
He ran off.
Lila leaned into Rowan's side. "He means well."
"I know," Rowan said. "That's what makes him dangerous."
They laughed quietly together.
As evening settled over Eastrun, Rowan stood at the guild balcony, looking out over the city he had sworn to protect.
This time, his hand rested over Lila's.
The future loomed uncertain, frightening, heavy.
But for the first time, he didn't feel like he was facing it alone.
And that made all the difference.