The cool breeze simmered over her, stars twinkling softly above as specks of clouds faded into the darkened sky.
Most of the people roaming Chiro had turned in for the night, the only light being that wish ushered from the moon.
"Where were you?" Bazil ran to her, a deep scowl burrowed on his face.
He reached to grab her wrists, yet she flinched, stopping him.
"Sorry, I forgot not to do that. But you were gone when I got back and—"
"Sorry," she touched his icy cheek. "I was trying to see if anyone knew anything."
His eyes lifted to the flower-house behind her, and he hid his expression with a palm over his face.
"You shouldn't go to places like that. It's not befitting for a…"
"An unknown singer wandering through the realm with her brother?" she teased, smiling until his face softened. "Sorry for just leaving. I won't do it again. But it wasn't fruitless."
His head perked up, and she gestured for them to return to the inn.
Once, there he pulled down the bamboo blinds while Salīa prepared some tea. Soon she noticed Bazil's eyes…right on her bosom.
Has that stranger's perversity somehow spread to him, too?
It was only when she undressed and changed into the provided night robe that she realized it was her pendant he was staring at. Usually, it was hidden, but the top of the dress was so low-cut it was bound to spill out.
Wait…so the madam looked there and let me in because she mistook the pendant for a token. Does that mean that the stranger wasn't staring at my breasts either, but…
She shook her head.
Either way, he was still perverse.
She emptied her coat pockets. Bazil peered at the shimmery painting of The Prophet that she accidentally took with.
"Is this what a flower-girl drew for you?"
"Actually, it was a boy."
"A flower-boy?" he raised a brow, tracing over the scribbled signature in the corner. "I've never heard of such."
"Me either. He was just a patron there."
"A patron?"
Bazil's face pinched tight, and he folded his arms. Salīa couldn't help but grin. While part of him was mad about her endangering herself, it was clear he was more bothered for another reason.
"Jealous?"
He didn't even deny it; he just asked, "Is that what he looks like?"
"His face was covered," she handed over his tea. "But I doubt he looked anything like this. Your lessons taught you well as mine that this is The Prophet, remember?"
Bazil eased when he realized it was true.
"He did seem quite lovestruck by The Prophet's image. And while this man was somewhat prideful, I'd hope that he wasn't vain enough to present an image of himself and fawn about it so lustfully."
"So, you'd rather he fawn about this man so lustfully?" Bazil asked, his face blank as he stopped drinking.
"Why should I have any qualms about a man's affections for another man?"
"Why?" Bazil's tone heightened. "You do realize the Prophet was a previous incarnation of you, don't you?"
He stared so seriously at Salīa that she couldn't help but burst out laughing. And she didn't stop for a long, long while.
"Are you drunk?"
"No," she teared up with giggles. "I swear. It's just, you are jealous."
He averted his gaze instantly.
She felt his cheek again, now feverishly hot.
"Dear Bazilani, that incarnation is several centuries old. While it may be my old avatar, the only thing that binds me to The Prophet is that we're both thought to be The Protector.
People desire each incarnation based on what they've achieved. And that's got nothing to do with me because I haven't achieved a thing."
His face turned down.
"Don't say that, Līa. It's unkind."
"It's not that I look down on myself. It's just, they found lands, saved people, slayed demons, and let peace wash over the flames of war," she emphasized. "I nearly lost my land, hurt people, attracted demons, and let the flames of war evaporate the tides of peace. I'm lucky not many know it's me, because it'll only take one breath before they decide I'm not The Protector but The Destroy—"
"Stop," he said firmly. "Queens don't pity themselves. Why go to the Faraway Forests if it didn't even help you strengthen your resolve?"
Those words whipped her ruthlessly.
Bazil had become more serious lately. He always was, yet it was always balanced by his playfulness with her.
If she wanted to swim far in the ocean, he'd happily swim with her. If she wanted to swing through the trees, he'd be right beside her. If she dared to jump from the mountain into the waterfall, he'd nervously fall along too.
His affections were always so deep in heart, but light in spirit, that she could easily absorb it and return it. Yet his spirit had almost become as heavy as Raki's.
Raki always had a slight gloom that made the depth of his heart weigh like a brick. If reasoned that if he was weighed down by himself, so were those who received his affections.
Bazil's adoration always felt weightless, like floating on a cloud. Yet now…
"I'm not a real queen, Bazil. I left the Faraway Forests before I was granted merit by the magi elders. And I might pity myself at times, but it's not like I don't have any faith in who I am.
It's just...I accept that my role as Queen is temporary until the true one returns.
And I might be The Protector, but I have not earned the right to be seen as such when I haven't done anything to be credited in such a way."
She laid on the bed, finishing her cup.
"I understand why you're upset. Because you swore yourself to someone who's meant to lead.
Why would you want to guard someone who doesn't seem to have faith in their own leadership?
It's no different from how Raki felt when your father asked him to guard me instead."
Bazil did not defend her words, yet kept his eyes on her.
"You know what?" she lifted. "I'll become who I'm meant to be. How shameful is it that I'm crying over receiving all these gifts when many are crying over never receiving any?"
She patted for him to sit by her on the bed. He did so tentatively.
"I don't yet know how to be who I truly am, but one way or another, that's exactly who I'll be."
To her surprise, Bazil grinned. He even touched her cheek, albeit briefly.
"I believe you," he said, reaching for her hand hesitantly. "I apologize if I was harsh."
"Shh," she laid on his chest.
While it's true he was softer as a child, as his own resolve strengthened, so did the rest of him. And while it unsettled her at times, she was now grounded in her understanding.
As much as he was choosing to trust in who she was becoming, she was also choosing to trust in who he was becoming, too.
"Is there anything you gathered at that place?" asked Bazil.
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