Chapter Twenty Four

The door creaked open.

Elowyn sat frozen on the floor, legs sprawled beneath her, robe clutched close. Her eyes darted to the two figures that entered. Azpen, scanning the room with a strange calm, and Baron, arms folded and brow low.

They paused at the sight of her on the ground.

Azpen was the first to speak.

“You good?”

“What happened?” Baron asked this time his voice oddly calm.

Elowyn scrambled upright, trying to fix her robe extra tight, her face flushed.

“I—I was.... I slipped.”

Azpen narrowed his gaze. His eyes trailed across the open drawer, the disheveled vanity, the tossed blanket. Something wasn’t adding up.

“You been in our rooms?”

“No!” Elowyn cried out but it sounded too fast.

Her voice cracked.

Baron raised a brow, his gaze hardening. Azpen said nothing, but his silence was loud.

“Not even Azpen’s? With all that clatter we heard? Your room is scattered. Why?” Baron asked.

Elowyn was really fumbling and trying to look like she was speaking the truth.

“I... I was looking for something. That rope. The punishment rope.”

They both blinked.

Confusion.

Elowyn was talking too fast now.

“I thought if I hid it, I wouldn’t get punished again. I just— I’m tired of it, alright?”

A silence stretched.

Azpen looked amused. Baron didn’t.

Azpen spoke. Dryly.

“You don’t want punishment, but you want the food, eh?”

Elowyn stiffened. Her cheeks flared even redder, and her mouth parted to defend herself, but before she could—

Baron stepped back suddenly, raising a hand to his face with a grimace.

BARON:

“Ugh. What is that smell?”

His voice had dropped an octave, eyes suddenly uncertain. His nostrils flared as if he were trying to make sense of it.

He was wincing now.

“It’s... confusing. It’s making me sick.”

And Baron didn't look like he was teasing.

He looked straight at Elowyn, but she turned her face away, heart hammering like a war drum.

She saw the exact second he caught himself—when his expression shifted from irritation to something sharper. She forced herself to shrink.

“I don’t smell anything.” She said, trying to not think.

Azpen tilted his head, sniffed the air, but said nothing. His eyes locked on her a second too long before he stepped away, as if sensing her fear.

Baron pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Something’s off. That’s all I’m saying. I just...."

Elowyn turned toward the bed, curling her fingers tight into her blanket.

Elowyn spoke softly.

“Sorry. That must be my herb again.”

Neither of them replied.

And for a moment, all three of them stood still—her lie like a glass between them, fragile and fogging up.

Baron turned away first, mumbling something under his breath.

Azpen lingered just a second longer, watching her as though he could smell a truth she hadn’t said.

Then he followed Baron out.

Elowyn dropped onto her mattress, her body trembling.

Please... please let them stay confused. Just a little longer. Where the hell is that stupid flask?!

Her eyes began to search frantically.

★★★

★★★

Baron paced like a beast in a cage, one hand tugging at the collar of his uniform.

“It’s still here. That damn scent. He fucking came in here."

Azpen sat where he was taking their dinner out of a large bag.

“It's not just a scent, is it?”

Baron didn’t answer.

He ran a hand through his hair, stopping only to grip the edge of the wall like it would ground him.

“It’s messing with me, Az. My head... it’s all over the place. I'm sick.”

Azpen crossed his arms.

“You sure you didn’t just catch feelings?”

Baron shot him a look so sharp, Azpen raised a brow and held his hands up in surrender.

“If it’s what it is.... we’ve got a bigger problem.”

Baron looked at Azpen, drained.

"What do you smell?"

"Something sweet. Something different.... But not really.... normal. It's confusing."

★★★

★★★

Elowyn took a deep breath first before she surreptitiously tore through the sitting room like a soft storm, shakingly opening drawers and pushing aside old books.

Her breath was ragged.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

Her eyes landed on the far edge of the dining table—something glinting beneath a folded table runner.

She dived for it.

The binding flask.

Dear Moon!

Joy coursed through her whole being.

Her fingers trembled so hard she could barely open it.

She pressed it to her lips and chugged, coughing halfway through but forcing the rest down her throat.

She began to hurry towards her room.

Then—the footsteps.

Her body jerked.

She jumped past the door for safety.

★★★

★★★

Baron leaned over the sink in his room, splashing his face with water, groaning low. Behind him, Azpen suddenly tilted his head.

AZPEN: (tense)

“She’s moving again.”

A clatter. A gasp. Fumbling.

Azpen was already halfway to the door.

★★★

★★★

She stumbled back in, heart hammering, half-choking on the bitter taste still in her throat.

Just as she shut the door—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

She froze.

“Elyan?”

Elowyn scrambled for her blanket, wiping her mouth and hiding the flask under her bed..