Ezeas had started wondering how many times he would have to restrain himself before he would finally have the chance to give someone the thrashing they deserved. After the commander had thoroughly questioned the attendees, making sure that the blame came to rest with Lyari and Casia, he had dismissed everyone, including Ezeas, to talk to the two women, alone.

Ezeas was making his way to the infirmary when he spotted Laelith, coming in the opposite direction; he had seen her angry before and it was something of a miracle that more people did not end up needing a healer when crossing her. However, the darkness on her features promised an end to the world that would be fiery and bloody, if she had her way.

“If you have any last words for your former lover, I suggest you go say them now. Soon, there won't be enough left of her to speak to,” she quickly shot at him, in passing.

He reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Laelith, you need to let the commander handle this.”

“No, Ezeas!” she yelled, spinning on him.

Her cobalt eyes sparked and there was a shade of pale red over her cheeks, which only showed when she was beyond the scope of fury.

“No! I can't do this again, I can't watch other people tear apart someone I care about.”

“I'm not expecting you to.”

He glanced around and lowered his voice.

“Remember how we said we'd each handle one of them? I think it's time we do. I had hoped Lauril's command would keep them in check but if they insist on changing the rules, then so will we.”

She stared at him, unconvinced.

“I will leave Casia to you. Just promise me you'll wait until your anger has cooled. The message we send doesn't have to be in blood.”

“It will be!” she argued and he tightened his grip.

“We can't afford to cause an issue with the entire compound, Laelith! Saelina will be the one who pays the price.”

She paused at that and seemed to think her options through. Ezeas let go and waited for her to come to the right answer. She sighed.

“You're right. Which just makes me mad at you, as well.”

He smirked.

“Someone has to keep you from causing a massacre.”

He gestured towards the building from which she came.

“How is she?”

“I'm not sure. She wouldn't let the healer look at her. Last I saw, she went out behind the infirmary. I think her trust is shot to pieces.”

Laelith's tone was filled with concern and pain and Ezeas shared her worries. The sudden shift in Saelina's attitude towards them in the caves had been alarming but could be explained away. However, her hesitance whenever either of them were alone with her, the looks of skepticism which occasionally came from her direction, it had all been surprising, coming from someone who had been almost too trusting before then.

“I'll find her. You get some rest and figure out how you're going to handle Captain Sersha,” he instructed.

Laelith seemed about to protest but then nodded her agreement and walked off towards the barracks. Ezeas went behind the main building, looking for his charge. When she was nowhere to be found he lifted his head up and sniffed the air; the smell of blood was still notable and he followed it, away from the bulk of the building and to a corner of the compound, behind the records room, where a wide well was dug, into the stone. Saelina was leaning over the edge, reaching for the bucket. Ezeas leaned against the very back wall of the records room as he observed her.

“If you fall in, do I get a piece of your soul for saving you?”

She straightened her back and shot him a glare over her shoulder. He was getting used to the way her gray eyes seemed to reflect the fiery shine of her curls when angry but this time they seemed dull and tired.

“Is that in reference to something I should know?”

He shrugged himself away from the wall and walked towards her.

“Just an old Nyxan fairy tale.”

He bent over the well and pulled the bucket up, handing it off to her. She put it on the ground and sat down next to it, favoring her right side. Then she took off her shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the cuts on her upper body.

“How'd you find me?” she asked as she bundled up the cloth and dipped it into the water.

When pulled out, she put her other hand against the drenched fabric and he saw cold vapors rise from it, before she gently pressed it against her swollen left eye. The skin had turned a deep purple and it did not seem like she could see out of it. She looked away, seemingly trying to hide her face from him, behind the lumpy cloth.

“I've spent enough time around you that I can pick your scent out of any crowd,” he explained as he sat down in front of her.

“Not to mention, blood smells strongly to our kind.”

Cautiously, he reached out a hand and stroked it across one of the cuts, healing it in the process. She gasped at the cold sensation then winced but did not shy away from him. He felt encouraged to continue as she sat still, observing his work. From the subtle way she tensed and shifted he could tell she was deep in conversation with the dweller in her mind.

“Which fairy tale?” she asked after a few minutes.

Her voice was weak and hoarse but he could not see her expression, still turned away from him.

“It's a story about a little boy who befriends a dragon whelp. The two of them become inseparable, playing together, all day long. One day, they played hide and seek and the whelp fell into a well. It was too young to use its magic or fly out of there.”

His voice was soft as he continued to heal up the cuts, one at a time.

“The little boy found the whelp, after searching for a long time, and he used the bucket to pull out the dragonling. In gratitude, the whelp granted the little boy a piece of its soul.”

“I see,” Saelina mumbled. “What did it look like?”

Ezeas smiled.

“Some say it was an enchanted necklace with a gemstone in it, some say the boy achieved power beyond mortal comprehension, some say the boy could always call the dragon for help, no matter the distance. In the end, it's just an allegory for how our people first started working with dragons.”

“It's sweet,” she said, earnestly.

He pulled his hand back, looking over her pale skin. Freckles dotted her body, a reverse night sky on mortal canvas. Seeing no more wounds, he nodded in satisfaction. Saelina dipped her bundled shirt in water again, and started cleaning off the dried blood. He met her gaze and the look of her battered face made something twinge in his heart. When she saw his gaze travel to her wet cheeks she quickly looked away again.

“I'm fine now. You can go ahead, I'll be along, soon.”

“So you are hiding your tears,” he said.

“It's a sign of weakness, right?”

He furrowed his brow as he observed her. She met his gaze cautiously but did not elaborate. Before he could think about it, he reached out a hand, placing it softly against her bruised cheek.

“My mother cries.”

She watched him with wide eyes and he smiled.

“You've never considered her weak, have you?”

“No.”

“My father's even worse. Pay him an emotional compliment, sometime. You'll see for yourself.”

With gentle strokes of his thumb he slowly drained the blood away from the swelling. Saelina closed her eyes, leaning against his hand. Unlike the previous time, she did not catch herself, instead sighing with contentment as the bruise slowly faded. He smiled down at her as his thumb kept caressing her cheek and the skin around her eye. The silence between them was pleasant and warm and for just a moment, Ezeas wished time would stop.

“Ezeas.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. Hearing is real name from her always sent an odd chill through him, as if the very act was a spell in itself. He met her gaze, waiting for her to continue.

“What is this, between us?”

He should have expected the question, blunt delivery included. Yet, he found himself pause, as if he needed to consider his answer. He took a deep breath.

“We're as much as we ever can be. I'm here to keep you alive. Whatever either of us might wish for, beyond that: friendship, trust...more. It just can't happen. Not with me.”

His eyes met hers and he hoped he could convey the truth of his words, fully. Her gray gaze was so clear as she looked into his. He felt her head move down and up, against his hand.

“I understand. Thank you, Ezeas.”

He nodded as well and removed his hand. The spell between them hovered for a few more seconds then it dissipated, too.

“Are you going to look at my rib?” she asked, her tone light.

He shook his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“It's going to be the bare minimum, I don't have unlimited reserves and you get hurt so damn often, it's a wonder I still have magic at all.”

“Well, then both of you should keep your lovers in check,” she grumbled.

Ezeas was not fooled that she had so easily gotten past the tender moment, but he had to admire her willingness to move on from it and return to normal. She always managed to give him pause before assuming what she would do.