Chapter 10
Rowan Valebright learned very quickly that "courting" came with rules.
Unfortunately, no one had explained what they were.
He stood at the entrance of the Silver Ember Guild, hand hovering in the air, caught between offering Lila his arm, holding the door, or pretending none of this was happening.
Lila stood beside him, pretending not to notice his internal crisis.
"Rowan," she said gently, "you can just... open the door."
"Yes," he said. "Of course."
He opened the door.
Immediately, the guild erupted.
"THEY'RE WALKING IN TOGETHER."
"I TOLD YOU."
"Is that a DATE CLOAK?"
Rowan flinched.
Lila smiled politely, then leaned in and whispered, "Is this worse than yesterday?"
"...Yes."
The rumors had not calmed overnight.
They had organized.
Someone had created a betting board.
Rowan did not know when this had happened, only that it now existed and that Dorian was inexplicably in charge of it.
"Morning!" Dorian called cheerfully. "Ah, excellent posture today, Rowan. Confident. Romantic. Ten silver says he trips by noon."
"I will remove the board," Rowan warned.
"You'll have to defeat Marla first."
Marla waved. "I'm undefeated."
Lila covered her mouth, laughing.
Rowan felt something warm settle in his chest despite the humiliation.
They moved through the morning carefully.
Too carefully.
Rowan found himself hyperaware of everything:
How close Lila stood
Whether he should touch her hand
If speaking too formally sounded cold
If speaking too softly sounded possessive
He had faced enemy generals with fewer tactical concerns.
At one point, Lila leaned across the desk to pass him a document.
Their fingers brushed.
Rowan froze.
Lila froze.
The entire guild froze.
"...Sorry," Lila said.
"No," Rowan said. "That's—fine."
Dorian sighed loudly. "This is going to take weeks."
The first real problem appeared around midmorning.
A visiting delegation from the eastern caravans arrived — merchants, guards, and one extremely observant matron who took one look at Rowan and Lila and smiled knowingly.
"Well," she said, clasping her hands, "isn't this lovely."
Rowan straightened. "Welcome to the Silver Ember Guild."
"And your wife?" she prompted.
Lila choked.
Rowan turned red down to his collar.
"We are not—" he began.
"We are courting," Lila said clearly.
The room went silent.
Rowan stared at her.
The matron's smile widened. "Ah. Even better."
The delegation nodded approvingly.
Dorian wiped a tear. "She said it out loud."
After the delegation left, Rowan cornered Lila near the stairwell.
"You didn't have to say that," he said quietly.
She looked up at him, nervous. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," he said quickly. "I just—wasn't prepared."
She smiled softly. "Neither am I."
That helped.
A lot.
The trouble with being official, Rowan discovered, was that people stopped pretending not to notice things.
By noon:
Adventurers asked Lila's opinion before Rowan's
Someone asked if Rowan preferred window seating "for dates"
A bard attempted to write a song (it was stopped with violence)
Rowan retreated to his office.
Lila followed shortly after.
"You're hiding," she observed.
"I am regrouping."
She sat across from him.
"You know," she said, "we don't have to perform."
He looked up. "Perform?"
"For them," she gestured vaguely toward the guild. "We don't owe anyone anything."
He relaxed slightly. "Thank you."
She smiled. "That said—"
"Yes?"
She reached across the desk and adjusted his collar.
"You forgot to fix this."
Rowan's brain stopped.
"...I see."
She leaned closer. "You're allowed to hold my hand, you know."
"I am?"
"Yes."
He took her hand.
The door slammed open.
Dorian leaned in. "ROWAN—oh. Good timing."
Rowan did not release her hand.
Dorian grinned like a man watching history.
Later that afternoon, Rowan was forced to prepare for a patrol briefing.
He stood in the armory, armor laid out before him.
He hesitated.
His back protested when he bent.
Lila noticed immediately.
"Hold still," she said.
She helped fasten the straps.
Rowan closed his eyes briefly.
Dorian, of course, was there.
"Well, well," he said. "If this isn't domestic."
Rowan sighed. "Say one word."
"Oh, I'm saying many," Dorian replied. "Mostly to myself."
Lila laughed quietly.
Rowan opened his eyes.
For a moment, the world narrowed to this:
Her hands steady
His breath slowing
The weight of armor feeling lighter than it should
"I don't mind," she said softly, "helping."
He nodded. "I know."
When Rowan left for patrol, he paused at the door.
"I'll be back before dinner," he said.
Lila smiled. "I'll hold you to that."
Dorian leaned over. "If he's late, I'm blaming the armor."
Rowan shook his head, smiling despite himself.
As he stepped into the street, he realized something unsettling.
Courting was terrifying.
Not because it was fragile—
—but because it was worth protecting.
Rowan Valebright returned to the Silver Ember Guild well past sunset.
He knew this because the lanterns were lit.
He also knew this because the smell of dinner—warm bread, roasted vegetables, something sweet—hung in the air like an accusation.
He winced.
"I said before dinner," he muttered to himself.
The patrol had taken longer than expected. A collapsed road. A frightened merchant caravan. No monsters—thankfully—but enough responsibility to remind Rowan that peace was never as simple as it pretended to be.
Still.
He rolled his shoulders, armor creaking softly, and stepped inside.
The guild hall was quieter than usual.
A few adventurers lingered, laughing softly. Someone was asleep at a table. Dorian was nowhere to be seen, which was never a good sign.
Rowan's eyes immediately found the reception desk.
Lila wasn't there.
His chest tightened.
He found her in the side dining room.
A single lantern lit the table. Two plates sat untouched. A teapot steamed gently between them.
Lila sat with her hands folded in her lap, posture straight, eyes lifting as he entered.
She smiled.
"Welcome back."
Relief hit him so hard his knees nearly buckled.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know."
She stood.
"I kept it warm," she added, gesturing to the food. "Dorian said you'd forget time existed once someone mentioned road repairs."
Rowan exhaled. "That sounds like him."
She tilted her head. "You're exhausted."
"Yes."
"You're bleeding."
"...A little."
She sighed and reached for a cloth.
Rowan froze as she stepped close, dabbing at a cut near his temple.
"I don't mind waiting," she said softly. "I just... wanted to make sure you came back."
He swallowed.
"I always come back," he said.
"I know," she replied. "That's the problem."
They ate together quietly.
It wasn't awkward.
It wasn't tense.
It was... gentle.
Rowan hadn't realized how rarely he ate without talking about logistics or danger until now. Lila asked about the patrol. He told her about the merchant's children and the way one of them had saluted him like a knight.
She laughed.
"That's adorable."
"It was terrifying," Rowan admitted. "I felt responsible."
She smiled at him like that made sense.
When they finished, Rowan reached for the teapot.
"May I?"
She nodded.
As he poured, his hand shook slightly.
Lila noticed.
"You're pushing yourself," she said.
He paused. "I don't know how not to."
She considered that, then reached across the table, resting her hand over his.
"You don't have to stop being who you are," she said. "Just don't disappear."
The words settled between them.
Rowan nodded once. "I won't."
They stood to clean.
That's when Dorian burst in through the side door.
"There you are!" he exclaimed. "I knew it. Romance thrives on mild disappointment."
Rowan groaned. "You are banned from this room."
"Can't," Dorian replied cheerfully. "I brought reports."
He placed them on the table—then leaned in close, lowering his voice.
"You're doing fine," he said quietly. "Both of you."
Rowan blinked.
Dorian straightened immediately. "Anyway! Tomorrow's schedule is chaos. Someone signed us up for a 'Community Appreciation Breakfast.'"
Rowan stared. "Why?"
Dorian grinned. "Apparently people want to see what domestic bliss looks like on a legendary scale."
Lila covered her mouth, laughing.
Rowan sighed. "I will survive war. I will not survive breakfast."
Later that night, Rowan walked Lila home.
The streets of Eastrun glowed softly with lanternlight. Music drifted from taverns. Somewhere, someone was singing terribly.
They walked close—but not touching.
Eventually, Lila slowed.
"Rowan?"
"Yes?"
"Are you afraid?" she asked.
He stopped.
She turned to face him.
"Of... this," she clarified. "Of letting someone stand where danger can see them."
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Yes."
She nodded. "Good."
"...Good?"
"If you weren't afraid," she said, "you wouldn't be taking it seriously."
She stepped closer.
"I don't need you to be invincible," she added. "I just need you to be honest."
Rowan reached out—hesitated—then rested his hand lightly against her back.
"I am terrified," he admitted.
She smiled softly. "Me too."
They stood there for a moment, quiet and steady.
Then Dorian leaned out of a nearby window.
"KISS OR I'M STARTING A CHANT."
Rowan groaned.
Lila laughed.
They did not kiss.
But they leaned their foreheads together, breathing the same air.
And that was enough.
When Rowan returned to the guild alone, he found a note on his desk.
Tomorrow, breakfast at dawn. Wear something nice.
— L
He smiled.
Courting, he realized, wasn't about grand gestures.
It was about choosing to stay.
Even when the world pulled.