Yaveria gleamed under the harsh light of midday, its streets bustling with the noise of merchants and the hurried footsteps of townsfolk. The golden sunlight did little to warm the cold tension between Aerin and Elden as they walked side by side through the maze-like alleys. The gazes between them was sharp, a weapon they wielded to mask the undercurrent of something deeper that neither dared to confront.

“So, this is your beloved Yaveria?” Elden asked, his voice carrying that familiar note of amusement, though his eyes scanned the buildings with an edge of curiosity. “I was expecting something more... impressive.”

Aerin shot him a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe if you paid attention instead of running your mouth, you’d appreciate its charm.”

He scoffed, leaning closer to her as they walked. “Oh, I’m paying attention, believe me.”

The heat between them was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface of their words. Each step brought them closer, the tension thickening like a cord about to snap. Aerin could feel it—the pull, the craving for something more than just sharp words and stolen glances. But before she could push it any further, something caught her eye.

At the far end of the square near a fountain, two men stood by a market stall, their faces cloaked in shadow despite the bright sunlight. Aerin’s stomach twisted. They looked almost identical to the figures from her dream—the same dark clothing, the same predatory stillness. Her breath hitched, and without thinking, she grabbed Elden’s arm, pulling him into a narrow side street.

“What the—" he started, but Aerin silenced him with a hand on his chest, her eyes wide, intense. Her mind swirled trying to remember her dream.

“Those men,” she whispered, nodding toward them. “They’re looking for someone.”

Elden followed her gaze, his expression darkening as he studied them. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve seen them before,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with unease. “In my dreams. And now they’re here.” Her pulse raced as she pressed herself against the wall, hiding behind a stone archway as the men began to move.

The two figures walked slowly, almost too casually, as they questioned the market vendors. Aerin strained to hear, every word making her blood run colder. Her magic started to pulse in her ears.

“The woman,” one of the men said, his voice gravelly, like stone grinding against stone. “We know she’s here. King Hazrael seeks her.”

Each vendor shook their head, their faces pale, their eyes darting nervously toward the men. No one dared to speak, and yet Aerin could feel the fear that spread through the square like a ripple in a pond. No one wanted to cross these men—or King Hazrael.

Elden tensed beside her, his jaw tight. “Are they looking for you?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Aerin nodded, the realization settling over her like a heavy cloak. But why? Why her? She had been running from her past for so long, in her dream the men talked about her past. What could the King want with her?

Without a word, they began to follow the men, keeping to the shadows as they weaved through the bustling streets of Yaveria. The city, usually so familiar to her, now felt like a labyrinth, every corner filled with danger. She could hear her magic brewing in her ears, the sound of her boots on the cobblestones too loud in the oppressive silence.

Finally, the men turned down a narrow, dimly lit alleyway. Aerin grabbed Elden’s hand, pulling him behind a crumbling wall as the men slowed their pace, speaking in hushed tones. She needed to know why they were after her. Their voices were too low for her to hear.

Aerin pressed herself close to Elden, her back against the wall, their bodies hidden in the shadow of the alley. The space was tight, too tight, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as the men’s voices drifted through the air. She could feel Elden’s body against hers, his heat, his presence. It was overwhelming, making it harder to focus on the danger that lurked just a few feet away. His breath brushed her neck, and the tension between them was as thick as the darkness surrounding them.

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“I can feel you shaking,” Elden whispered, his voice low, rough. His hand found her waist, steadying her, grounding her, even as the world around them spun into chaos.

“I’m not scared,” she lied, though her pulse betrayed her.

“Liar,” he murmured, his lips inches from hers, his breath warm, igniting something deep within her. “But I’m not leaving your side.”

Her fear, her vulnerability—it all melted away in his presence, replaced by a hunger, a desperate craving for something she didn’t yet understand. And in the space between them, the threat of danger seemed to blur, eclipsed by the unbearable tension that crackled in the air.

They stood there, pressed together in the shadows, hearts racing, as the world outside their hiding place teetered on the edge of something terrible. Aerin’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. Her eyes met his and they stood there, for a long time.

As they left the shadowed alley, the tension still lingered between them, thick and electric. Aerin could feel the remnants of Elden’s touch burning on her skin, her heart still hammering in her chest. She glanced at him as they stepped into the bustling street once more, trying to gauge if he felt it too. His face, as usual, was an infuriating mask of calm. She tried to steady her breathing, maybe this sensation was only hers.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are you always this reckless, or is it just my company that brings out your worst ideas?”

Elden raised a brow, giving her a sideways smirk. “Reckless? You’re the one dragging us behind walls like some common thieves.”

Aerin rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. “If I hadn’t, you’d be standing in the middle of the square, all smug and in plain sight.”

“Maybe I wanted them to see me,” Elden quipped, his tone light but something unreadable flickered in his gaze. “I don’t hide, Aerin. I face things head-on.”

“Except when it involves being smart, apparently,” she shot back, pushing her hair behind her ear as they approached one of the vendors the men had questioned. Her eyes roamed as far as she could see, the men were gone.

The stall owner, a wiry man with graying hair and shifty eyes, eyed them suspiciously as they approached. Aerin leaned on the edge of the stall, trying to seem casual despite the fluttering unease still twisting in her gut.

“What did they want?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

The vendor glanced around nervously before speaking, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Who?” He asked, trying to be vague.

“The warm clothed, mysterious, weird looking men you talked with before” Elden smirked at the old man.

“Those men... they were looking for someone. A woman.” He answered, almost with a whisper.

Aerin’s stomach twisted, though she kept her expression neutral. “A woman? What kind of woman?”

The vendor hesitated, his eyes darting around as though the very mention of the men would summon them back. “They didn’t say much. Just that the woman was... tied to the ancient Royal line. They said the king is looking for her.”

Aerin felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine. She had vague memories of her family, they were well off but not royal. Right?

She glanced at Elden, who had gone unnaturally still, his jaw tight.

“Anything else?” Elden asked, his voice tense, though he was trying to keep it casual. His eyes, however, were focused, almost too focused, on the vendor.

The vendor shook his head quickly. “That’s all I know. No one here’s talking. They’re all scared stiff.”

Aerin gave the man a curt nod and turned to walk away, but she noticed the shift in Elden’s posture as they moved further from the stall. His shoulders were too stiff, and his eyes kept darting around as if he was avoiding looking directly at her. Something wasn’t right.

She slowed her pace, letting the space between them close. “You know something,” she said quietly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear above the noise of the market.

Elden didn’t answer immediately, his face carefully blank as he kept his gaze ahead. “I don’t know anything more than you do.”

Aerin huffed, not buying his sudden nonchalance. “Please. You’ve been twitching like a cornered animal ever since we heard about the woman they’re looking for. Care to explain?”

He shot her a glance, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t twitch.”

“Sure you don’t,” Aerin muttered, stepping in front of him to block his path. “But you do know something. What is it?”

For a moment, Elden’s eyes darkened, the easy smirk he usually wore replaced by something more serious. He took a deep breath, then leaned in close, his voice low. “It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

Aerin narrowed her eyes at him, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he shot back, his voice sharp but quiet, as if he didn’t want to draw attention. His eyes flicked over her face for a moment, softening just slightly before he straightened.

Aerin opened her mouth to argue, but something in his tone made her pause. There was a weight to his words, a thread of something he wasn’t saying, and it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

But the way he looked at her, like he was holding back not just from her but for her, made her hesitate. She let out a slow breath, narrowing her eyes. “Fine. But you don’t get to pull this ‘mysterious man of few words’ act forever.”

He offered her a small, wry smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They continued through the market, the tension between them still thick but now layered with something more complicated. Aerin couldn’t shake the feeling that Elden knew far more than he was letting on—and that whatever it was, it had something to do with her. Every brush of his arm against hers, every glance he stole when he thought she wasn’t looking, sent a pulse of awareness through her. But underneath it all, a storm was brewing. What did he know?