(Dylan)

“Is it because I’m a princess?”

“What?” It surprised Dylan when she used her own title. He opened his eyes to Eury, her deeply furrowed brows staring back at him. She was sitting upright, stiff with pain, looking at him expectantly. This clearly wasn’t just a passing thought.

“The reason you wouldn’t kiss me…” Eury’s voice was quiet. She held an unsoiled corner of his borrowed cloak between her fingers.

He shifted to realign his back against the tree, remembering when he’d shoved his foot into his mouth earlier—ankle deep. He let out a sigh. Her gaze was still fixed on him. She hadn’t forgotten about his poor choice of words as he’d hoped. This conversation was a no-win scenario—his own personal Kobayashi Maru.

He pursed his lips, averting his eyes as he worked his thumb into the palm of his other hand. Using friction, he rubbed the grime away. His thumb found the blisters he’d earned from training on the Everafter, which were now hardening into callouses. He couldn’t avoid answering forever. Besides, if the conversation helped distract her from the pain until Runemist arrived, then he’d talk with her about anything. But this time, he’d choose his words more carefully.

He shrugged. “We just met, and I don’t really know you so…” He noticed the look in her golden-flecked amethyst eyes. At first, he thought this was just another minefield, and she was merely waiting for him to say the wrong thing again.

But he’d never been graceful, only earnest. So when he reluctantly bumbled his way into the field this time, he found no mines, no ulterior motive. Only her eyes searching to understand. Dylan was quickly learning that people were often more fragile than they appeared, and his offhanded comment had cut deeper than he intended.

And Holy shit, that resonated with him.

Eury was simply asking an honest question, hoping to get an honest answer. The vulnerability it took to do that was humbling as she risked ridicule, rejection, and worse.

She was him; just asking different questions.

“I…” He paused, his gaze dropping to the ground as he grappled with how to preserve her trust. She deserved the truth.

“I didn’t want to presume that a prin—” He cut himself off, fumbling to replace the P-word. “That… you would want…” His hand drifted to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously as the words faltered.

Dylan found it difficult to explain what he meant, especially since he didn’t know how he felt about it himself. Was it fear of saying the wrong thing, or was he just unsure of what he truly wanted?

He gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s not like I go around dreaming of kissing every stranger I just met…” He paused. Then took a risk of his own. “Princess or otherwise.” He was glad to see the word hadn’t upset her.

Then another tackle-happy princess sprang to mind. He hoped the grime on his face was enough to hide the blood rushing to his cheeks as he thought about the pretty fox woman. It’s not like he lied about the princess part. He’d feel the same way about Meekan, title or not. But this wasn’t about Meekan—it was about Eury.

Eury acknowledged his reply with a slow nod, her gaze briefly dropping to the cloak in her lap. He watched as the gears behind those amethyst eyes continued to turn. She kept searching for the answer, needing to know whether the fears that dogged her had merit.

Dylan really wanted to give her what she needed. This was unfamiliar territory for him. In the past, he’d always been in Eury’s position. And all he’d ever gotten was the lame, “It’s not you, it’s me.” That never answered the question that mattered most: why.

“Oh,” she said, exhaling with a mix of relief and uncertainty after hearing his answer. She bit her lip, hesitating briefly before taking another risk. “So, it’s not because I’m too young?”

Immediately, he thought, ‘You are definitely too young.’ She was barely a woman; she looked maybe twenty by Dylan’s admittedly terrible guesses. Worse, there was the possibility she could be younger, which left him feeling even more uncomfortable.

While his body may betray him to a pretty face or a stiff breeze, he was still in charge of whether he’d act on those impulses.

It’s not that he couldn’t understand her concern. An age difference was one of those transitional challenges that got better with time. But it wasn’t immediate—like renouncing a royal title and moving to Canada.

‘How do I explain getting canceled?’ Dylan wondered.

“I mean—” He paused, glancing away as he searched for something more tactful.

Eury was quick to interject and make her case. “I won’t be thirty-two forever.” She glanced down at the orange fabric in her hands. “And in a century, it won’t even matter.” The determined elf gave a casual shrug. She was trying to play down the potential age gap.

Dylan blinked, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s no way you’re thirty-two.” The words slipped out before he could catch them. Her eyes shot up at him.

“I am,” she snapped. Her jaw tightened with indignation.

Dylan frowned, watching her prickly posture build another defensive wall, brick by brick. He imagined this was one of the bigger points of contention in her life, and she must feel as if she wasn’t being taken seriously because of it.

“Either way, in a century, I’ll be well past my human expiration date,” he joked with a weak smile, half for her sake and the other for his.

“Really?” A hint of concern lingered in her words as the tension in her shoulders slipped away. “How long do humans live?”

“Oof, that’s an unpleasant thought.” Dylan scratched the back of his head. “A few of us might make it just past a hundred,” he guessed. “I think the average might be seventy-five, give or take.”

“That’s…” Eury paused. Her face contorted, her eyes narrowing, as she struggled to process his mortality. “A terrifyingly short amount of time.”

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“Tell me about it…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Her fingers rose to cover her agape mouth. Realizing her own carelessness, her eyes darted away from his with embarrassment.

“I just thought… Since humans and elves were so similar…” Her amethyst eyes sought his, softened with compassion and tinged with pity. “I’d just assumed…” Her words trailed off again.

“It’s okay,” he said, offering her a gentle smile and a slight shrug. The last pattering of raindrops on the leaves filled the momentary silence. “I get it.”

She bit her lip, staring at him as though he might vanish at any moment. The smooth texture of the cloak between her fingers seemed to ground her with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“Well,” she said, drawing a steady breath. “It’s good that you’re going to be an adventurer. Magic will help extend your lifetime. Each rank will slow your aging.” Her eyes dropped to his borrowed cloak, her fingers brushing its edge as if lost in thought.

“A shame they’ve restricted Time magic…” she said, running the orange hem between two fingers. “You could’ve lived as long as we do.”

“Time magic?” he repeated out loud before his brain finished processing the phrase. He cast his gaze into his hands on his lap, realizing his mistake. Thankfully, his nails were filthy, a convenient distraction as he tried to act cool about the forbidden magic. But it was nice to hear Time magic wasn’t all drawbacks.

Either she hadn’t heard his words, or, more likely, she was smart enough not to entertain the dangerous topic. Either suited him fine.

Eury reached down to break off a long blade of grass just above the collar, occupying herself by tearing off one finger width at a time. She stole glances at him every few rips. To Dylan, it was obvious she was working up to another question. He was content to groom his nails while he waited. Eventually, the blade ended, and she tossed what remained to the side.

She took a breath to ask her question, but winced instead as her body reminded her of her injury. The pain helped ground her, bringing her the courage to ask. “How old are you?” Her question was simple. And it was his answer she needed the courage for.

Dylan frowned, his pursed lips sliding from one cheek to the other before he said, “Thirty-five.”

Her expression softened, the tension in her jaw dissipating as she realized what he already knew—her age wasn’t a problem.

“We’re the same generation,” she said. “I’m not too young.” He detected the upbeat inflection hidden in her voice and glimpsed her smile before she fought it back with the practiced composure of royalty.

Dylan chewed on his cheek. He was just past a third of his expected lifespan, a sobering concept to think about, while she had well over nine-tenths of hers to still experience.

“I think elves and humans may have different maturation rates,” he cautioned, but if her realization gave her more self-confidence, he wouldn’t press the issue further.

“Elves finish maturing around twenty. I’ve been an adult for twelve years now.” She tilted her head to ask her next question. “Have you finished maturing?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times as he thought about how to answer that question. “Physically, yes.” The jury was out on how long it took humans to mature mentally, but he wasn’t about to admit that part out loud.

Eury let out a sigh, and Dylan sympathized with her. Finding answers by ruling out everything else was exhausting.

Her shoulders dipped ever so slightly, as if the weight of another question was already pulling her down. Her gaze fell to the floor before trailing over herself, a slow, measured sweep starting at her feet and ending with her fingers brushing against her cheek. The way she studied herself, as if searching for some unseen flaw, made Dylan’s stomach twist.

When she looked up again, her eyes locked onto his with an insecurity that cut to his core. They were searching, yet burdened by a fear so familiar. Her expression teetered between dread and determination, caught in that strange limbo where need and aversion collided. His heart ached for her. Whatever question she was about to ask, it was one no one wanted to face—but she couldn’t stop herself. Her need for an answer outweighed her fear of the truth.

“Is it…” she stumbled. “Do you… Am I not pretty enough?”

“How? What… I don’t—You’re kidding me, right?” Dylan didn’t know how to respond. He knew attractiveness was subjective, and it was clear she wasn’t fishing for a compliment. But before he could finish processing the question and counter her intrusive thoughts, she doubled down with her next question.

“Am I ugly by human standards?” the more-than-pretty-enough princess asked.

The absurdity of it all hit him like a wave, and his composure shattered. His slack-jawed, open mouth twitched into a smile, which grew into a giggle. That giggle bubbled up, rolling into a hearty laugh that shook his stomach and shoulders.

Eury recoiled, her expression tightening as his laughter struck her wrong. “Why are you laughing?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dylan’s laughter died in his throat. His hand shot up to clamp over his mouth, muffling the remnants of his giggle. His wide eyes searched hers, panic flickering across his face as he scrambled for a way to undo his unintended cruelty.

Too late to soften the blow, Dylan held out a hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It wasn’t kind of me to laugh at your question.” He composed himself, bringing his hand back to rest on his chest.

“What I should’ve said was: every single elf I’ve met is an eleven out of ten by human standards.” Honestly, that was true for most of the people he’d met on Mother of Dragons.

She considered his words, letting him stew for a moment. Then her glare eased, and her jaw relaxed, a grin beginning to form. “I thought you said you were good at math?” she asked.

Dylan smiled, chuckling softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, you’re missing my point. I’ve yet to meet an elf that wasn’t stunningly beautiful.”

Eury raised an eyebrow at him, her voice soft as she asked, “Including… me?” Now it seemed like she might’ve been fishing for a compliment.

“How is this my life?” He shook his head, tossing up both hands in mock exasperation. Then, with a pointed look, he said, “Yes, Eury, you’re exceptionally pretty.”

She glanced away, color rising in her cheeks as her smile tugged them higher. For Dylan, the moment felt far too brief before it faded, and her mind returned to the search for her reason.

“Then… I don’t understand,” she admitted. Dylan had the inkling that this truly was his no-win scenario.

He rubbed his chin, his finger brushing the scruff of his growing beard as her question echoed in his mind. ‘Have we been looking at this all wrong?’ he wondered. Then the idea struck him, piecing together fragments of her words, her tone, and the way her gaze lingered just a little too long.

‘She’s trying to figure out why I don’t like her—but what if that’s not the real question?’ His chest tightened as the idea formed. Maybe it wasn’t about him at all. Maybe it was about her—about why she wanted him to. And perhaps she didn’t even realize it.

A simple question could test his theory, but asking it would mean forcing her to confront something she might not be ready to face.

Dylan stole one last glance at her, his stomach twisting as he tried to sound casual. “I mean… I didn’t even think you liked me like that,” he said, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

“I didn’t—” Eury shifted against the tree, suddenly uncomfortable with her position. “I mean, I don’t,” she corrected, her gaze darting away.

“Then why does it matter if I want to kiss you or not?”

“It… it doesn’t,” she insisted, her voice wavering as if trying to convince them both.

That was enough to give Dylan his answer. But instead of clarity, it left him with more questions. ‘Why don’t I want to kiss her?’ The thought rooted itself in his mind, twisting and growing until it became his own.

The wind rustled through the leaves, accompanied by the steady chirp of insects. Dylan let the post storm sounds fill the silence between them as they each wrestled with their thoughts. Resting and talking with her had helped some, but his energy was still drained. He worried it might not fully return until he had more flak.

Minutes passed, and still no sign of Tome & Key. He guessed they had at least a couple more hours before they’d arrive—unless, of course, they had some sweet magic abilities up their sleeves, which was always a possibility.

Eury’s voice broke the quiet, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her golden-flecked amethyst eyes narrowed on him, her tongue clicking sharply.

“Are you sure it’s not because I’m a princess?”