“You should stay put and have some rest!” a distraught voice echoed, reflected by the nacked marble walls.

The clerical cell was sparsely furnished. There were only the most basic necessities - bed, table, brazier, chair, a chest for personal belongings, and the insignia of two intersecting moons carved from light-colored wood hanging opposite of the door. Despite that, the room was bright and gave out a sense of security rather than the cold and oppressive feeling of an ascetic dwelling. It was maybe due to the large tomes, carefully arranged on the table and atop the chest that filled the air with their sweet old smell. Or maybe it was due to the large windows, letting the eye feast on the usually mesmerizing view of the temple complex and its gardens. On the other side of the opened shutters, the storm-washed trees of the temple’s inner courtyard, more akin to a small forest than a park, were basking in the sheen of the full moon.

Peeking through the thick, now dispersing clouds, the moonbeams were like spears stabbing into the blackness of the thicket. Their cold light, however, only made the darkness hiding under the fresh foliage deeper and more menacing. Like the crooked hands of demons, the shadows of some dry and broken branches, remnants of the recent storm and the gardener's negligence, crawled up the white walls of the dormitorium. They enclosed the cell’s windows, their hungry claws trying to rip them open to let the silver light in.

As it seeped into the cell, the moonlight was pushed back by the gleam of the multiple candles of the heavy iron candelabra perched on the table. Gold and silver clashed, creating a thin line dividing two realms. And on the border between the chaos of the afterstorm and the enticing reprieve of warmth and slumber stood a lone woman. Her back was encased in the icy light of the moon while her flaming cheeks were gilded by the tender flames of the dancing candlelight.

Hands on her heaps, Lorelei glared daggers at her unruly patient. However, her attempts at intimidation didn’t seem to work and Noah returned her stare with one just as stubborn.

“The Duke of Norden needs to be with his people at a time like this,” he protested and pointed at the bandages on his head. “This is too over-the-top for a mere flesh wound. I can assure you, I have quite the sturdy skull and I didn’t even lose consciousness, so-”

“Even if I were to disregard your head injury in some fit of madness, you are ignoring the obvious!” She pointed at Noah’s right foot with the sternness of a judge and the fury of an ancient goddess. “Your ankle almost broke. With such a bad sprain, you need to stay put for quite some time.”

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t remind me of my failure, thank you!” Noah crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling with pursed lips. “A fine knight I am - to trip and stumble in the most crucial moment… What a near-disastrous blunder, but Lady Luck was on my side.”

“This is no joking matter. Your well-being is paramount-”

“And who exactly put me in the situation to risk my well-being?”

“I… I didn’t intend for this to happen!” Lorelei bit her lips, her heart weighing down with guilt.

“Intentions and actions are two different things, my overly-compassionate Lady Swallow.” Noah threw her an accusatory glance and sighed dramatically. “I hope you learn at some point, preferably before you plunge into a volcano chasing after an injured fly, that you shouldn’t recklessly throw your life away.”

“Are you telling me to watch people die in front of me and do nothing?!” huffed Lorelei.

“Yes, if it means you are jumping into your own grave!” The playfulness drained from Noah’s voice. “Next time, I might not be there to save you. Your life is too precious to waste on someone like-”

“All lives are equally precious!”

“No, they aren’t!”

His words burned in her chest and inflamed her cheeks to reach infernal red. Her eyes lingered on the gauze covering his forehead and then on the wooden brace and bandages wrapped around his foot. The flames burned hotter. She glanced at his muscular forearms, now on full display due to his rolled-up sleeves, and noted every ridge and dell crisscrossing the dark skin. She remembered the state of his broad chest, conveniently hidden beneath the soft fabric of the shirt. She studied the curves of his face and every wrinkle crawling from his neck up to his left cheek and forehead. Then finally, her gaze clashed with his - wood against steel. A predetermined outcome…

The wood endured.

“A good ruler leads by example,” she said grimly. “You want me to stop risking my life? In that case, Your Highness, you need to put your words into actions too.”

“We’ve had this discussion already, Duchess.” A deep crease appeared between Noah’s brows.

“We did.” Lorelei folded her arms and lifted her chin. “And it seems neither of us has changed his stand.”

“Is this really the hill you are prepared to die on?!”

“I’ve heard that an uphill position is easier to defend so I’ll take my chances.”

The two glared at each other - teeth clenched, eyes blazing, and pride aplenty. They stared unblinkingly, challenging the other to look away, despite knowing very well that neither would. This was a clash between two enemy generals, a swordless duel none of them could afford to lose. Yielding would mean betraying one’s principles, and both knew, deep down, that those principles were the only thing keeping insanity and mayhem at bay.

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Time dragged, weighed down by heavy silence.

The corner of Noah’s mouth twitched - a minuscule movement that could be missed in a blink. Lorelei felt her lips curving up despite her ire and frustration. The next second, they both started giggling like little children, their fear, anger, and relief fueling the healing bouts of laughter.

“Oh… G-Gods… I needed that!” Noah wheezed and coughed, trying to regain composure.

“L-let me… get you… some water,” heaved Lorelei in kind and hurried to fill his cup.

While he was drinking, both made sure not to cross eyes again, fearing a new laugh attack. Thus, an unspoken truce was established, although Lorelei knew that it wouldn’t be the last time to have this very same conversation. Noah was just too stubborn to acknowledge her point.

A warm feeling blossomed in her heart.

Shaking her head with resignation, Lorelei turned to put away her bandages and medicine, but his large hand gently clasped around her wrist.

“Wait.” With a low groan, Noah sat upright in the bed and pointed accusingly at her elbow. “Won’t you take care of that?”

Lorelei glanced at the barely visible red stain on her sleeve.

“It’s just a scratch from when I fell, nothing urgent.”

“And what if it gets infected?” Noah put a finger in the air and closed his eyes, reciting some painfully familiar words. “You might get blood poisoning and die. Your stupid pride can cost you a limb.”

“Y-you…” Lorelei gaped at him.

“Sit down, Duchess. I’ll clean and bandage the wound for you.” Savoring her embarrassment, Noah grabbed a jar of salve and a fresh gauze from the table. “And don’t even think of running away. Being schooled by you, Duncan, and Willam, I’m better at nagging and pestering than a whole regiment of nursemaids and grannies. Give up.”

“Even with your foot in that condition?” Lorelei raised an eyebrow bemused.

“Oh, I’ll find a way to catch you.” His eyes sparkled. “But if you pity my condition, you can make my life easier.”

“A physician should never endanger their patient’s wellbeing,” retorted Lorelei and sat elegantly on the chair. “Just tell me if you need any guidance, my lord.”

“Thank you, I can manage this much.”

With a cheeky smirk, Noah rolled up her sleeve, careful to not cause her unnecessary pain. His thick, rough fingers moved with surprising dexterity as they revealed the large scrape and the even larger bruise encircling it. His smile immediately wilted, but he didn’t say a word. Lorelei looked at him perplexed as he took the half-full washing basin from the table and put it on the floor next to her chair. Then he grabbed the pitcher from the table in one hand and a piece of gauze in the other.

With utmost concentration, Noah let the water from the pitcher trickle over her wound.

It stung!

Lorelei tensed but made sure not to utter a sound, lest she alerted him and made him worry for nothing. She looked for a distraction to make her forget about the aching injury and found one quicker than anticipated.

Noah’s face, strained and devoid of its previous cheerfulness, was mesmerizing. And not only his face. Every move he made was the precise gesture of a master craftsman touching a fragile glass figurine. The way he washed and dried her scrape, how he meticulously applied the salve and began bandaging her elbow, all this made Lorelei’s heart quake. She knew where this skill came from. She could almost see him - sitting in a field tent with waterskin in his hand, tending to yet another wound; alone, away from his men so that they wouldn’t notice his weakness.

The touch of Noah’s calloused fingers was coarse and warm, reminding her of the dunes of Sefis, heated by the summer sun. She had spent hours lying in the sand, lulled by the splash of the waves and the cries of seagulls, dreaming of dragons and damsels, and brave princes in shining armor. But the fairytales never talked about the injuries the prince had to endure while saving the damsel. Never uttered a word about what the price for heroism could be.

The weight in Lorelei’s chest grew into an almost irresistible desire. She wanted to hug him. To kiss his forehead and make his wounds go away. To heal not only his body but also his soul.

Maybe it was due to the bruise or maybe it was the ointment’s fault, but Lorelei’s skin was more sensitive than usual. Even the tiniest touch of his fingertips was enough to send shivers up her arm. She held her breath, captivated by every gesture of his, every twitch of his brows, every strand of hair futilely trying to obscure his beautiful eyes. As he tied the end of the bandages in a neath knot, his knuckles slightly brushed against her lower arm.

Unable to endure any longer, Lorelei twitched and the suppressed gasp finally escaped her lips.

Noah froze, his expression turning rigid. But Lorelei could discern more beneath the seemingly impenetrable surface. A blush his dark complexion couldn’t completely hide. A pair of ashen eyes burning with sadness and yearning.

“My lor-”

“You should go.” His voice sounded pained and gravelly.

“But…”

“It was a mistake” He clenched his fists and his head dipped between his shoulders. “Please. Just… get out.”

In an instant, an icy wall was erected between them. Lorelei’s heart, flying in elation just a second ago, plummeted into her stomach. She wanted to stay. Demand an explanation. Force him to look at her. But at the same time, her own fears rekindled.

How could she demand answers when she herself was neither capable nor willing to return the gesture? She was terrified to hear him out and even more so to put her own thoughts and feelings into words.

Standing up abruptly, she took a couple of rigid steps toward the exit, all the while expecting him to stop her.

He didn’t.

With no help from her frozen mind, her fingers somehow found the handle on their own and clumsily pressed it. The door opened, accompanied by Noah’s silence and the sad squeaking of hinges.

Alas, Lorelei’s path was blocked anew, this time by the rigid Sir Lucas who stood in the door frame with a hand up and ready to knock.

“Good evening, Your Highnesses!” The young knight immediately stood straight and greeted. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we seem to have a problem.”