The walk back to the inn passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the squelching of Thristle's boots and Vesper's occasional happy burbles. Seraphina maintained a careful distance, though her eyes never left her charge. The morning mist had begun to burn away, leaving behind a humid warmth that made Thristle's clothes cling unpleasantly.

"Upstairs. Immediately." Seraphina's voice carried the same crisp authority she used when directing junior maids. I'll have hot water sent up." She caught Thristle's arm as the younger woman moved past, her grip firm but not unkind. "And this time, stay put."

Thristle managed a weak nod, unable to meet the maid's gaze, and hurried up the stairs. Seraphina watched her go, waiting until the door clicked shut above before allowing herself a small sigh. She ought to be furious at the girl's attempted escape, at the reckless endangerment of their mission. Instead, her hands had yet to stop trembling from the moment they'd heard those boar grunts echoing through the trees. Thoroughly unprofessional. Such... distracting reactions would need to be dealt with. Better to focus on practical matters.

While the sounds of splashing and occasional muttered curses drifted from behind the washroom door, Seraphina moved through Thristle's belongings efficiently. She carefully sorted through the contents of the recovered belt pouches. The first contained what appeared to be cooking spices - or at least, that's what an ordinary observer might assume. Seraphina's trained eye recognized several components common to minor alchemical workings, though nothing particularly dangerous. Dried herbs, crushed crystals, and powdered materials would fetch a decent price from the right buyer, but nothing that explained Thristle's peculiar behavior.

The second pouch made her pause. Seeds, six of them, carefully wrapped in waxed paper packets. They looked ordinary enough - like something a gardener might carry. Then she found a leather-bound notebook, its corners worn smooth from frequent handling. Opening it revealed a curious mixture of content - half the pages were filled with what appeared to be complete gibberish, random letters and symbols crowding together in uneven lines. The other half contained notes so poorly written they might as well have been in another language. Diagrams cluttered the margins, plants and crystals were sketched with more enthusiasm than skill. Several pages had been torn out entirely, leaving ragged edges behind.

Between its pages, a folded piece of paper slipped out. Seraphina caught it before it could flutter to the floor. The top portion had been deliberately torn away, leaving only the "cture recipe" as a header. Below it, a recipe sprawled across the page in handwriting so different from Thristle's usual scrawl that Seraphina found herself studying it more closely. Each letter was formed with precise, measured strokes.

Seraphina's extensive knowledge of household management—which included a thorough understanding of common cooking and medicinal preparations—couldn't make sense of it. The ratios of oils to essences, the careful timing notes—perhaps this was a perfumer's formula? But even that didn't quite fit the pattern she knew. Whatever this "recipe" claimed to be, its true purpose remained stubbornly opaque.

The money pouch, however, provided the most interesting puzzle. Mixed among the expected copper and silver coins were three gold pieces - minted, their edges still sharp. Even a single gold coin was more than most locals would see in a year, and here was an apprentice carrying three. Something didn't add up. According to Lord Blackbriar's records, Thristle had come straight from her apprenticeship. Even with a generous master, saving this much would have taken years of work.

A particularly loud splash and muffled yelp from the washroom made her smile slightly. "Still alive in there?" she called out, her hands already returning everything to its exact previous position.

"Unfortunately," Thristle called back, her voice echoing slightly off the washroom walls. "Though I may never feel clean again." There was another splash, followed by muttered curses.

"That... that thing. I can still smell it."

Seraphina's lips twitched as she efficiently packed prepared rations by the inn staff. "Consider it motivation to stay put next time."

"I said I was sorry!" A pause, then more quietly: "Sort of."

"Indeed." Seraphina's tone carried equal measures of amusement and exasperation. She moved to the window, watching Vesper contentedly rolling about in its pit below. The slime's surface had returned to its usual peaceful blue, though occasional purple ripples still crossed its mass when it looked toward the inn.

"Though I am curious," Seraphina continued, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish by running? Surely you realized we would track you down."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The splashing stopped. When Thristle finally spoke, her voice was small, almost lost beneath the drip of water. "I wasn't... I wasn't exactly thinking that far ahead. I just felt I had to try.”

"Try what, exactly?" Seraphina asked, her voice gentler than before.

The silence stretched so long that she wondered if Thristle had heard her. Then came a soft splash, followed by an even softer sigh. "To get away, I suppose. While I still could."

"From Vesper?"

"From all of it." Something clinked against the copper tub. "From that slime. From whatever Lord Blackbriar's really planning. From..." Thristle's voice cracked slightly. "From you."

Seraphina's hands stilled in their folding. "Me?"

"You're not just some maid, are you?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "The way you move, how you handle that rifle... I've seen guards with worse aim. And the way you tracked me this morning..." A small splash. "Nobody learns that serving tea."

"No," Seraphina agreed quietly. "They don't."

More water sloshed as Thristle presumably shifted position. "So what are you really? Lord Blackbriar's spy? His assassin?"

"His protector," Seraphina corrected. "Though at the moment, that protection extends to you as well." She moved to the window again, watching Vesper's hypnotic jiggle display below.

"Whether you want it or not."

"I don't need protection," Thristle muttered, though her earlier encounter with the boars suggested otherwise. "I just... I need..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to finish the thought.

"What you need," Seraphina said firmly, "is to stop running from whatever's frightening you so badly. Because next time, you might not be so fortunate in your choice of pursuing monsters."

"Vesper's not..." Thristle began automatically, then caught herself. "I mean, that thing isn't... " She made a frustrated sound. "How did everything get so complicated?"

"Life often is." Seraphina's voice softened fractionally. "Though it helps to face it with allies rather than alone."

The splashing resumed, more vigorous than before. "Even if those allies include a slime and a 'maid'?"

"Especially then." Seraphina allowed herself a small smile. "Now, are you nearly finished? We have a long day ahead, and I believe Vesper is getting creative out of boredom with those rocks."

A yelp and more splashing suggested Thristle had tried to stand up too quickly. "Please don't let it hug me again. I'll be good. I promise."

"That depends entirely on you," Seraphina replied, though her tone held more warmth than warning now. She stepped into the washroom, her skirts rustling against the doorframe as she settled against it. "Though I must admit, Vesper's methods of discipline are remarkably effective."

"Speaking of remarkable...", eyes meeting Thristle's reflection in the mirror. "I've never seen an elf quite like you before. Those sharp teeth, and that pure white hair..." She hesitated. "Though I admit, I haven't left the mansion grounds often."

"What, no comment about my height?" Thristle's grin revealed those peculiar sharp teeth, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Most folks usually start there."

"I was trying to be polite," Seraphina replied primly, though her lips twitched as she gathered a comb from the vanity's scattered supplies.

"Well, um, the teeth are just a rare trait," Thristle said with practiced casualness, her fingers unconsciously brushing her chin-length white hair. "Not unheard of in some families. And the hair, like scars..." She shrugged, the movement a bit too deliberate to be natural. "Just something that happened a while back."

Something in her tone made Seraphina's hands still, the comb hovering mid-stroke. She caught the slight tension in Thristle's shoulders, the way her eyes skittered away from her own reflection. After a moment's hesitation, she resumed the gentle rhythm of grooming.

"Perhaps we should focus on making you presentable," Seraphina said, smoothly changing the subject as she sectioned Thristle's damp hair between practiced fingers. "Though I fear even my skills have limits."

"Your faith in me is overwhelming," Thristle muttered, though relief flickered across her face at the shift in conversation. Outside, Vesper's surface moved with what might have been curiosity as it rearranged the stones in its pit.

---

The inn's dining room was nearly empty when they came down for their meal, most travelers having departed with the morning light. Thristle attacked her plate with enthusiasm that matched Vesper's earlier consumption of the boar, making Seraphina's careful cutting of her own portion seem almost comically dainty in comparison.

"What?" Thristle asked around a mouthful of roasted meat, catching Seraphina's raised eyebrow. "I'm hungry. Nearly being eaten by boars works up an appetite."

"Disgusting," Seraphina muttered, though there was an odd fondness in her tone.

"One might think you and our companion share more than just a fondness for chaos," Seraphina observed dryly, watching as Thristle reached for a third helping of honeyed ham.

Outside the window, Vesper was contentedly absorbing food the kitchen staff had been instructed to provide, its surface rippling with obvious pleasure.

"At least I use a fork," Thristle protested, though she did slow her pace slightly. "Most of the time." She paused to drizzle more honey over her plate, earning another delicate wince from Seraphina. "What? Sweet things are good for you!"

"Irredeemable," Seraphina sighed, watching Thristle chase a bite of meat with a honey-drenched piece of bread. "Though I'm beginning to understand why you two get along so well."

Through the window, Vesper's surface movement looked suspiciously like agreement, small iridescent patterns dancing across its mass as it happily dissolved another chunk of meat.

"Could be worse," Thristle grinned, revealing those sharp teeth that suddenly seemed relevant to the conversation. "At least we're not eating the furniture."

"Small mercies," Seraphina muttered, delicately dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Though perhaps we should depart before you both decide to test that theory."