“You,” his voice died and he cleared his throat, turning back to face her entirely, “you needn’t stay out there.”
El smiled, “Are you extending an invitation?”
“I,” he shifted from foot to foot, and though she couldn’t see it, she was certain Tyril was blushing, “that is, I don’t mean to,” he cleared his throat again, “I’m sure any of the others would be willing to share their quarters with you, if you ask.”
“Oh,”
“That’s not to say you’re unwelcome,” he added hurriedly.
Grinning, she got to her feet, carefully tucking her blanket around the still sleeping Threep before crossing the room to stand before him. He looked down at her, the firelight flickering across his face, reflecting in his dark eyes. From this close he looked almost younger, the sharp line of his jaw was relaxed, his eyes soft. She wanted to trace the long line of his neck, to drag her fingers across his now visible collarbone. She nodded to the still open door behind them, “Can I come in?”
El jumped as the windows behind her rattled again, another gust of wind twisting the ancient trees outside. They creaked and groaned, the eerie noise reverberating in the vaulted emptiness of the elven hunting lodge. She sat up, blanket falling from her shoulders as she looked towards the door, which shuddered beneath the gale. Gaps between the door and its frame whistled in the wind, and a rush of cold air sent the leaves they’d tracked in on their arrival skittering towards her across the dusty, cobbled floor.
Despite her exhaustion from tramping about the Deadwood all day, she couldn’t sleep. Her eyes, though heavy, refused to close entirely, watching the door suspiciously for any sign of movement. The rest of the party had retired to their respective rooms, and she felt their absence just as sharply as the blister forming on her heel. Initially, sleeping next to the fire with Threep had sounded pleasant, but now she was having second thoughts.
For one, the fire Nia had conjured had gone out an hour ago, and the wind outside had started to howl shortly after. Yet miraculously, Threep snored beside her, curled up tightly on her bedroll. She glowered at him before flopping down beside him, yanking her blanket back up.
“For gods’ sake,” she grumbled, rolling angrily onto her side and clapping a hand over her ear, “it’s just a bit of wind.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, curling in on herself and drawing her blanket up to her chin, waiting for sleep to come. She cracked open one eye, looking out at the bleak and empty hall. The darkness glared back.
She’d never slept completely alone before. She and Kade had shared a room her entire life, and for the past few weeks she’d always been within arms reach of her companions. In fact she’d often woken up with Mal curled up on one side, and Nia on the other, all of them unconsciously seeking each other’s warmth in the night. Imtura had fallen right in with them, all four of them a tangled mass of limbs in the morning, though Tyril still kept himself apart. For now at least. Strange how they’d all worked their way into her life so quickly. Each one of them had burrowed into her heart almost without her knowledge. she’d known them for less time than she’d known the entire town of Riverbend and yet now, laying only feet away from her friends, she missed them more than her entire town. The thought made her smile, despite the fatigue that was building towards a pounding headache at the base of her skull. What a strange, merry bunch they were.
Another blast of wind rattled the windows, and the door shuddered. El sat bolt upright, scrabbling for the gauntlet resting near her head. Her heart pounded as her eyes strained through the gloom, muscles tensed and ready to spring.
When no monsters materialized in the dark, she shook her head and tossed away the gauntlet of pain rather harder than she meant to. It clattered against the floor, the resultant clang echoing through the entrance hall just as loud as the wind roaring outside. She swore and whipped around as a square of light fell onto the uneven floorboards as a door down the hall swung open.
“I’m sorry!” She groaned, burying her face in her hands. She could feel her own cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, “I’m so sorry! Go back to—“
“El? What’s wrong?”
She looked up in surprise, and her eyes widened even further to see a rather disheveled Tyril standing in front of her, blade drawn and eyes wide. He was devoid of his usual armor, and his dark red tunic hung open and loose at the neck, yet he still looked ready to pounce, eyes flashing about the dark.
“N-nothing,” she stammered, dragging her eyes away from the neck of his shirt and the few inches of now visible, toned chest on display, “I’m sorry to wake you, Tyril, it’s nothing, I just dropped,” she motioned towards the now ridiculous looking spiked gauntlet laying innocently on the soot streaked floor. She ducked her head, hoping the dark would hide the blush on her cheeks. “I uh,” she cleared her throat, “I thought I heard something.”
Outside, the wind howled, and the chimney above her shrieked. She tensed again, fingers clenching into her blanket. There was a soft murmur, a lilting language completely foreign to her, and a low flame flickered to life in the hearth. She looked up at Tyril, the firelight casting his already elegant features into even sharper relief. She looked back at the fire now crackling merrily in the hearth, then back to him with raised eyebrows.
“Didn’t you just tell Nia not to waste her light?”
“The cost of magic is much less dear for an Elf,” he said stiffly, and she smiled, drawing her hands up to her shoulders as the flames warmed her back.
“Well, thanks all the same,”
His razor sharp gaze softened, and said, voice low, “The old magic still holds on this place. It will be safe, I promise.”
“Right,” she let out a deep breath and let her hand rest on Threep’s still sleeping form, shaking her head as he let out a gentle snore, “even so, wish I could sleep as easy as him.”
Tyril eyed the slumbering nesper with a raised eyebrow, “He does have a certain knack for it.”
She stifled her laugh behind her hand, looking up at him with a smile, “Thanks for checking on me, and for the fire. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”
“Right,” Tyril nodded and turned back towards the hall leading to his still open door. He paused in the doorway, drumming his fist on the door jam before he looked back at her. It was difficult to make out his face, even with the flickering light dancing on the walls, but something about his stance seemed suddenly... uncertain.
“You,” his voice died and he cleared his throat, turning back to face her entirely, “you needn’t stay out there.”
El smiled, “Are you extending an invitation?”
“I,” he shifted from foot to foot, and though she couldn’t see it, she was certain he was blushing, “that is, I don’t mean to,” he cleared his throat again, “I’m sure any of the others would be willing to share their quarters with you, if you ask.”
“Oh,”
“That’s not to say you’re unwelcome,” he added hurriedly.
Grinning, she got to her feet, carefully tucking her blanket around the still sleeping Threep before crossing the room to stand before him. He looked down at her, the firelight flickering across his face, reflecting in his dark eyes. From this close he looked almost younger, the sharp line of his jaw was relaxed, his eyes soft. She wanted to trace the long line of his neck, to drag her fingers across his now visible collarbone. She nodded to the still open door behind them, “Can I come in?”
Something like relief flashed across his face before he stepped back, holding the door open for the two of them, “Of course.”
“Nice place you’ve got here,” she said, sweeping her gaze across the dingy room. Though she’d meant it in jest, and despite the dust heavy in the air, the grandeur of the place was evident. The four poster bed was larger than the dinghy she and Mal had taken to the hidden cove, and was hung with now rich (and dust) brocade. The exposed beams in the walls and ceilings were ornately carved with trees and other greenery and all of the furniture still stood strong, made of rich, dark wood. The wind howling outside was a distant memory in here. In fact, the entire Deadwood and the world beyond it felt like a memory. Or maybe she was standing in a memory now. She walked over to a wash table on the other side of the room, footsteps muffled by a heavy rug beneath her feet, and wiped the dust off the tarnished mirror hung above it.
“You know,” she said, looking down at the thick film of dust clinging to her fingers, “I forget sometimes how old Morella really is. It’s so strange to think I’m standing in a building from an entirely different age,” she looked up at the ceiling, where a cracked fresco depicted a lush forest with leaping stags, gambling fawns, and a band of elves running alongside them, “it feels even more distant than that. I feel like I’m in an entirely different world.”
“From what I understand, it was a different world,” said Tyril, looking up as well, “magic permeated the very air, and we thrived in it,” he reached up, as if to brush his hand across the ceiling, and murmured something beneath his breath. A faint silvery glow outlined the fresco above them, and El gasped as the deer shuddered, shaking themselves as if they’d just emerged from a river, and leapt free of the ceiling.
They cantered silently across the air, leaving a trail of silver stardust behind them, and Tyril smiled as El reached out and touched one of the fawns galloping past her. It reared back, an explosion of golden sparks flying from its hooves.
“The old magic wove itself into everything we did,” he said, watching as the deer cantered past him and ran to circle El. She spun on the spot to keep her eyes on them, laughing as the largest stag walked across her outstreatched palm. It brushed against her hand as delicately as a butterfly, warming her skin wherever it touched.
“You mean everything the elves did,” she said with a grin, looking up from the glowing deer to him, “Threep never grows tired of telling me that we humans were basically jumping around bonfires and waving pointy sticks during the Great War.”
“Yes well,” Tyril looked down at his hand, curling his fingers over his palm. the stag on her hand faded, then disappeared in another wink of light, “at least your people aren’t responsible for the destruction of their entire civilization. Their mistakes are the reason we have to go on this impossible venture in the first place.”
“But if it weren’t for this crazy venture,” she said, sitting down on the bed in front of him and nudging him with her knee, “you never would have met us, and what a tragedy that would have been.”
He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised in clear disbelief. His eyelashes were so long they cast a spidery shadow across his cheek.
“I think you’re the only member of our party who thinks that. The others barely tolerate me.”
El frowned, “That’s not true at all,”
Tyril raised an eyebrow and she patted the spot next to her on the bed. He eyed the space almost nervously before sitting down a careful distance from her. He was so tense the mattress didn’t even give beneath his weight.
“The others like to tease,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t respect you. We all know you’re an incredible asset to the team, and besides that,” she reached out and touched his hand, which rested on the bed between them, “you’re a good friend, Tyril.”
He looked up from where her hand covered his, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he glanced away, his face flushing. Yet his hand remained beneath hers, solid and warm.
“It’s,” he swallowed hard, his jaw working silently as he stared at the fire flickering low in the grate, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could call a friend.”
“Well, now you’ve got four,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “five if you count Threep, which I’m sure he would insist that you do. So how’s that for progress?”
Tyril looked back at her and smiled, two faint dimples flashing in his cheeks. El grinned back, giving his hand another squeeze.
“You really are a marvel, Elaine of Riverbend,” He said, his low voice barely audible over the crackling of the fireplace.
She raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who just made the decor prance around the room.”
“I’m serious,”
Her breath caught in her throat as he slowly turned his hand over, still beneath her own, and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He didn’t look up from their now intertwined fingers, but she could see a delicate violet flush rising in his cheeks.
“I’ve been on my own for so long,” he murmured, his thumb ghosting over her wrist, “and even before I started this quest, back in Undermount, it was nearly impossible to find someone who I could trust,” he paused, his hand stilling on hers. He looked up at her, the barely flickering flames dancing in his eyes, shadows curving along his cheekbones and under his lips. Her heart pattered unevenly in her chest, but she held his gaze, and his hand tightened on hers.
“I’m very glad to have met you, El,” he said softly.
“I’m glad I met you too,”
The fire was nearly out, just a dim red glow in the grate, and she couldn’t recall how she and Tyril had become so close, shoulders brushing, hands still clasped together. She could barely see him, just a dark shape on an even darker background, and she reached up with her free hand, sucking in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed his chin.
“Tyril?” she breathed, his name a question on her lips.
“Elaine,” he responded. She’d never heard her full name spoken like that before. Not in reprimand, or annoyance, but something akin to reverence.Her fingers brushed along his lower lip, across his high cheekbone and he leaned into her touch.
Their lips brushed so softly at first, it could have been an accident. The same feeling as his magic made visible, brushing across her hand, and she shivered as his other hand moved to her neck, cradling her head. He pulled her closer, swallowing up her gasp of surprise as his hand slid down from her neck and pressed against her back, drawing her in. Behind her closed eyes, she could still see the silver glow from his magic and she shivered as his fingers traced up her spine, a shower of stars dancing across her skin.
She pulled back, hands gripped into the fine silk of his tunic, breath coming in short gasps,
“I-I’m sorry,” she said, “I-I didn’t mean,”
“Elaine,”
His voice was soft, almost pleading, brushing against her cheek just as softly as his hands ghosting across her arm.
“Yes?”
“May I kiss you again?”
“Gods yes,”
The words were barely past her lips when Tyril slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. His lips moved fervently against hers, his tongue brushing her lower lip and she let out a soft sigh as his thumb caressed her cheek. She hitched her leg over his and he pulled her onto his lap, hands gripping her hips tight. She arched her back, closing any semblance of a gap they had between them as she clutched his shoulders, afraid that if she loosened her grip, this would all disappear, that he would dissolve into a shower of silver stardust beneath her hands. He kissed his way across her jaw, and she tipped her head back with a groan as his lips traced her neck. Everywhere he touched burned, heat searing through her veins.
All at once, his touch softened, becoming feather light. Their kisses slowed, each movement more deliberate and controlled, not the storm that it had been before, until they gradually stopped all together. For a moment they were still, foreheads still touching, hearts thudding in tandem as they both caught their breath.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice just above a whisper, “ever since I first laid eyes on you.”
“You mean the first time when I yelled at you for bumping into me?” She asked with a devious grin, still breathless, “Or the second time when you decapitated a man right in front of me.”
His already flushed cheeks darkened, “I admit it wasn’t the best of first impressions,” he said, his hands skimming her sides. She bit her lip as his hands settled on her hips, his thumb tracing a pattern on her skin.
“It’s alright,” she said with a smile, “I think you’ve more than made up for it.”
“That’s very reassuring to hear,” he reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear, letting his hand linger there as his eyes swept over her face, “thank you, El.”
“For what, kissing you? I think I should be thanking you.”
He smiled again and she barely repressed the urge to kiss him again. She settled for brushing her fingers over one of his dimples, smiling when his eyes fluttered shut. He placed his hand over hers, trapping it against his cheek, slowly drawing it forward to press his lips against her wrist.
“You shine as bright as any star,” he murmured, looking up at her, “it’s what I first noticed about you, back in Parnassus. I’m sorry if I haven’t done a better job of showing you that until now.”
“Oh,” she bit her lip as her voice came out almost in a squeak, and instantly she felt heat rise in her neck and cheeks.
“If that was too forward, I apologize, I only meant—“
“No!” She said quickly, placing a hand against his chest, “No it wasn’t, I just,” even the tips of her ears felt hot, “no one has ever said anything like that to me before,” she looked around the room, then back at him, “I’m just having trouble believing this isn’t all a dream, like any moment I’m going to wake up back in my old rooms in Riverbend.”
“Well, if this is a dream,” he said with a soft smile, “I can’t recall the last time I had such a beautiful one, but perhaps we’d better retire now. I’m fairly certain you’ll wake up here.”
“Well that’s a relief,” she said with a smile, clambering off him and flopping back onto the mattress. Tyril shook his head, a smile twisting his lips as he laid next to her, dragging the blanket up over them both. She rested her cheek against his chest, and he curled his arm around her, pulling her closer. She settled against him, his warmth washing over her and she sighed, tucking her chin close to her chest.
“Do you think Threep has noticed your absence yet?” He asked, looking down at her. Her eyes were already shut, her breathing even and deep. Tyril smiled, laying his head back against the pillow, “Sleep well,” he murmured, curling his arm tight around her.
He couldn’t remember the last time sleep had come so easily.
Mal × Tyril makes me alive(is there any ship name for them???), at this point it's my main reason reading BOLAS. 😩😩😩 my second fave ship is my male elf MC x Imtura. I already had their sketch, doing a sexy sexy moment.
Also Mal × Tyril shipper out there, what's your preference?
I absolutely love both dom!Mal or dom!Tyril equally but I'm just curious how other shipper sees them in... particular position. 🤭🤭🤭
Coming to think of it, Blades of Light & Shadows might be my top 2nd most favorite book produced by Pixelberry! 😆💗 Where do you rank BOLAS on your list of favorite books from Pixelberry? 😀
I was fine with @playchoices making trm and moty and even nightbound standalones but it would be really pointless to make bolas a standalone? Every character and the whole world they've created has too much detail and planning and undiscovered plots for it to be finished in one book, especially considering how popular it is with readers because this is probably the best book we've gotten since Nightbound/Open Heart. I really don't wanna lose these characters after just one book.
