The first thing that Priscilla registered as she came back to her senses that her shoulder really fucking hurt.

  She groaned as she opened her eyes, squinting at her surroundings. Priscilla was on a bed and it was quite soft, nice and cozy under the fluffy covers. The ceiling had a colorful mural of a sunrise, the bright yellow and oranges of sunlight stretching across the space. Carefully, Priscilla pushed herself up with her right arm to get a better view.

  And then Priscilla promptly stopped taking in the sights around her when she saw Sulaiman sitting in a chair next to her bed, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowing at her.

  They proceeded to have an awkward staring contest as Priscilla opened her mouth and closed it a few times, unsure what to say and Sulaiman’s glower growing steadily deeper.

  The silence was broken by someone entering.

  “Oh good, you’re awake!” the half-elf woman said, eyes crinkling with delight as she approached Priscilla’s bedside, taking Priscilla’s right hand gingerly in her hand. “I wanted to make sure I was the first to thank you for what you did last night – Gaelea will not forget the hero who protected her flock.”

  Priscilla felt her face go hot from the sincere words and looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. Priscilla had never been good with receiving praise from people who weren’t Mr. —, especially not over things that actually mattered.

  “Anyone could have done what I did,” Priscilla murmured.

  Sulaiman snorted derisively and Priscilla glared at him. He raised an arched brow in response, clearly thinking she was spouting bullshit.

  “Even if anyone could have done the same,” the woman said firmly, “you were the one who was here and you were the one who chose to protect us.”

  Priscilla opened her mouth to protest and then shut it when she saw the resolute look in the woman’s eyes. It was just strange trying to reconcile the concept of a hero with herself. Priscilla didn’t feel very heroic last night – it had all been a frantic fight for survival where a single misstep could have ended with her death.

  “It appears I’ve gotten ahead of myself,” the woman said. “My name is Jeroinin.”

  “I’m Priscilla,” she said, latching onto the new topic to leave this hero business behind her, “Priscilla Sunscarre.”

  Jeroinin’s eyebrow twitched upwards and Priscilla wondered if her new last name really was that unusual.

  “Well, it is very nice to meet you Priscilla,” Jeroinin said, a smile gracing her face. Jeroinin had the type of face made for smiling, round cheeks with prominent dimples, and Priscilla thought that Jeroinin was beautiful. Maybe not in a classical, striking way elves were, but a more subtle beauty, like a field of golden wheat swaying gently in the breeze.

  “It’s very nice to meet you too, Miss Jeroinin,” Priscilla said, the sign of respect slipping out of her without thought.

  Jeroinin laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been called a miss. Oh, Priscilla, you simply are a dear. Tell me, is there anything you want? If it is within my power, I will see it given to you by the day’s end. It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

  Priscilla’s mind floundered for a second. Her original plan had been very basic and she hadn’t thought too hard about what would happen after she actually saved the village, and especially didn’t imagine getting any sort of rewards out of this. The villagers being alive was a great reward already, but Jeroinin’s insistent, smiling gaze told Priscilla she better come up with something fast.

  Priscilla glanced at Sulaiman to see if maybe he had something in mind but Sulaiman was supremely unhelpful, looking like he was enjoying seeing Priscilla flounder.

  “Letting me and Sulaiman rest for a few days would be great,” Priscilla said tentatively.

  “That was a given, Priscilla,” Jeroinin laughed, her insistent gaze not moving an inch.

  Priscilla’s brain cells were clearly taking a vacation because the only thing that came to her mind was to ask for Kavil as her prize.

  But the thought of Kavil stirred up other memories, of a scene of Kavil from TDE.

  Kavil had been quietly sitting at the end of the table the party had commandeered in the tavern. The others were all mostly laughing and enjoying themselves as they had successfully slain the scythe tiger, but Illnyea had noticed Kavil seemed more withdrawn than usual. He picked at the dessert the tavern keeper had given them all free samples of, turning the rice porridge over again and again with his spoon.

  “You alright, Kavil?” Illnyea asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

  Kavil smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I’m fine,” Kavil said and Illnyea didn’t believe it for a second.

  “You’re turning it into mush,” Illnyea said, pointedly looking at the bowl. “You know Sulaiman would eat that if you don’t like it, you don’t have to force yourself to eat it.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just…” Kavil’s voice trailed off, something dark and sad entering his gaze as he looked at the bowl.

  “It just reminded me of home,” Kavil said, voice just barely audible above the din. “We used to eat something like this together on festival days. Yarnon would cook the rice in his huge pot in the center of the village so there’d be enough for everyone to eat, and then Marian would bring the milk and Holly the sugar to make the base and J–...”

  Kavil looked pained as he cut himself off, gripping his spoon tighter.

  “My aunt would bring the cinnamon,” he continued in a small voice that shrank with every word, “and then we all picked our favorite berries to add and eat it together.”

  Illnyea didn’t know what to say in the face of his grief, didn’t know how she could make him feel better. But she knew she had to try because Kavil was her friend and she couldn’t just let him suffer alone.

  “I can ask the kitchen for fruit if you’d like,” Illnyea said hesitantly. “It won’t be the same but… maybe it can get a little closer to the taste you’re yearning for.

  Kavil blinked and then refocused his gaze on her. He just looked at Illnyea and then back at the porridge.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’ll take the fruit,” Kavil said quietly, his face not quite happy but farther from the despair and grief that clung to him like cobwebs, “and you can give this to Sulaiman, I’ve barely touched it.”

  Priscilla blinked a few times, shaking her brain free from the scene she recalled with more clarity than she expected, and then realized she had just been blankly staring at Jeroinin without saying a single word.

  “Do you have any sort of tasty dessert?” Priscilla asked quickly, hoping to move past her zoning out. “I’ll never turn down something sweet.”

  Jeroinin’s eyes flickered over Priscilla’s face before the woman inclined her head.

  “The one I’m thinking of will take a while to cook,” Jeroinin said, stepping back, “so I should let everyone know of your request so we can make sure we have everything.”

  “I look forward to eating it,” Priscilla said. Jeroinin laughed and then she was gone.

  Priscilla stared at the closed door for a moment before turning to Sulaiman, who had been watching them silently the whole time. He didn’t look excited about the prospect of having a dessert later and he was just staring at Priscilla with a heavy gaze.

  “Did you get hurt badly last night?” Priscilla asked, looking at his forehead where she recalled blood was pouring out of last night. She didn’t see any sort of wound, which was good.

  Sulaiman leaned forward, his frown thunderous.

  “Am I hurt?” Sulaiman hissed. “I wasn’t the one who, when faced with several swordsmen charging at me, decided to take them head on despite being completely unarmed and having broken ribs! I wasn’t the one who passed out immediately after the battle because my wounds were so severe! You – You are insufferably stupid!”

  Priscilla’s mouth dropped open as Sulaiman’s voice became more biting and bitter the more he ranted. She was on the receiving end of one of Sulaiman’s mother hen rants, something she had only read about before.

  And that meant… that Sulaiman actually cared about Priscilla, at least a little and that made something soft bloom in Priscilla’s chest even as Sulaiman glared at her with the power of a thousand suns.

  “Yeah, facing the bandits like that was pretty dumb of me,” Priscilla admitted easily, “but in my defense, I don’t think I could have outrun them. I could barely stand upright. Plus–” Priscilla shot Sulaiman a smile. “–I knew you were there to watch my back.”

  Sulaiman opened his mouth to retort, and then he shut it. He almost seemed angry that Priscilla had agreed with him and didn’t know how to get back to ranting at her. It was honestly kind of adorable, but Priscilla still wanted her question answered.

  “Did you get hurt?”

  Sulaiman sighed, crossing his arms. “I had a few minor scrapes and took an arrow to the thigh, but it’s been bandaged up and will be dealt with later when the healer Kavil recovers more of his magic.”

  Priscilla perked up at the mention of Kavil. She had barely spoken with him yesterday but it sounded like he had been busy with all the injuries.

  “I remember a healer who helped me get rid of a curse,” Priscilla said, “any–”

  “A curse?” Sulaiman said, eye twitching.

  Priscilla winced at his tone, and then winced again as the movement pulled at her shoulder.

  “I got hit by the probably enchanted crossbow that the Azurin guy was using,” Priscilla said, trying for a light, uncaring tone. “My best guess is that it was a curse to amplify pain or something like that. It took me down almost instantly, but Kavil dragged me out of harm’s way and healed me right up.”

  Sulaiman stared at Priscilla and then looked up at the ceiling and sighed, pressing his thumb and forefinger between his brows as if talking with Priscilla made his head hurt.

  Priscilla studied his posture and body while he was looking away, trying to see if he was hiding any other injuries. He didn’t move like he was hurt, but while Sulaiman made sure everyone else was taken care of, Priscilla knew he wouldn’t prioritize his own health. It was equal parts noble and frustrating.

  “You sure you’re alright?” Priscilla asked.

  “I am,” Sulaiman said firmly, glaring at her.

  Priscilla raised one hand in mock surrender. “Alright, I won’t ask again, it’s just… well, when your little flame sphere disappeared during the fight, I got really worried there.”

  Sulaiman’s eyes narrowed before he looked away.

  “That probably happened when I got hit with the arrow,” Sulaiman said, “and I lost my connection with it briefly.”

  Then Sulaiman abruptly stood.

  “The bandits that survived the night are in a holding cell,” Sulaiman said, turning away, “and I need to check on them.”

  “Wait, I’ll come too,” Priscilla said, trying to wiggle out of the bed.

  Sulaiman let out an exasperated noise, looking back at her. “Idiots with no sense of self-preservation need to stay in bed.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you,” Priscilla said, her stubbornness raising its head as Sulaiman tried to boss her around, “and besides, my legs work perfectly fine!”

  The two of them just glared at each other for a long moment before Sulaiman sighed, murmuring, “Of all the ways you had to resemble her – fine! Get ready and you can tag along but you will take it easy – or else.”

  With that Sulaiman limped towards the door and shut the door firmly behind him.

  Priscilla rolled her eyes at his threat. The worst Sulaiman would do was trap her in bed and glare at Priscilla to make sure she didn’t do anything.

  “MASTER!”

  Priscilla jumped and then searched for Asha, just now realizing that the artifact wasn’t on her person.

  “I was so worried about you, you were sleeping for so long,” Asha sobbed, flooding their bond with worry and fear. Priscilla finally spotted Asha resting in a glove form on a side table and scooped Asha up, sliding the artifact on.

  “I’m sorry,” Priscilla murmured, “I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

  “I knew you were alive,” Asha said, the glove squeezing tightly around Priscilla, “but you wouldn’t wake up and they took me off you and I couldn’t talk to anyone and –”

  “Shh,” Priscilla whispered, rubbing a finger over Asha. “No need to get yourself so worked up. I’m alive, and you know what?”

  “What?” sniffled Asha after a beat, the artifact’s voice subdued.

  “You saved me last night, when the man had me pinned,” Priscilla said, smiling as she recalled the bandit’s shocked face. “You fucked up his hand when you changed your form and that threw him off long enough for Sulaiman to deal with him.”

  Asha was quiet for a moment longer, emotions a tangled swirl.

  “The lunatic was no match for a mighty legend killer like myself,” Asha said, sounding quite pleased with itself, “nor was his little boss man.”

  “Damn right he wasn’t,” Priscilla said. “We fucked Azurin up real good. He was a bloody mess when we were done with him.”

  There was a burst of sudden pride flushed in their bond, before Asha began to laugh maniacally. “All shall fear my power! I punch every lunatic who stands before me! They shall rue the day they cross paths with the mighty Asha, Destroyer of Dicks!”

  Priscilla snorted, and then began laughing too because of the absurdity of her magical artifact gloating about punching a guy’s dick off.