The tavern had been alive deep into the night, the air thick with the scent of spilled ale, woodsmoke, and the warm press of bodies revelling in the afterglow of survival. Laughter and raised glasses had filled the space, toasts made in Jason’s memory and to the bravery of both the rescuers and the rescued. For once, Jake had thrown open a barrel on the house, a grand gesture that saw many patrons staggering home on unsteady legs—while some never made it out at all, curling up in shadowed corners of the taproom to sleep off their indulgence.

  By the time Merl finally took his leave and the tavern had begun to quieten, Del turned to Elara. She met his gaze with a slow nod before rising, her movements carrying the lazy weight of drink. Without a word, she started up the stairs. Del lingered only long enough to bid goodnight to Jake before following, though his own steps lacked their usual sureness.

  The stairs swayed beneath his feet.

  ‘You are a total dufus, Del. Try one fewer drink next time.’

  His foot slipped against the worn wood, and his shin met the step with a sharp crack. He gritted his teeth, hissing through them.

  ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen when it’s a free bar.’

  By the time he reached the room, Elara was already sprawled across the bed, dead to the world. Her gentle, entirely unladylike snores were a testament to just how deeply the drink had taken hold. Del couldn’t help but smile as he nudged her, rolling her over just enough to claim his own space before sinking into sleep…

  Heat pressed against him. Too hot. Too tangled.

  He surfaced groggily, caught in a knot of limbs and blankets. Wrestling himself free, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot across the floor, the cool wooden planks a stark contrast to the heavy warmth left behind. The inn was still dark, its silence broken only by the occasional groan of settling beams and the distant chorus of snoring patrons below. He slipped down the corridor, dealing with the inevitable consequence of too much ale.

  As he made his way back, movement flickered at the edge of his vision—a shadow slipping past, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

  Elara.

  She moved with the stiff-legged urgency of someone whose morning priorities aligned precisely with his own.

  Del smirked. “Glad I'm not the only one waking early to empty out.”

  She shot him a bleary glare over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door.

  By the time she returned, he had already straightened the chaos of their bed, covers untangled, a pillow retrieved from where it had met the floor. He sat propped against the headboard, fingers idly tracing patterns against the sheets as his mind churned through a dozen thoughts—what needed doing, what still didn’t add up, and the nagging sense that he was missing something important.

  Elara barely hesitated. The towel was tossed aside, and with a shiver, she dove straight back into the warmth of the bed, curling against him without ceremony.

  Del tensed.

  ‘What is it with women that makes them think we’re their personal hot water bottles?’

  He shifted slightly, attempting to create some breathing room between his steadily warming body and the cool press of her bare skin.

  It didn’t work.

  Internally, he warred with himself.

  ‘I need to say something to her.’

  The thought made him wince.

  ‘Del, you are a coward and a fool.’

  ‘Don’t be so damned critical. I just don’t want to say something out of place.’

  ‘Fucking idiot. You have a naked girl curled up against you, and you don’t want to h—’

  “Are you talking to yourself again?”

  Her voice was thick with sleep, but amusement danced at the edges. She tilted her head just enough to peer up at him, her golden hair spilling against his chest.

  Del startled slightly. “What makes you say that?”

  “You always breathe a little funny when you do it. And sometimes you make these little grunts and things.” A sleepy smirk tugged at her lips. “I had an uncle who did the same thing all the time.”

  A mental groan echoed through Del’s skull.

  ‘See, fool? Now you’re just some mad old uncle figure.’

  “I guess I’ve been living alone too long,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face.

  Elara hummed in quiet agreement, shifting against him.

  “So what were you discussing this time?” she asked, voice light with curiosity.

  ‘Just fucking talk to her.’

  Del tried not to notice the way her fingers had started idly tracing patterns against his chest, the soft scrape of nails against skin sending unwelcome shivers along his spine.

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  ‘It might make her upset. What the fuck am I supposed to say?’

  He adjusted his position—subtly, carefully—hoping she wouldn’t notice the entirely predictable effect her presence was having.

  She did.

  And she was definitely smiling.

  ‘Just damn well talk to her!’

  Elara’s gaze lifted to his, concern flickering in her deep green eyes. “Have I done something wrong? Are you cross with me?”

  Del exhaled slowly, cursing himself. His hesitation, his silence—it was making her doubt herself, and that was the last thing he wanted. This wasn’t on her. It was his own damn issue.

  “No, not at all,” he assured her. “I’m just a bit cross with myself, is all.”

  The tension in her shoulders melted, her body relaxing once more against the mattress.

  ‘You, Del, are pathetic.’

  His jaw tightened slightly, but he pushed the self-reproach aside and forced himself to focus.

  “But can I ask you something?” His voice was cautious, careful. “Only if it won’t upset you.”

  Elara shifted, rolling onto her side, propping her head up on one arm so she could watch him properly. Her hair tumbled over one shoulder, stray golden strands catching the low light.

  “You can ask me anything, Del,” she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “And why would it upset me?”

  He took a slow breath, steadying himself. His heart was thudding—too fast, too uneven—and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why this conversation was making him feel like some awkward fool of a teenager, nervously working up the courage to ask a crush to a prom.

  “I’m new to Gondowa, as you know,” he began, keeping his voice level. “And you’re the first elf I’ve ever met, so I don’t really know the customs here.”

  She nodded solemnly, waiting for him to continue.

  “Is nudity… a thing among elves? Or just common on the mainland?” He hesitated. “It’s just… where I’m from, it’s only usual in more intimate circumstances.”

  For a moment, she looked puzzled. Then, with a soft, bell-like laugh, she shook her head.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about humans—I haven’t met many till now. But for elves…” She gave an elegant shrug. “It depends on circumstances.”

  She frowned slightly as though thinking it over, then suddenly tossed the covers aside.

  Del’s breath caught.

  “Why?” she asked, her humour now laced with the faintest hint of concern. “Does my body displease you?”

  He reacted instinctively, grabbing the sheets before they uncovered him completely and yanking them back enough to ensure he remained covered.

  “Not at all, Elara,” he said hurriedly. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and other areas, causing his words to stumble slightly as he tried to form them.

  “Look, I’ll be blunt,” he continued, his voice steadying. “I’m older than you. I’ve had my share of experiences, and in my life, when I’ve shared a bed with someone, it was seldom just for sleep.”

  He saw the slight flush creeping along Elara’s own cheeks now, the faintest touch of pink against her fair skin.

  “I find you very attractive,” he admitted. “But… I won’t take advantage of you being here with me… I just don’t know the rules.”

  Elara said nothing at first. She simply studied him, her expression unreadable.

  Del could practically feel the internal debate happening behind those sharp green eyes.

  ‘I bet she’s having her own indoor argument now,’ his inner voice remarked smugly.

  ‘Shut up, you damn twat.’

  She exhaled softly, gaze thoughtful. “With elves,” she said at last, “nudity is not abnormal. We dress—or don’t—depending on weather, company, and circumstance.”

  She glanced down at herself, entirely unconcerned by her own exposed skin.

  “However,” she continued, “it does also have sexual connotations in the right circumstances. This is normal. Natural.”

  Del took that in, nodding slowly.

  “So,” he asked quietly, feeling the nerves creeping back up his spine, “is your nudity and freedom one of circumstance and company… or one of a sexual nature?”

  Elara’s eyes flickered, her lips curving up slightly at the question.

  “Does my body make you feel uncomfortable?” she asked.

  Del considered this, genuinely giving it thought before answering.

  “No. Not in itself,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. But… I need to know in what manner I’m supposed to take it.”

  She studied him a moment longer, then lifted a single finger to her lips, eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

  Elara’s voice was steady, thoughtful. “When I first met you, my reaction was one of gratitude. You saved me—literally. If you hadn’t come when you did, I would have been dinner for those green bastards.”

  Del nodded but remained silent. It was her turn to speak, and she deserved his full attention.

  “As I travelled with you, I learned you were both wise and a fool,” she continued, her lips quirking slightly. “You know so much and yet so little at the same time. But in here”—she reached out, poking a finger against his chest— “you are a good and honest man.”

  She gave herself a small, decisive nod, as if confirming the thought aloud.

  “You’ve proven your values to me time and again,” she went on, her voice steady. “And yes, I do find that attractive. I am comfortable with you, so my body doesn’t need to be unnecessarily covered.” A teasing lilt entered her tone as a small, knowing laugh escaped her lips. “But I also get a bit of a thrill when I catch you sneaking a look.”

  Del stiffened slightly. “I don’t want to seem like a perv,” he said, half in defence, half in admission. “But you are pleasing to look at.”

  Elara tilted her head. “I’m not sure what a ‘perv’ is, but I am not ashamed for you to enjoy looking at me.” Amusement danced in her expression as she rolled onto her back, stretching languidly, the movement deliberate.

  Del let out a soft laugh. “Hey, not fair.”

  She turned back onto her side, the playfulness in her eyes shifting into something more contemplative.

  “As for… sexually,” she said, her tone growing more serious, “am I allowed to say, I don’t know?”

  Del remained quiet, letting her shape her thoughts in her own time.

  “In elves, although we reach physical maturity around eighteen or twenty, we are not considered adults until we reach forty,” she explained. “It is rare to engage in sexual activity before then—not unheard of, but rare.” She paused, her expression carefully neutral.

  “Also,” she continued after a moment, “communion between elves and other races is considered something of a taboo. Again, not unheard of, but it usually results in the elf being excluded from elven society. Shunned.”

  Del opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, she lifted a finger to his lips, silencing him with a gentle touch.

  “I find you attractive,” she said simply. “But to consider more… I need to be very sure of where I am within myself before that could become a possibility. Do you understand?”

  Her gaze was steady, unguarded.

  “I trust you,” she added. “And I know you respect me for who I am.”

  Del met her gaze without hesitation. “Of course I do,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

  Elara exhaled softly, a trace of uncertainty still lingering in her expression. “So… can we just carry on as we are and leave the future to look after itself?” she asked, her voice edged with a hint of nervousness.

  Rather than answering with words, Del reached over, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her back into their earlier embrace. She melted against him, her body fitting easily against his as he rested his chin lightly atop her head.

  “Let’s get a bit more sleep before we have to be up for breakfast,” he murmured.

  The faint glow of the lamp still cast flickering shadows across the walls. He reached over, turning the wick down until the room was swallowed in a comfortable, muffled darkness.

  Elara sighed contentedly, shifting slightly as she nestled into a more comfortable position, her breath warm against his skin. A moment later, she pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, the touch barely more than a whisper.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Del tightened his hold around her just slightly, the quiet weight of understanding settling between them.

  Neither of them needed to say anything more.

  As the warmth of sleep pulled them both under, the last thing Del registered was the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing against him—peaceful, unguarded, and entirely at ease.