Tales of Fire and Ruin - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

The creaky stairway and the rot on the wooden ceiling beams inspired little confidence for the state of our room. I didn't worry the walls would collapse on us—I had seen far worse in the Montbow stables—but our stay likely wasn't worth the expensive gemstone I'd paid for it.
After turning the key in the rusty lock, however, I was pleasantly surprised by a warm, cosy bedroom with a set of candles flickering on the nightstand, an armchair in the corner, and one bed. Which wasn't that large at all, like Sully had implied.
"At least the sheets aren't rotting like the beams," I muttered.
While I lingered in the doorway, Oleander slipped past me and plopped down on the sheets without hesitation. Leaning down, he carefully hid the queen's staff underneath the bed. Then he pulled his shirt off. He unceremoniously discarded it on the floor as I hastily stepped into the room and closed the door behind me.
Oleander inspected the wound on his shoulder with a grimace.
I took a hesitant step towards the bed. "It's a little late now, but we still best get that wrapped up," I said.
Oleander hummed in agreement. He pulled his hat off his head and lowered himself to a flat position on the bed with gritted teeth. Flying for days had clearly taken a toll on him, and he shouldn't have with his shoulder in this state. I didn't know exactly how shapeshifting worked, but it seemed to me like the flapping of wings would stop an arrow wound from healing properly.
I took another step towards the bed, taking in Oleander's tired expression. His face looked especially gaunt in the candlelight. "You need to rest," I said. "And you would better be able to do that alone in a room with no disturbances from someone beside you."
"You do snore terribly," Oleander teased me. "But no. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
"Because you need me alive to touch the gem and free your people."
"Indeed," Oleander replied lightly. "And to clean my wound and to feed me."
I crossed my arms. "You can do those things yourself."
"But I'm weakened from the long journey, and I'm injured."
"Sure, and you wouldn't even let me help you walk here. You can't go back to your helpless elf with memory loss act on a whim."
Oleander arched a brow. "You're right that I don't need help. That doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy being taken care of and perhaps massaged by an attractive lordling inside a secluded room with one bed."
The look Oleander gave me would have sent shivers down my spine and straight to my groin before Wildewall's dungeons. Oleander had taken his cruel words back, but him teasing me was rubbing salt into my still-healing wound. I was attracted to him and I couldn't help that. It was clear Oleander knew he still had a power over me and he made a mockery of it.
"I do not enjoy you blowing hot and cold, Oleander," I said.
Oleander studied my face carefully before opening his mouth. "Only hot, then?" he asked.
I shook my head. "You still think me a complete fool, don't you? A simpleton who forgets what happened yesterday with a wink and the promise of being allowed to touch you."
With a groan, Oleander propped himself up on his elbows. "No," he replied. "I see you as an equally vexing as charmingly naïve human who took in a human-hunter who only wished to use him. And you made him change his mind about seeking out the wither-touched, killing all the knights, and burning Wildewall to the ground, because there are good humans, after all."
"I..." I faltered and frowned. "That's not reassuring at all, Oleander."
"It's not, is it?" Oleander pursed his lips in thought. "How about I could truly use your help to clean the wounds? Moving hurts and I can't see my own back."
As I stayed silent, Oleander added, "Please."
"Fine," I gave in. "But you can eat on your own. And there will be no massages."
"You drive a hard bargain, lord Montbow." Oleander smiled and flipped himself on the bed so his back was facing up. "Is it bad?" he asked.
I hesitated. I had agreed to look at Oleander's wounds, yet somehow it felt like he'd tricked me into coming too close and sitting beside him. When he was a dragon and I slept under his wing, it was different. But I'd already promised my help.
The inn bed creaked as I lowered myself onto the mattress and leaned in to examine the angry red scratches and cuts. The wound on his shoulder where the arrow had struck was clearly the worst. All the others on Oleander's back would heal up nicely on their own. As I investigated Oleander's skin, I suddenly noticed strange markings on his upper back. Barely visible reddish threads, thin and near-transparent like a spider's web, shaped like the leaves of a pine tree.
I recognised the patterns well. They mirrored the markings on my chest, and the markings I left on people I struck with my thunder. Gingerly, I touched the red threads and felt bumps underneath my fingertip.
Oleander darted a glance over his shoulder. "I was fortunate you hit me in the wing," he said. "The wings retract into my flesh when I shift back to my elven form, so the wound was mostly internal. If it had not been, you might've noticed the scars left by thunder and drawn the conclusion I was the dragon."
"I'm not sure I would have," I admitted. "My mind was rather scrambled from fighting a full-sized dragon and then finding an elf, of all possible things, in the valley. It was a rather eventful day."
"It was indeed," Oleander agreed. "But I am grateful it was you and not another aspiring knight finding me vulnerable and naked in the valley."
I scoffed. "Oh, please. You would have been just fine. You would have stolen their weapon and put the blade between their ribs before they saw it coming."
"Possibly. But I was taught to always try to catch the humans off-guard first. We learned you are naturally inclined to think of us elves as pretty. It's always easier to escape the human kingdom if there is a human helping you out of a misplaced sense of infatuation. The stabbing part can always happen after if that plan doesn't work out."
I stared at Oleander dumbfounded, and shook my head. "You really did have it all planned out from the beginning, huh?"
"I did," Oleander said. "Except you were the one catching me off-guard in the end."
My jaw clenched. "Yes. Certainly," I said. "Anyway, the wounds on your back aren't deep. They will heal on their own, given time."
I turned away and tried to stand, but Oleander didn't allow it.
The sheets rustled as Oleander turned and grabbed my arm to stop me from moving away from the bed. I froze in place, startled by Oleander's sudden hold on my arm. He reached up with his other hand, tracing my jaw with cold fingers before gently turning my face, so I looked at him.
"It wasn't personal in the mountains, Laurence," he mumbled. "Any human man or woman could have found me in the valley and I would have done the same to them. I didn't know you then like I do now. And..." Oleander struggled to form words for a moment and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Never make me repeat this, but I am sorry that you were the one I deceived."
I snorted. "I don't know. Perhaps I should make you repeat that in front of your elven friends after we rescue them."
"Apologising to a human in front of them? How cruel, they would make fun of me forever," Oleander protested, though he didn't seem particularly worried about that fate. He smirked as his fingers traveled up from my jaw to tangle in my hair.
No matter what had happened between us, Oleander's eyes still mesmerised me. And as he started leaning in, I did too. I forgot about the dungeons, the square, and the evil artefact hidden below the bed. I even forgot where we were for a moment until there was a loud knock on the door and immediately after, it swung open.
In a flash, Oleander dove and buried his head beneath my shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric to pull it over his ears entirely. I felt him breathe across my stomach.
Sully appeared in the doorway, holding a bucket of water in one hand, and some cloth and an ointment jar in the other. "Oh, my apologies gentlemen!" he exclaimed with an exaggerated gasp.
My ears grew hot. "Ever heard of waiting after you knock?" I snapped.
"I apologise again, sir," Sully said with sparkling eyes. "Don't mind me. I didn't realise you would be so, uh... eager. I will just leave this here. Please, do come downstairs whenever you're ready to eat. We're serving venison steak tonight and I cannot recommend it enough."
Taking his sweet time, Sully placed the bucket on the floor next to the bed, and the ointment jar and cloth on the nightstand. He gave me an exaggerated wink before he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Oleander emerged from below my shirt, and I immediately scooted away from him.
"Great." I groaned, burying my head in my hands. "At least we won't have to worry about him coming inside again since he's convinced we're 'busy.'"
Oleander's mouth twitched. "He may think we're too busy too, ah, come inside, but I'm not going to take that chance. I have clearly gotten too careless and used to my hair covering my ears. Could you..." Oleander gestured at a wooden chest situated beside the bed, then at the door.
"Right, of course." I hastily walked over to the chest and pushed it across the floor with a loud scraping noise until it blocked the entrance.
"And now that you're done barricading," Oleander said, "Could you clean my wound?" He nodded at the bucket and cloth and sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, still trying to regain my composure after we nearly kissed and Sully barged into the room. I sat on the bed, carefully avoiding eye-contact with Oleander. Still, I noticed from the corner of my eye how he followed my every movement as I dipped the cloth in the lukewarm water and wrung it out. Despite being as careful as I could while dabbing the wound on Oleander's shoulder, he tensed every now and them. I paused every time Oleander showed discomfort, but eventually I managed to wipe off most of the old blood. Once the wound was clean enough, I grabbed the ointment jar and slathered the salve on it generously.
"You have to do something about your hair too before we leave in the morning," I muttered, still carefully avoiding looking at Oleander's mesmerising eyes. "You wouldn't want to face your elven friends looking like a convict, would you?"
Oleander touched a strand of his unevenly cut hair. "On the contrary, Laurence. They would expect me to be a wanted criminal in the human lands. I'd disappoint them if I wasn't."
I looked up at Oleander in surprise.
Oleander quirked an amused eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're surprised I have a certain reputation among my people."
I stared at Oleander. When he didn't declare he was only joking after a brief silence, I shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. What is your reputation among your people, anyway? Who are you among the elves, aside from a hunter?"
"Among the elves, I'm Rhadoron," Oleander replied.
"I don't know what that means."
"My name."
I frowned. "Your name is not Oleander?"
"It is. That is my name translated to your language."
"What?"
Oleander chuckled. "You never wondered why my parents named me in the tongue of humans rather than elven? We translate our names for you to ensure you understand its meaning. It's important."
"The meaning of Oleander is important?" I asked, not understanding where Oleander was going with this. "It's simply a flower."
"An extremely poisonous flower which can kill an adult," Oleander corrected me. "Just touching it is enough to fall ill."
I gaped at Oleander. "That is your reputation?"
Oleander winked. "They would be very concerned indeed about an inexperienced human lordling being in bed with me. For your sake. But I've been tame with you."
I thought back to the night we spent together at Prince Malte's Honour, and the way Oleander had taken charge and the wonderful rolling of his hips. My cheeks burned. "That was tame?"
"Yes. I hope you're not offended by that. I simply wished to not frighten or overwhelm you," Oleander said. "If I was not tame, I would have suggested to ride another part of you." He brushed my bottom lip with his thumb in a way that made me shiver.
"You wish to ride my..." I stammered before trailing off because I couldn't get the word past my lips without choking on embarrassment.
"Face," Oleander finished for me with an innocent smile. "Is that so hard to say, lord Montbow?"
Oleander leaned closer to me with sparkling eyes. I smiled weakly. "I see why the elves say you're dangerous."
"Good, because riding would only be the beginning," Oleander said. He seemed to sense my anxiousness and ambivalence, however, and didn't push further. "But tonight I would be happy with you only sharing your warmth. I'm cold."
"Your hands were freezing indeed," I admitted. His skin had also felt cooler than it should have when I'd touched him.
At first, I thought about only covering Oleander with the blanket and keeping my distance while we slept for the time being. But as Oleander settled himself on the bed, the sight of his eyes already drooping closed despite not even eating yet tugged at my heart-strings. Despite all his big talk, he looked in rough shape.
I knew Oleander was a hunter who had killed and could literally change into a dragon. He didn't need my protection, but I still felt protective of him. I wanted him close, even if I knew better and wasn't sure being close was a good idea. With a sigh, I removed my thick outdoor clothes and laid down beside him. Oleander nestled himself in my arms wordlessly and without opening his eyes. Oleander was asleep on my chest before I could pull the blankets up to cover us both. His breathing was slow and steady, and I had to abandon all thought of getting up for some food or a bath myself.
I couldn't disturb Oleander's sleep, and whenever I tried to move, Oleander's grip on me tightened. He had the kind of fishhook fingers that would allow him to scale walls and I accepted I wasn't going to escape. So I gave in, stayed, and closed my eyes as well after blowing out the candle.