Chapter Three

“Alright. I’ll be around if you change your mind. My name is Damion.” His smile was reassuring, and she wondered if the small bow he gave hinted that he had an idea of who she was, or if he was just being polite? Lowering himself to the cobblestones, he leaned against the side of the fountain, pulled a leather-bound book from his satchel and settled into reading. His long legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles. Though he looked relaxed, his posture remained straight and tall.

Volencia watched him, wondering what he was waiting for. She tried to focus on what she would say to the Council when they came to the city, but her mind kept wandering back to him. He wasn’t dressed like anyone else. His clothes were fresh and clean, even looked well-made and relatively new. His collar and cuffs were lined with fur, which was generally expensive, but the material of his shirt looked like it may have been hand woven, which was unusual. His tunic was not full, or button down, as was normal fashion, but a wrapped tunic. The style was much more traditional, and something regular folk hadn’t worn in years now. Not that it took away his charm. When women passed them by, their eyes darted to look him over. Some even openly pointed. Though so engrossed in his reading, he was oblivious. His boots were worn. Likely handmade, but not by a cobbler if she had to guess. Someone who knew the craft, but perhaps didn’t have access to all the proper tools. They were tall, nearly reaching his knees, and dirty, which meant he spent plenty of time on the road. The real head scratcher was the sword at his belt. The scabbard was decadent, finely crafted with silver accents. A silver claw graced the end of the hilt, and it held a polished mirrored ball. Guessing by the finally crafted work, it was a sword even her father would have been proud to own. She wondered if the blade was as lovely as the rest of it.

But how had he gotten into the city past the shield? No one had left or entered in 50 years, to the day. There’s no way he could be new. It made no sense.

An old human carrying two large buckets appeared from a nearby alleyway. Dropping a bucket, it rolled into a young elf’s path. He kicked it away, cursing her. Which left the old woman scrambling after the pail. Volencia’s fountain companion jumped up the moment he realized what was happening and snagged the pail for her. The elf who’d kicked it already far enough off not to bother with. He had simply dropped the book onto his satchel and taken off to help her. He was still over there, speaking with her, and she was pointing out in the direction she had come from, her hand gripping his arm.

Volencia saw a passerby stop. His eyes bounced from the bag Damion had left to where he spoke to the old human, his back to them. He shifted direction, bee-lining straight toward where the satchel and book sat. Realizing what he was about to do, Volencia got to the bag first, grabbing the book, and the arm strap just before the other individual did. He grabbed at it anyway, holding the opposite strap. “It’s mine, I forgot where I’d put it. Thanks for watching it for me.” The elf said, giving her a slimy smile.

“Funny, because I’ve watched the elf over there holding it and reading this book all morning. I suggest you drop it before I call the guards to arrest you.”

He laughed, tugging harder at the bag, pulling her with it. “A bag will be the least of their worries, especially today.”

Her anger ignited. “Agreed, but if their princess demands it, they will listen. Especially today.” Her lips curled upward prettily as she batted her eyes at him.

The look of realization that hit him almost made her laugh. She was dressed as royalty would be, though she didn’t wear her crown. His eyes skimmed the detailed silk and jewels gracing her neck. But it was her long, uncut, braided hair that spoke the loudest, she knew. As his eyes skimmed her braid. He had no reason not to believe her.

“Hey!” She heard the deep boom of Damion’s voice behind her, and though she knew he wasn’t talking to her, it sent a shiver down her spine. The thief dropped the handle he was holding and took off the way he’d been headed before. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left that there. Thank you for protecting my bag, it has everything I came here with in it.” He set the buckets down on the ledge of the fountain as Volencia handed him the satchel. He stuffed the book in the bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“One good deed for another.” She smiled up at him. “It was very gallant of you to run to help her.” The little old woman was just reaching the fountain, looking concerned.

Glancing between the two of them she said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make such a fuss.”

“No fuss, I just needed to thank my friend here for saving my things. My hero… I don’t suppose you’d be in favor of honoring me with your name yet?” He leaned in toward her a little, smelling of campfire and mint.

She wanted to give it to him so badly, but bit her lip wondering; would he recognize her if she did?

“I get it, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, digging around in his bag. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too pushy. Here,” he held out a wooden stick from his bag, “I’d like you to have this, as a thank you.”

Flipping the stick in his hand, it became a beautifully rendered rose made of wood, with the petals stained red and all. She stared at it, blushing. “It’s so beautiful. But I can’t—“

“Well, I wouldn’t have it at all if he’d run off with my things. I really would like you to have it.” She took it from him. He laughed as she put it up to her nose before remembering it wasn’t real. “A reminder that things we think are just normal reaction can be construed as heroism.” He lifted the buckets, dunking them in the water. “I’m going to walk these over to Gilden’s house. If you’d like, you could join us. Maybe it would help take your mind off whatever’s been troubling you? I can even promise to keep conversation light.”

Twirling the rose between her fingers she glanced at Gilden. She smiled. Oh, how she wanted to… she was really enjoying his company. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Okay.” He pulled the buckets off the fountain, looking disappointed. “It was nice to meet you, hero.” He smiled again, winking, but this time, it wasn’t wide enough to show his dimple.

He hadn’t gone far when she took a few steps toward them, calling out. “Damion?”

Turning back, his green eyes shone at her, “Yeah?”

“If I’m still here when you get back, maybe you could still help me forget my problems?”

Straight white teeth flashed, his right cheek almost showed a matching dimple. “I’d love to. Maybe think about giving me a name too?” She nodded smiling as he walked away. It had been so long since she’d felt genuine happiness. She kept twirling the rose, staring at it, wondering, who it had been for? Maybe there was someone special back home he was going to give it to?