Sett's lips curved into a faint smile, subdued but unmistakable.
His grandmother shot him a sidelong glance but didn't protest, her face a mask of calm. The innkeeper handed them a key, and they climbed the narrow stairs to the room—a cramped space with a single bed, a chipped basin, and a window overlooking the oasis.
The air between them was heavy, not with anger but with the unspoken remnants of the day—his failure, her intervention, their shared victory.
"I was mad because I thought you didn't care about the reward I gave you," she said, removing some pins from her hair and putting it on the small table.
Sett kicked off his boots and settled onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight.
He blinked. "How can I not care?"
Ismera paused, then joined him, the small space forcing them close. Sett could smell her fresh smell, she smelled a bit like wine, but more like a white flower, too—which he had forgotten the name of.
