The room they were given at the inn was far more luxurious than Arin had expected from a place nestled in the heart of a bustling town. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts, illuminated by the warm glow of a hanging lantern. The ceiling arched elegantly, decorated with delicate golden filigree, while the floor was covered in plush carpets that muffled their footsteps. The grand four-poster bed stood at the center of the room, draped in silken sheets embroidered with golden vines. A chaise lounge rested near the window, overlooking the town's quiet streets.
Arin took in the sight, exhaling softly. It was far better than sleeping in a carriage or a tent in the wilderness, but one detail stood out—the single, massive bed. He turned to Evelyne, who stood by the door, her violet eyes unreadable.
"I'll take the couch," Arin stated firmly, already moving toward it.
Evelyne raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "That tiny thing? It looks barely comfortable enough to sit on, let alone sleep."
Arin smirked. "I've slept in worse places."
She rolled her eyes. "You're a noble. I doubt you've ever had to experience true discomfort."
He chuckled, leaning against the couch's armrest. "You'd be surprised. But either way, I think it's best."
Evelyne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before stepping forward. "Arin, stop being stubborn. It's a massive bed. We can share it—just put a pillow between us if it makes you feel better."
He hesitated, watching her carefully. "Are you sure?"
"It's not like I'm asking you to hold me in your sleep," she scoffed, then her lips curved into a teasing smirk. "Unless you're worried about losing control and clinging to me."
Arin laughed, shaking his head. "You wish. Fine. But if you start snoring, I'm moving to the couch."
"I don't snore," she said, offended.
"I'll be the judge of that."
Evelyne huffed and turned toward the bathroom. "I'm taking a bath first."
As she disappeared behind the wooden door, Arin exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. Sharing a bed with Evelyne Valmont. A month ago, he wouldn't have even considered such a scenario. But now… things had changed.
---
After Evelyne finished, she stepped out dressed in a loose nightgown, her damp hair cascading down her back. Arin, despite himself, found his gaze lingering for a second too long before he quickly turned away, grabbing his own change of clothes.
"Your turn," she said, smirking as she settled onto the bed.
He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the bathroom. The warm water helped him relax, but his mind remained restless. Thoughts of Evelyne, of their journey, of their uncertain future—everything seemed to be pressing down on him at once.
When he returned, dressed in a simple tunic and loose pants, he found Evelyne already tucked in, her back facing his side of the bed. A single pillow rested between them, a clear boundary neither of them would cross.
He lay down, hands behind his head, staring at the ornate ceiling. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of the sheets. Yet despite the comfort, sleep refused to come.
Then, a soft voice broke the silence.
"Arin… can I ask you something?"
He turned his head slightly. "Of course."
There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice quieter. "Do you ever feel like… no matter what you do, you're always walking toward the same fate?"
Arin blinked, turning fully to face her. "That's… a heavy question for this hour."
She let out a quiet chuckle. "I know. It's just… I feel like no matter how hard I fight, I can never change the way people see me. And I keep wondering… does it even matter to try?"
Arin exhaled, his fingers tightening around the edge of the pillow between them. "It matters," he said firmly. "Fate isn't something written in stone. I used to believe it was, but I've come to realize it's shaped by the choices we make."
She turned slightly, her violet eyes searching his in the dim light. "And if someone else has already written the story for you?"
He hesitated, then, after a long pause, spoke. "Then you take the pen and write a new one."
Evelyne stared at him for a long moment before letting out a soft laugh. "You make it sound so simple."
"It isn't," he admitted. "But that's why I want to protect you. And if that means changing fate itself, then so be it."
Evelyne's breath hitched. Something in his voice, in his unwavering resolve, made her chest tighten. Before she could stop herself, she whispered, "Promise me."
Arin turned onto his side, facing her fully now. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with determination. "I promise."
Then, his power surged.
The air around them grew thick, and a faint glow shimmered around him. The weight of his vow settled into reality—unbreakable, absolute.
Evelyne's fingers curled into the sheets. "You didn't have to use your power."
"I wanted to," he said simply. "So you'd believe me."
For the first time in a long while, Evelyne felt something warm settle in her heart. It wasn't trust—not yet—but it was something close.
She turned back onto her side, her voice softer than before. "Goodnight, Arin."
"Goodnight, Evelyne."
Despite the pillow between them, despite the distance they still had to cross, sleep finally came a little easier that night.