The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the modest yet elegant room. Evelyne stirred first, her violet eyes fluttering open as she adjusted to the gentle light. A strange warmth enveloped her, a firm yet comforting weight pressed against her side. Still half-lost in the remnants of sleep, she inhaled deeply, only to realize something was undeniably wrong.
Her body tensed as awareness rushed through her, and her gaze darted downward. Her breath caught in her throat.
Arin's arm was draped around her waist, his body nestled close to hers. Their legs were tangled beneath the covers, the supposed boundary pillow nowhere to be found. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against her neck, warm and unguarded in sleep. His usual sharp, calculating expression had softened into something peaceful, almost vulnerable. It was a sight she never thought she would witness.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she tried to process what had happened. How did this happen? They had placed a pillow between them, hadn't they? Her mind raced, sifting through last night's events. There was no memory of them shifting positions, yet here they were—entwined as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Did he move in his sleep? Or… did I?
The thought sent another wave of embarrassment through her. She had spent years cultivating a composed and distant demeanor, but in this moment, she was anything but. We're engaged… The realization echoed in her mind. This will be normal once we're married… But marriage was still far off, and this—this was too soon.
Slowly, carefully, she attempted to extricate herself from his grasp. She bit her lip, moving an inch at a time, not wanting to wake him and endure whatever awkward conversation would follow. After what felt like an eternity, she finally slipped free, rolling to the very edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath, she sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she tried to regain her composure.
It was only then that Arin stirred, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes blinked open. He let out a small, sleepy breath before realization dawned upon him. His golden eyes widened as he took in their disheveled state—the crumpled sheets, the missing pillow, Evelyne sitting stiffly beside him, flushed with unspoken mortification.
His mind worked quickly, piecing together the situation. No way… His gaze flickered to the misplaced pillow, now unceremoniously lying on the floor. Our sleeping habits… That was the only explanation. He had never been a perfectly still sleeper, and apparently, neither was she.
A silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of mutual embarrassment.
"…Good morning," Arin finally said, his voice rough from sleep.
Evelyne turned her face away, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Morning," she mumbled.
For a moment, neither moved. Then, as if on cue, they both scrambled out of bed at the same time, nearly tripping over the sheets in their haste to put distance between them. The room was suddenly filled with unnecessary movement—Arin adjusting his sleeves, Evelyne smoothing out her nightgown—both avoiding eye contact as if that would erase what had happened.
"We should get dressed," Arin muttered.
"Obviously," Evelyne snapped, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, but the sharpness in her tone betrayed her flustered state.
They turned their backs to each other, each quickly gathering their respective clothes before retreating to change. The moment they stepped out of their respective corners, dressed and composed once more, the earlier tension remained, clinging to the air between them.
Wordlessly, they exited the room, heading down to the inn's dining area. The morning atmosphere was lively, filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering broth. Yet, at their table, silence reigned. Evelyne poked at her breakfast with her fork, her eyes fixated on the plate as if it held the answers to life's greatest mysteries. Arin, on the other hand, was focused on stirring his tea far longer than necessary.
Neither spoke of the morning incident. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made—never mention this again.
It was Evelyne who finally broke the silence, though not without hesitation. "So… what's our plan?"
Arin took a measured sip of his tea before answering. "We should use this time wisely. Perhaps exploring the town would be beneficial. It's rare for us to see the world outside of nobility's grasp."
Evelyne nodded. "That could be interesting. We could see how commoners live, maybe visit the market."
"Or," Arin interjected with a slight smirk, "we could do something a bit more thrilling."
Evelyne raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Hunting," he suggested. "It would be a good test of our abilities. We've spent most of our time honing skills in training grounds, but real-world experience is different."
She considered it, tapping her fingers against the table. "It's been a while since I've had an actual hunt. It could be a useful way to assess our strengths outside of duels and controlled environments."
"And," Arin added, leaning slightly forward, "it would be a good distraction."
She scoffed, but a hint of amusement played on her lips. "A distraction from what, exactly?"
He met her gaze with an unwavering look. "From the pressure. From the expectations waiting for us when we return."
The words settled between them, and for once, Evelyne did not refute them. She simply nodded. "Alright. Hunting it is."
A comfortable silence replaced the earlier awkwardness, their shared understanding bridging the gap that had formed since waking up. The tension of the morning had not entirely dissipated, but it had lessened, replaced by something steadier—an unspoken agreement that they were in this together, whatever 'this' was.
As they finished their meal, Evelyne glanced at Arin, her expression thoughtful. Perhaps this little escape wouldn't be so bad after all.