Chapter 182: With friends in the tavern

They drank to that, the moment taking on a weight that transcended simple alcohol consumption.

Meanwhile, Taeryn had noticed a young woman at the bar—pretty, with blonde hair and an easy smile. He caught her eye, grinned with the confidence that came naturally to him, and within minutes had migrated from their table to a stool beside her.

Jaenor watched with amusement as Taeryn deployed his full arsenal of charm. The lean fighter had always been good with people, able to talk his way into or out of most situations. And judging by how the woman was laughing at whatever he was saying, it was working.

“He’s going to get lucky tonight,” Rena observed, following Jaenor’s gaze.

“He always does.”

“Natural talent,” Jaenor agreed.

“Or complete shamelessness,” Rena countered.

“Either way, it’s effective.”

They fell into comfortable silence, nursing their drinks. The noise of the tavern washed over them—conversations, laughter, and the occasional burst of louder celebration. Normal sounds from normal people living normal lives.

It was nice. Grounding.

A reminder that beneath all the cosmic significance and world-shaking power, simple pleasures still mattered.

Rena shifted closer until their shoulders were touching. It was a familiar gesture—they’d sat like this countless times as children, finding comfort in proximity.

“Are you scared?” she asked quietly.

“Terrified,” Jaenor admitted.

“Not of the fighting or the power. But of failing. Of not being what everyone needs me to be. Of letting down the people who’ve stayed loyal despite everything.”

“You won’t fail,” Rena said with certainty.

“Because you care too much to fail. That’s always been your strength—you carry other people’s burdens like they’re your own.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I have a choice,” Jaenor said.

“If the bloodline, the power, the expectations—if they’ve shaped me into someone who can’t say no. Who can’t walk away even when walking away would be smarter.”

“Then we’re perfectly matched,” Rena said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Because I can’t walk away from you. Never could, even when staying was dangerous. We’re stuck with each other.”

Jaenor felt warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“I can think of worse fates.”

They sat like that for several minutes, comfortable in the silence between them.

Then the tavern door opened and Matilda entered.

An old woman moved through the tavern with the confidence of someone who’d been coming here for decades. She spotted Jaenor immediately—hard not to, given his distinctive presence—and altered her path to approach their table.

“Well,” she said, looking down at them with an expression that mixed amusement and disapproval. She was a member of the Arkwright family, distant blood; Jaenor had seen her a couple of times in the estate.

“The lord of Arkwright House, drinking in a common tavern with his childhood friends. How charmingly provincial.”

There was no real malice in her tone, but there was definitely condescension.

Matilda had managed the trade affairs for eighteen years and had dealt with nobles and politics and complex negotiations. Finding her great-nephew drinking in a tavern probably struck her as beneath his station.

Jaenor met her gaze calmly.

“Even lords need to relax sometimes. And these people are more than childhood friends—they’re family.”

“Family,” Matilda repeated, her tone skeptical. She looked at Rena, still leaning against Jaenor’s shoulder.

“And this one? What’s her role exactly? Companion? Bodyguard? Or something more… intimate?”

The implication was clear and designed to embarrass. Matilda was testing him, seeing if he’d flinch or get defensive.

Rena felt Jaenor tense slightly beside her. Before he could respond, before Matilda could press the advantage, Rena made a decision.

She turned, smoothly shifting from sitting beside Jaenor to straddling his lap. Her hands came up to frame his face, and her body pressed against his in a way that was unmistakably suggestive.

“Oh, I’m definitely something more intimate,” Rena said, her voice carrying just enough volume that nearby patrons could hear.

She looked at Matilda with complete confidence. “I’m the woman who knows him better than anyone. Who’s seen him at his worst and his best. Who he trusts completely.”

She leaned in, bringing her face close to Jaenor’s, their lips almost touching.

“And who isn’t intimidated by a stuffy old woman who thinks titles and bloodlines matter more than actual connection?”

The tavern had gone very quiet. Everyone was watching now, this sudden display of brazen intimacy impossible to ignore.

Matilda’s expression flickered—surprise, then something that might have been approval beneath the shock.

Jaenor, for his part, had frozen. His hands moved around the waist of Rena. He leaned back, relaxed and amused, seeing Rena act so brazen in public. It was a side he hadn’t seen before.

Rena maintained her position, staring at Matilda with challenge in her eyes.

The older woman studied them both for several long moments. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

“Well then. It seems the young lord has more spine than I gave him credit for, choosing companions who won’t be cowed by propriety or station.”

She inclined her head slightly to Rena. “My apologies if my comments were presumptuous. I forget sometimes that genuine connection matters more than political advantage.”

She turned to leave, then paused.

“Though you might want to take your… intimacy… somewhere more private. Putting on shows in public taverns isn’t particularly dignified for an Arkwright heir.”

With that, she departed, leaving them alone again.

The tavern’s noise slowly resumed, though there were definitely more glances directed at their table now.

Rena remained in Jaenor’s lap for a moment longer, then she started laughing—genuine amusement at her own audacity and the absurdity of the situation.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, still laughing.

“Neither can I,” Jaenor admitted. His hands still on her waist, holding her steady but not pulling her closer.

“That was… bold.”

“She was being condescending. Someone needed to put her in her place.” Rena’s laughter faded slightly, and she looked at him with an expression that mixed humor and something more vulnerable.

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