Chapter 122: Splitting Up in Oakrest

The town of Oakrest welcomed them with the familiar bustle of a border settlement: merchants shouting prices, carts rumbling over cobblestones, the smell of fresh bread mixing with woodsmoke and horse sweat.

The main street widened into a lively market square lined with stalls, inns, and supply shops. The group paused at the edge of the square, taking in the scene.

Adam scanned the buildings quickly—eyes landing on a sturdy two-story inn with a sign reading “The Traveler’s Rest” hanging above the door.

“Alright,” he said, turning to the others. “We split up to save time. Elise and I will find us a place to stay for the night. The rest of you—Ignis, Lilith, Seraphina—handle supplies. Food, water, anything we might need for the next leg. Meet back here in two hours.”

Ignis pumped her fist. “Market time! I’m gonna find the spiciest thing they have!”

Lilith’s crimson eyes flicked toward her with faint amusement. Adam caught the look and added quickly,

“Lilith—keep an eye on Ignis. Make sure she doesn’t cause a scene or buy half the market.”

Lilith inclined her head gracefully, lips curving into a slow, almost predatory smile.

“Of course. If she starts causing trouble…” Her voice dropped to a soft, velvet murmur. “…I’ll have to punish her properly.”

Ignis froze mid-step. A visible shiver ran down her spine. Her golden eyes widened.

“P-punish?” she squeaked, suddenly very interested in staring at her own boots. “I-I’ll be good.”

Lilith’s smile widened just a fraction—enough to make Ignis gulp audibly.

Adam shook his head, fighting a smirk. “Good. Go.”

Seraphina, however, hesitated. Her hand tightened on the reins of the horses, eyes flicking protectively toward Elise.

“Highness, I should stay with you. If the curse flares again—”

Elise turned to her knight, placing a gentle hand on Seraphina’s armored forearm.

“Sera,” she said softly, “if it flares, Adam will feel it before I do. He’ll be right there. You’ve seen it yourself—he quiets it just by being near. I’ll be safe.”

Seraphina’s jaw worked, clearly torn. “But—”

“You also need to buy supplies for both of us,” Elise continued, voice gentle but firm. “Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

Seraphina looked between Elise and Adam—still wary, still protective—but the logic was undeniable. Finally, she exhaled sharply.

“…Fine. But if anything feels off—even slightly—you call for me. Immediately.”

Elise smiled—small, warm, grateful.

“I will. Thank you, Sera.”

Seraphina gave Adam one last hard look—half-warning, half-reluctant respect—then turned to Ignis and Lilith.

“Let’s go. And no detours.”

Ignis saluted dramatically. “Yes ma’am!”

Lilith merely inclined her head, already guiding Ignis toward the market stalls with one subtle hand on her shoulder.

The four of them moved off—Ignis already pointing excitedly at a spice vendor, Seraphina keeping a firm grip on the reins and a watchful eye on her charge.

Adam turned to Elise.

“Come on. Let’s find that inn.”

Elise nodded, falling into step beside him. For a moment they walked in silence, the sounds of the market fading slightly as they turned down a quieter side street.

Adam pushed open the heavy wooden door of The Traveler’s Rest. A small bell jingled above them, announcing their arrival. The common room was warm and dimly lit—low beams, a crackling hearth, tables half-full with early evening patrons nursing mugs of ale. The scent of stew and fresh bread hung thick in the air.

Behind the counter stood the owner: a stout, middle-aged woman with gray-streaked hair tied in a loose bun, apron stained from the kitchen, and a no-nonsense smile that immediately softened when she saw them.

“Welcome, welcome!” she called, wiping her hands on a rag. “Rooms or just a meal? We’ve got both, though rooms are filling up fast tonight.”

Adam stepped forward, Elise close beside him.

“Two rooms,” he said. “For five people. One night.”

The woman—her name tag read “Sira”—looked between Adam and Elise, eyes twinkling with instant mischief. She leaned forward on the counter, elbows resting comfortably.

“Two rooms, eh? One for the happy couple and one for the rest of your friends?” She winked broadly at Elise. “You two look like you’ve been on the road a while. Newlyweds? Or just sweethearts finally getting a proper roof over your heads?”

Elise’s cheeks flushed the faintest pink. Adam blinked once, expression flat.

“We’re not—”

Mira waved a hand, laughing heartily.

“Oh, don’t mind me, lad! I’ve run this inn twenty years. I know love when I see it. No need to be shy.”

Elise recovered first, offering a small, polite smile despite the color in her face.

“Just friends traveling together,” she said gently. “Nothing more.”

Mira’s grin only widened.

“Friends, sure. I’ve heard that one before. Right, then—two rooms it is. One double bed and one with three singles. That’ll be eight silver total.”

Adam fished the coins from his pouch and slid them across the counter. Sira counted quickly, then reached under the counter and produced two iron keys.

“Up the stairs, second floor. Room 7 for the couple—nice view of the square—and Room 9 across the hall for the others. Clean sheets, fresh water, chamber pots emptied this morning.”

She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice just enough for the two of them to hear.

“And one more thing—please keep it down tonight, alright? Walls are thin as parchment. We’ve got other guests who like their sleep. No… loud celebrations, if you catch my meaning.”

Adam’s face remained perfectly neutral.

Elise, however, turned an even deeper shade of red. Her gray eyes widened fractionally.

“We—uh—we won’t,” she managed, voice slightly higher than usual.

Sira winked again.

“Enjoy your stay.”

She slid the keys across the counter.

Adam took them without comment, then turned toward the stairs. Elise followed quickly, cheeks still burning.

Once they were out of Sira’s earshot and climbing the creaky wooden steps, Elise finally let out a small, embarrassed laugh.

“She really thought we were…”

Adam glanced sideways at her, one corner of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah. She did.”

Elise pressed a hand to her flushed cheek.

“I’m sorry. I should have corrected her more firmly.”

Adam shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter. People see what they want to see. Let her think whatever. As long as the beds are clean and the walls aren’t that thin.”

Elise laughed again—soft, genuine—and the sound eased the lingering awkwardness between them.

They reached the second floor. Room 7 was on the right—simple, but tidy. A double bed with a thick quilt, a small washstand, a single window overlooking the square. Room 9 across the hall had three narrow singles, already made up.

Adam handed Elise the key to Room 7.

“You take this one. I’ll share with the others.”

Elise hesitated.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he said simply. “You need rest more than any of us. And if the curse stirs tonight, I’ll be right across the hall.”

She accepted the key with a small nod.

“Thank you, Adam.”

He gave a short nod in return.

Adam unlocked the door to Room 7 and stepped inside, holding it open for Elise with a small, almost unconscious gesture. She slipped past him, the faint scent of wildflowers and road dust clinging to her cloak. The room was modest but warm: a double bed with a thick wool quilt, a washstand, a single lantern already lit, casting soft amber light across the uneven floorboards.

Adam set his pack down and pressed a hand to the mattress. “Bed’s hard,” he muttered, half to himself. “Like sleeping on packed earth with a blanket. Still… better than dirt. Better than stone. Better than nothing.”

Elise smiled faintly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “I’ve slept on far worse these past months. A real bed—even a hard one—feels like mercy.”

She took a careful step toward the washstand, intending to pour water into the basin. But the floorboards—old, warped, uneven—betrayed her. One plank dipped sharply. Her ankle twisted. A small, startled gasp escaped her lips as she pitched forward.

Adam moved on pure instinct.

He caught her—arms wrapping around her waist and shoulders in the same heartbeat. Their momentum carried them both backward. Elise landed atop him on the bed with a muffled thump. The mattress sighed beneath their combined weight. Adam’s back hit the quilt; his arms instinctively tightened to cushion her fall, one hand cradling the back of her head so it wouldn’t strike the headboard.

For a long, suspended moment, neither breathed.

Elise’s face hovered inches above his. Her long golden hair spilled forward like liquid sunlight, brushing his cheeks and forehead in soft waves. Strands caught the lantern light and glowed like spun gold. Her gray eyes—wide with surprise—locked onto his crimson ones. Up close, they weren’t just gray; they were storm clouds lit from within, flecked with silver and the faintest hint of blue, deep enough to drown in.

Adam’s heart slammed against his ribs—hard, sudden, almost painful.

’She’s… beautiful. From this close, she’s breathtaking. Her breath is warm. Her hair smells like rain and wildflowers. I should move. I should let go. Why can’t I move?’

Elise’s breath hitched. Heat flooded her cheeks in a rush of pink that spread to the tips of her ears. Her palms pressed against his chest—feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath the fabric.

’We’re too close. Far too close.’

The silence stretched—thick, trembling, alive with unspoken things.

Lantern light played across their faces, turning shadows soft and edges golden. Neither blinked. Neither moved. The world outside the room—the inn, the town, the road, the curse—faded to a distant hum.

Then—

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