“Because I hired you, not them,” Adrissu growled. Vesper was in his sleeve and poked her head out curiously; one of the boys yelped in surprise as she appeared, but Ruan was still unmoved.
“I’m not asking you topaythem,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And they’re not stopping me from doing my job. Gods forbid I have a way to pass the time while minding your tower.”
“Thegodsaren’t paying you. Iam,” Adrissu spat. Still Ruan seemed undeterred, meeting his eyes with equal parts frustration and expectation, waiting for his verdict. Vesper’s hold around his forearm tightened, and Adrissu scoffed in irritation, turning back in the doorway. “Be quieter. If I hear them again, I won’t give them a second chance.” He slammed the heavy wooden door closed behind him, so if Ruan thanked him for his accommodation, he did not hear it.
At the end of the second week, Ruan approached him before he left for the day and said abruptly, “I won’t be returning next week. Sorry.”
Adrissu scowled, but was not entirely surprised. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I...” To his surprise, the human at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, I appreciate the opportunity to work with you, and to save up a little bit of money. But the guild just got a contract for a hunting expedition, and I’d like to do that, so...”
“I see,” Adrissu sighed, and looked back down at his desk. “Well, I wish you luck on your expedition, then.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out,” Ruan said, and turned to go.
Adrissu bit his lip, hesitating, then stood before Ruan made it to the door. “You’re welcome to return when you get back,” he called, then added, “If you’d like, that is.”
Ruan paused, looking back over at him. The door was half-open, and he was haloed in the late afternoon light with his rucksack slung over one shoulder. A slight grin started to play at his lips, and Adrissu’s heart ached all over again. Why was he doing this to himself? What was the purpose of prolonging his suffering this way? It would be better to let him go and make a clean break of it all, wouldn’t it?
“Sure. I’ll let you know when I’m back in town,” Ruan laughed. “If you haven’t already filled the position again by then.”
Adrissu nodded, then Ruan stepped through the door and was gone.
Mercifully, he did not see Ruan again for well over a month. Without the knowledge that the man was just a short walk away at any given moment, it was easier to ignore the ache in the pit of his stomach that Adrissu felt in his absence. There were even days that he could avoid ruminating on his disastrous luck and pretend that he had never felt that accursed connection to the human—that he had never felt his bones ache and blood sing out for a man with whom he had only ever shook hands. It never lasted long, but it was nice while it did.
If he had learned anything from this botched venture, it was that he worked best alone, so he did not even consider hiring on another guard, and the mercenary guild did not reach out to him about it. He had gotten away with his ruse, though he wondered if the instructor—Ederick—was more perceptive about it all than he had seemed at first glance.
Whenever he ruminated on it too long, though, Vesper would look at him with her black pearl eyes, and he would feel something like sympathy emanating from her. The last thing he needed was asnakefeelingsorryfor him, so he would throw himself into his work whenever it happened, and eventually the feeling would fade until he dwelled on it too long again.
Benil Branwood kept pestering him about the quarry. He almost welcomed the irritation: at least it was something different to be frustrated over. He was tempted to give into the man’s supplication, if only to settle the matter once and for all; but agreeing to this would likely embolden the human to start pestering him again about his damned daughter with renewed fervor. Of a lesser concern were Adrissu’s own misgivings about the expansion of the mine without first expanding the town. Though certainly a problem for Polimnos, it would affect him little, if at all; since his life had settled back into a semblance of a normal routine, he was far more interested in keeping his interactions with Benil and his brood to a bare minimum.
Then Ruan returned. The moment the knock sounded against the heavy wooden door, Adrissu knew it was him. Normally he would have Vesper answer the door, but with his heart leaping up into his throat, he descended from his private upper floors to answer it himself.
Ruan grinned up at him when the door swung open; his skin was a few shades darker from working in the sun, and Adrissu could see a healing wound on his shoulder, but the man didn’t look too terribly worse for wear.
“You’re back,” he said dryly, forcing down the elation that swelled in his fickle, foolish heart at the sight of him. He had been perfectly fine without him: why now did seeing him whole and hale feel like such a breath of relief?
“Missed me?” Ruan laughed. Just as traitorous as his heart, Vesper came up behind Adrissu as quickly as she could slither, radiating excitement as she rose up to greet him. He smiled, sunlight emanating from his grin, and crouched to meet her. He gave a light stroke under her chin with two fingers, before glancing back up at Adrissu through his eyelashes. “I noticed you haven’t hired a new guard.”
Adrissu sighed. “I have not.”
For a moment, Ruan was silent. It was only the span of a heartbeat, maybe two, but it seemed to go on for much longer. His warm eyes flickered from Adrissu’s face down the length of his body only to flash up to meet his eyes again, and for the first time something like recognition—likeheat—stirred in the human’s expression. Adrissu kept his face as stony as he could. Let the human suspect whatever he wanted; Adrissu would never admit to anything.
“Should I come by the usual time tomorrow morning?” Ruan finally asked as he straightened back up, and Vesper slid back toward Adrissu. His tone was light, but that lingering heat was still in his eyes.
“I thought the job was too boring for you,” Adrissu retorted, and Ruan laughed again.
“I may not be as smart as you, Adrissu, but I know better than to turn down being paid to do nothing,” he said, shaking his head. Despite himself, a small, amused grin twitched at the corners of Adrissu’s mouth, and his cheeks ached with the effort of forcing it back down. He knew he should deny Ruan—he should send him away so he would never have to see his face again.
“You may resume your post at the same time tomorrow, then,” he said with a nod.
Adrissu did his best to ignore Ruan when the human arrived the next morning and took up his usual post outside the door of his tower. But he was acutely aware of his presence, even as he attended to his morning chores and settled in with a book. Predictably, he ended up reading the same paragraph over and over with no memory of what the words said.
Ruan came inside for his lunch as casually as if he’d never left. Adrissu pretended to ignore him, watching him sit down at the low table and unwrap his small bundle of bread and cheese.
“So what are you reading?” Ruan asked, peering over at him as he took a huge bite of bread. Adrissu hid his scowl in his book: he hated when humans spoke while eating.
“This is a text on the magical properties of plants native to Aefraya,” he said, keeping his tone as dry as he could manage.
