“I suppose I’m less hungry than I thought I would be,” he replied. Her face didn’t change, but he got the distinct impression that she was unconvinced. Taneas glanced sidelong at her with a nervous, uncertain expression; but her eyes remained on Varen.
“Did something happen between you and Healer Korik?” she asked, and this time Varen really did flinch with surprise.
“That’s—that’s rather presumptuous of you, Ranger,” he stammered, trying to slow his hammering heart. She bowed her head slightly.
“My apologies,” she said. Her tone was exactly the same as always. “But we noticed that you and the healer did not speak to each other on the journey here, even though you had been traveling together to reach Solitude. Is he someone we cannot trust? Is there cause for concern?”
“No, no,” Varen replied quickly, shaking his head. “It isn’t—it’s nothing like that. No. There’s no cause for concern.”
She said nothing in response, only cocked her head slightly, as if prompting him to continue. Varen forced himself not to scowl; but he supposed that from the outside looking in, it could appear that he and Korik might have disliked each other for more nefarious reasons. Even if Korik never wanted to see him again, Varen didn’t want him to get into any trouble, so he needed to convince Lyielle that he was telling the truth.
So, begrudgingly, he ground out, “We just had a slight... falling out before we got to Solitude. Being trapped alone in the wilderness together is a sure way to butt heads with someone.”
“Was Healer Korik your friend?” Lyielle asked, direct as ever. The question felt like a stab in his chest.Werethey friends? He wanted them to be—he wanted to be more than that—but at that moment, it felt as if they never had been friends, and maybe never would be.
“I suppose we were,” he finally answered. “We got along decently well for a time. Until we didn’t.”
Taneas’ expression had become incredulous the longer he looked over at Lyielle. Not that Varen could blame him, as these were rather brazen questions, considering how perfectly polite the woman had been until now. Her eyes remained on Varen’s, watching him with such intensity that he was feeling unsettled.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyielle finally said, seeming to deem his answer acceptable. “That is unfortunate. But, perhaps, some friendships are only meant to last a short time. Once someone has served their purpose in your life, you can go your separate ways. It may be sad, but is often for the best.”
Her words were intended to be comforting, but the longer Lyielle spoke, the more infuriated Varen became. He wanted to fire back with some cutting remark, but his mind was blank. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to cause a scene, so he forced a tight smile back at her. “There is some wisdom there, Ranger. Thank you.”
After an uncomfortable silence, Taneas started to chatter nervously again. It was a familiar habit, one Varen also found himself falling into whenever he was nervous; but being on the other end of it, for once, made him suddenly feel sympathy for everyone whose ears he had talked off due to nerves in his past. Cold rage still simmered in his chest at Lyielle’s suggestion.
When Lavi came by again, Varen waved her over, paid their bill—ignoring how profusely Taneas thanked him—and excused himself, saying he had some business to attend to, and that he hoped the pair enjoyed the rest of their evening. He hurried out of the dining hall before either could get more than a polite goodbye out. He started heading down the streets deeper into Drol Kuggradh, but stopped short, realizing he had no idea where he was going.
The city wasn’t especially large, and he was sure that he could find Korik’s shop easily enough—after all, he was the only healer with a permanent residence within its walls. He could ask any orc off the street and find out where to go.
But Korik had been quietly furious with him just a few hours ago. Maybe they both needed to cool off. Varen was angry at what Lyielle had said, desperate to prove her wrong; but that would make him rash, and his inability to think and reactcalmlywas what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
He didn’t want his relationship with Korik to be temporary, for their transaction to be over so they could now go their separate ways satisfied. Hewasn’tsatisfied. He wanted to tell Korik as much—wanted to tell him all the things that he regretted about how he’d handled their... situation. How he didn’t want it to be temporary, or meaningless. How he had never, in all his long years of life, felt his heart jump and flutter the way it did when they were together. How he relished being the one to see Korik’s smiles and hear his laughs, when he was so guarded and stoic around everyone else.
Varen needed to apologize, properly this time. He hated the realization, but it was the truth. If he had any hope of mending things between him and Korik, he needed to find the orc before he left Drol Kuggradh and beg his forgiveness—for saying such flippantly cruel things, for not being upfront about his feelings from the beginning—for all of it. Maybe if he could lay it all out plainly, he could convince Korik to stay.
“You alright there?” an orc asked, walking the opposite way on the stone street. Varen jumped, realizing he’d stopped and was staring blankly across the road in his rumination. This orc looked like a worker, a smith of some sort; he wore a worn leather apron over a sleeveless tunic, his arms bulging with muscles and littered with burns and scars.
“Er—yes,” Varen stammered, shaking himself back to alertness. “Just clearing my head. Thanks.”
“I’m heading up to the castle, if you’re lost,” the orc offered, and Varen shook his head.
“I’m alright,” he replied, then paused. “Actually... If I wanted something to help with a hangover, where could I go around here?”
The orc chuckled. “You’d want the healer’s house. He’s got a tonic for that. Used it more than once, myself, so you can be sure it works.”
“Where would I find him?”
“A few streets down. Make a right at Shazel’s Silks, then keep going for a bit. It’s a stone house with herbs hanging in the windows and some flowerbeds in the front. Can’t miss it.”
Flowerbeds. Somehow the thought of Korik growing flowers seemed unbearably sweet. He was sure that they were probably herbs, or had medicinal properties; but it also grounded the orc’s presence in the city in a way that Varen had somehow never considered before. He had a whole life here—a shop he ran, plants he would someday harvest—and Varen had driven him to the point that he was ready to abandon it all. Guilt wracked his chest, but he kept the same pleasant expression on his face.
“Appreciate it,” he said to the orc, then kept walking. He would not go there now, but at least he knew where to go, once he planned out what he would say. And if he happened to pass by it on his way back to the castle, well, he just wanted to know what it looked like for the future.
He turned at the shop the orc had mentioned and continued on the winding path; sure enough, after he’d passed by a few rows of houses and shops, he could spot it up ahead. The cobblestone path led slightly uphill, and on the right side of the path was a stone, two-story building with raised flowerbeds in the front. Even from this distance, Varen could see the lower level had tall glass windows facing the street, and in them he saw bundles of dried herbs hanging.
Korik was nowhere to be seen. It was as he expected, yet it still elicited a strange mix of disappointment and relief all at once. It was better not to see him now; but some part of Varen had hoped maybe Korik would be here, would confront him, and would force him to say all the things swirling around in his head before he could chicken out.
But the street was empty, and it was dark enough now that he could see candlelight flickering in the smaller windows of the second floor. At least he’d made it home safe.
