More profoundly, what kind of man was he?The kind who rescued anyone and everyone, regardless of whether they needed or wanted it?Or the kind who met others equally and found solutions together?
Behind him, the music slowed.Bastion held out his hand.
He caught a flash of fang as she smiled and placed a cool palm in his.The touch sent a tingle down his arm, soothing some turbulent thing deep inside him.He should have feared that touch, open gateway that it was.If she chose to cross that threshold, she would have easy access to all his thoughts, gallant and unchivalrous alike.
Instead, it felt like he was taking his first breath after a lifetime of drowning.
Bastion swallowed a sharp inhale and led her out onto the dance floor.Other dancers made space for them, like foam swirling on the waves.Bastion lifted her hand, their palms no longer kissing, but fully embracing.He took her shoulder blade with his other hand and pulled her closer.Not once in the many years he’d been dancing and flirting with the fairer sex had he ever felt so nervous to accept a woman’s invitation into their space.
Ulla watched him, her vertical pupils sharp and attentive as he listened to the music, trying not to get lost in the starry white freckles scattered over her cheeks.A brief moment of trepidation stalled him, but then he moved, and she came with him.She pressed her back into his palm, establishing a firm connection as he led her through a series of steps, testing the scope of her knowledge.
Several tentative steps later, any lingering concern disappeared.Ulla was an enthusiastic and accomplished dancer, but she relied on him entirely for when and where to move.Leading her felt easier and more natural than with other ladies.There was no anticipation, no agenda–only this heartbeat and the next, both of them completely present as they synchronized.
Comfortable now, Bastion looked around.Bart watched from behind the bar with stoic approval, arms folded across his broad chest.Amid a tangle of pirates surrounded by tipsy merrymakers, Triss leaned in to replace empty tankards with full ones, flirting shamelessly.Other dancers paid them hardly any mind as they swirled by in fits of laughter and the flash of bloomers.
But the Yvri watched with narrow gazes.The male, in particular, looked displeased.His lip curled.Beside him, contempt bled onto the faces of the others.
Long-buried rejection resurfaced, and Bastion folded inward.Cowardice wasn’t in his nature, but old hurts seared with their judgment.
A cool palm gently turned his face, disrupting the spiral of his thoughts.He found himself lost in the depths of Ulla’s sea-green eyes, and she shook her head ever so slightly.Whether she meant to share it or not, her palm against his cheek passed a sense of mutual loneliness, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Bastion felt understood.No one–not his peers, not his mentors, not Endre–knew how adrift he always felt.
Somehow, Ulla did.
He nodded, stood a little taller, and pulled her a little closer.They finished their dance, eyes locked.Then Bastion looped her arm in his and led her off the dance floor.
At the bar, the pirates passed out another round.Two of them whispered, eyeing Ulla with interest.Their attention alarmed Bastion.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”he whispered.Ulla shook her head.“You can stay with me.If you want.”
She considered him, raising one eyebrow.
“We’re probably safer together,” he said quickly, glancing back at the pirates.“That’s the only reason for this invitation–knight’s honor.”
She threw a haughty glance over her shoulder at the Yvri, still staring.Then, she gave him a sly smile and nodded.
__________
Intermittent drunken laughter persisted in the halls for hours after they left the common room, embroiling Bastion’s hyper-vigilance.
He’d insisted Ulla take the bed, finding an extra quilt folded in the trunk in the corner and positioning himself between her and the door.Somehow, despite the hard floor and unfamiliar space, he’d fallen into a restless sleep.
But just now, agigglewoke him.
He stared at the ceiling as he grasped his sword, straining his ears.Too many nights on the island, he’d woken to that sound.Bastion listened, unsettled by this second indicator that the wretch had followed him from that damned place.
When he finally glanced up at the bed, Ulla watched him with luminous eyes.Her hand rested on a bone knife beside the pillow, relaxed but ready.How long had she been awake?
A faint knock sent Bastion to his feet, white-knuckling his sword.Ulla rose, too, but he stopped her with a gentle downward motion of his hand.Then, he lifted a finger to his lips before creeping towards the door.She shoved the blankets away, swung her feet to the floor, and shifted her grip on her knife.
His hand paused over the bolt at the rap of another soft, intentional knock.
Bastion pressed the ball of one foot against the door as he slid the bolt open as quietly as possible.He peered through the crack, then withdrew to open it fully and usher Bart inside.
Ulla left the bed, her eyes wide in the light of a fire that was little more than dying embers.
“Those pirates are up to somethin’!”Bart whispered, voice laced with urgency.“They’ve gone to the garrison.”
“How do you know?”Bastion asked.
