The two sat in the quiet glow of the fire, the cavern filled with nothing but the soft crackle of flames and the faint rustle of the wind beyond its entrance. Aeliana’s gaze lingered on the dancing embers, but her thoughts were far from still.
The silence, though calming at first, started to gnaw at her. It felt too open, too vulnerable, as if it invited her to think too much. Her hands brushed against her exposed arms, and the sensation of the cool air against her skin felt foreign, unsettling. She had spent so long shrouded in her veil, protected from the world’s touch, that this bare openness felt almost intrusive.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, she spoke.
“How did you know?”
Luca turned his head slightly, his dark eyes flicking toward her. “Know what?” he asked, his voice light.
“That I was watching you,” she said, her voice quieter now, tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.
A slow smile spread across Luca’s face as he turned fully toward her, leaning back on one arm. “How could I miss it?” he said smoothly. “When a beautiful girl is looking at me like that? You may not know this, but since I’m pretty handsome, I get a lot of gazes.”
Aeliana blinked, her lips parting in disbelief. Then her mouth twitched, and she couldn’t stop the small scoff that escaped her.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, turning her eyes back to the fire. “You really are full of yourself.”
Luca chuckled, unbothered by her reaction. “Confidence is a virtue, you know,” he said, his smirk never wavering.
Aeliana shook her head, her frustration mingling with a reluctant amusement. But her thoughts lingered on something else he’d said earlier, something that had stuck with her despite the chaos of the moment.
“I, Lucavion, am scared of nothing.”
She glanced at him again, her brow furrowing slightly. “Who’s Lucavion?”
Luca froze for a fraction of a second, his confident smirk faltering just enough for her to notice. He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “A slip of the tongue,” he said quickly, waving a hand dismissively.
Aeliana’s amber eyes narrowed, her suspicion growing. “I don’t think it was,” she said, her tone calm but pointed. “Are you hiding your real name?”
Luca coughed lightly, looking away as if the flames suddenly demanded his full attention. “You’re imagining things,” he said smoothly, though the faintest hint of nervousness crept into his voice. “Luca’s my name, and that’s all there is to it.”
Aeliana tilted her head, studying him carefully. For someone so practiced in exuding confidence, he was remarkably bad at hiding his tells.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she said flatly.
Luca’s head snapped back toward her, his expression shifting into mock offense. “Terrible liar? Me? That hurts. I thought we were bonding here.”
Her lips twitched again, but this time she didn’t bother suppressing the small smirk that followed. “I think you’re hiding something,” she said simply, leaning back slightly. “And I’ll figure it out.”
Luca raised a brow, his smirk returning as he leaned closer, his tone taking on a teasing edge. “Oh? Is that a challenge, little missy?”
Aeliana’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe it is,” she said, her voice steady despite the faint warmth in her face.
The two stared at each other for a moment, the firelight casting flickering shadows across their faces. Then Luca leaned back again, his smirk softening into something more playful.
“Well, good luck with that,” he said lightly, his tone almost sing-song. “But don’t be too disappointed if you find I’m just as mysterious as I am handsome.”
Aeliana rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring briefly before settling into something quieter, more amused.
‘This man,’ she thought, glancing at him again. ‘He’s ridiculous and strange.’
But what was stranger was the fact that she was somehow finding comfort in that strangeness of his.
The fire crackled softly, and just as Aeliana thought the conversation might finally give her some peace, Luca reached into his pack. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a small, plain mug. The kind of thing you’d find in a roadside inn—bland, unadorned, and entirely ordinary.
He extended it toward her with a casual motion, the liquid inside gently steaming. “Here. Drink it.”
Aeliana looked at the mug, her brows furrowing. Compared to the elegant, intricately designed cups she had grown up with, this looked almost… offensive.
Her amber eyes flicked up to Luca’s face. “No,” she said bluntly, her tone as flat as her expression.
Luca blinked, tilting his head. “Why not?”
She wrinkled her nose slightly. “It doesn’t look good.”
He stared at her for a moment before a slow, amused smile spread across his face. “Seriously? You were eating my food like you’d never seen anything better just a few minutes ago, and now you’re worried about how this looks?”
Aeliana stiffened, her cheeks flushing faintly. “That’s not the same thing,” she snapped, her tone sharp and defensive. “I was just hungry! It wasn’t like your food tasted good or anything.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh really? It didn’t taste good?”
“Exactly,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “I’ve eaten much better food before.”
“Uh-huh,” Luca said, clearly unconvinced, leaning back slightly as he observed her with an exaggeratedly patient expression. “Go on, then. Enlighten me, little miss food critic. What was so wrong with my masterpiece?”
Aeliana’s lips parted in surprise, not expecting his response. But the challenge in his tone sparked something in her—a familiarity she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Well,” she began, her voice taking on an unexpectedly serious tone as she straightened up. “First of all, the seasoning was uneven. You didn’t account for the way the spices would cling to the meat, which made some bites too bland and others overpowering.”
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Luca blinked, his smirk faltering slightly.
“And,” Aeliana continued, gesturing lightly with her hand, “the texture was off. You didn’t cut the meat properly, so some parts were chewy, while others were almost dry. That’s a basic mistake.”
Luca opened his mouth to retort, but Aeliana wasn’t finished.
“And don’t get me started on the char marks. The fire was too hot—you didn’t let it cool to a proper cooking temperature. The result was an inconsistent sear that left a faintly burnt aftertaste.”
By now, Luca was staring at her, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You’re… serious, aren’t you?”
Aeliana ignored him, her momentum building. “You also completely ignored the potential of balancing the flavor profile with something acidic. A squeeze of citrus or even a basic glaze would’ve elevated it significantly.”
“Anything else?” Luca asked, his voice caught between bemusement and exasperation.
Aeliana’s expression softened for a brief moment, her tone quieter as she added, “Though I will admit… it wasn’t terrible. For someone who clearly doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
Luca stared at her for a long moment, then burst into laughter, his voice echoing warmly through the cavern.
“What?” Aeliana snapped, her cheeks flushing again.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, still chuckling as he shook his head. “Here I thought I was the dramatic one. Turns out, you’ve got me beat.”
“It’s not dramatic,” she said stiffly, her chin lifting slightly. “I just know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, I can tell,” Luca replied, his grin returning. “What were you, some kind of secret gourmet or something?”
Aeliana hesitated, her expression faltering as a flicker of something nostalgic crossed her face. “Not… secret,” she said quietly, her voice softening. “There was a time when I… enjoyed it. Critiquing food, exploring new flavors. It was one of the few things I could still do when…”
She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her lap as her fingers absently brushed against the edge of her veil.
Luca’s grin faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful look. “When things changed?” he asked gently, his voice lacking its usual teasing lilt.
She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “People used to care about my opinions. At least for a while. But then, when my illness started to show…” Her voice wavered, but she caught herself. “Let’s just say, they stopped caring about what I thought of their cooking.”
Luca was quiet for a moment, watching her carefully. Then he held out the plain mug again, his tone lighter but still steady. “Well, in that case, the least you can do is tell me how bad my tea is.”
Aeliana looked up at him, surprised by the unexpected kindness in his gesture.
“It’s not poisoned,” he added, smirking again. “Probably.”
Her lips twitched, and for a moment, she almost smiled. With a small sigh, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the warm ceramic of the mug.
“I’m not promising anything,” she said, her voice regaining a hint of her usual sharpness.
“That’s the spirit,” Luca replied, leaning back with a satisfied grin.
As she took a tentative sip, the warmth of the tea seeped into her chest, mingling with the faint, unfamiliar comfort of the man sitting across from her.
“Now.”
“Now?”
“When are you going to tell me your name?”