The restaurant was a welcome reprieve from the bustling energy of the market. The interior was built from thick, cool river stone that seemed to soak up the heat of the day, and the air smelled faintly of dried herbs and roasting meat. I didn't even wait for a host to seat us; I moved straight to a secluded booth in the far corner, tucked away from the main walkway.
"A cold drink, right now! Whatever you have that's iced, just make it quick!" I called out to a passing server, my voice sharp with a protective urgency. I didn't care if I seemed blunt; my focus was entirely on the girl sitting across from me who looked like she was about to catch fire.
I sat down right next to her instead of across the table, leaning in so I could keep a close eye on her. "Elphyete, talk to me," I said, my brow furrowed as I watched the vivid red hue of her ears. "Are you feeling well? Your temperature was through the roof out there. If you're feeling dizzy or if that 'weather' is still hitting you, we're heading straight back."
She finally peeked out from behind her hands, her silver hair a bit messy from being carried. She looked at me, her eyes wide and shimmering with an emotion I couldn't quite pin down. The steam had stopped rising from her ears, but she still looked incredibly flustered. She took a slow, shallow breath, trying to regain her composure in the cool shade of the stone room.
"I'm fine, Sogha... really," she whispered. Her voice was soft, but it didn't have that frantic, panicked edge it had a few minutes ago. She looked down at the wooden table, tracing the grain with a trembling finger. "I'm just... I'm glad that I'm with you."
I blinked, the confusion in my head only deepening. I was still convinced she was suffering from some strange, sudden illness, but the way she said that—with such a small, genuine smile—made it hard to keep asking medical questions. I stayed close, our shoulders nearly brushing, making sure she had enough space to breathe while remaining within arm's reach.
"Well, I'm glad I'm with you too, but you scared me," I said, my voice softening as I realized she wasn't actually about to collapse. "I thought you were having a reaction to something in the market."
"No," she murmured, her ears twitching. "It wasn't the market."
The server returned then, placing a tall, condensation-covered glass filled with chilled blue-nectar juice and crushed ice on the table. The cold mist clinging to the glass was a relief just to look at. Elphyete reached for it, her fingers wrapping around the frozen glass, and she let out a long, relieved sigh as the chill began to work its way through her system.
She took a long sip, the redness in her cheeks finally starting to fade into a much more manageable pink. The restaurant was quiet, the heavy walls muffling the shouts of the vendors outside. For a moment, the embarrassment that had nearly overwhelmed her seemed to settle into a quiet, comfortable warmth. We sat there in the corner, the world outside forgotten, just the two of us in the cool shadows.
I picked up the menu, which was a heavy, leather-bound folder with pages made of thick, cream-colored parchment. The names of the dishes were written in elegant, looping ink, listing everything from slow-roasted forest game to savory stews thickened with rare mountain herbs. I scanned the list, my eyes bouncing between the various options, trying to figure out what might actually taste good after a morning of high-tension training and "fever" scares.
"What would you like to order, Elphyete?" I asked, tilting the menu toward her so she could see.
She didn't even glance at the pages. Her hands were still wrapped around her cold drink, and she was looking at me with those wide, shimmering eyes, the red in her ears having finally settled into a soft, permanent pink. "Anything you want," she murmured, her voice sounding small and content.
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. It was typical of her to be so indecisive when it came to herself, always deferring to whatever I preferred. I closed the menu with a dull thud and signaled the waiter over.
"We'll have two of the best dish you've got," I told the server. "Whatever the chef is most proud of, just bring it out."
The waiter nodded respectfully and hurried off toward the kitchen. I leaned back in the stone-carved booth, watching the condensation drip down the side of Elphyete's glass. The restaurant was starting to fill up as the lunch rush began, but in our corner, it still felt like we were in our own world.
"You're too easygoing sometimes," I said, looking back at her. "You should have picked something you actually liked. What if the 'best dish' is something you hate?"
Elphyete finally looked up, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I don't think I'll hate it if you're the one who ordered it, Sogha."
She took another sip of her drink, looking much more relaxed now that the "weather" had passed. We sat there in the cool, dimly lit space, the muffled sounds of the marketplace outside providing a background hum to our conversation.
A few minutes later, the waiter returned with two large, steaming platters. It was a masterpiece of a meal—thick cuts of tender, honey-glazed meat resting on a bed of roasted root vegetables, garnished with aromatic greens and served with a side of crusty, herb-infused bread. The scent alone was enough to make my stomach growl, reminding me that even though Vael had restored our energy, he hadn't exactly filled our bellies.
Elphyete's eyes lit up as she saw the food. She picked up her utensils, but she waited for me to take the first bite, her gaze lingering on my face as if she were waiting for my approval of the "surprise" best dish.
The moment Elphyete took her first bite, a soft, involuntary sound escaped her throat—a small hum of pure delight that made her ears twitch with satisfaction. She didn't say anything, but the way her eyes widened and her pace picked up told me everything I needed to know. She had clearly forgotten all about her earlier embarrassment, now entirely focused on the perfect balance of the honey-glazed meat and the savory roasted vegetables.
I followed suit, cutting a piece of the tender meat and tasting it. It was incredible. The outside was crisp and sweet, while the center practically melted, releasing a rich, smoky flavor that felt like it was recharging my very soul. We sat there in a rare, focused silence, the only sounds being the light clinking of our cutlery against the ceramic plates and the steady hum of the other patrons in the background.
It didn't take long for the first two platters to be wiped completely clean. I looked at Elphyete, who was looking at her empty plate with a hint of genuine sadness, and then back at the waiter.
"Another round," I said, gesturing to the empty dishes. "Exactly the same as before."
The waiter looked a bit surprised—most people found one serving of the "best dish" more than enough—but he nodded and hurried off. When the second set of steaming platters arrived, we didn't hesitate. We dove back in with just as much enthusiasm as the first time. There was something deeply satisfying about sitting there in the cool shade, away from the expectations of the A1 class, just enjoying a meal that was actually meant to be enjoyed, not just consumed for energy.
By the time we finished the second round, I felt a heavy, pleasant fullness settling in. Elphyete leaned back in the stone booth, a look of absolute bliss on her face. The vivid red in her ears had faded into a soft, healthy glow, and she looked more relaxed than I had seen her all day.
"That... was the best decision you've made today, Sogha," she whispered, patting her stomach lightly. "I don't think I could eat another bite if I tried."
"You say that now," I teased, leaning back as well. "But I saw how fast you were going on that second plate. I thought I was going to have to fight you for the last bit of bread."
She laughed—a genuine, lighthearted sound that made the remaining tension in the room vanish completely. "I was just making sure it didn't go to waste! It would be a crime to leave even a crumb of that behind."
We stayed in the booth for a while longer, letting the food settle. The cool draft from the window was perfect, and for the first time in a long time, my mind wasn't racing with thoughts of training, "Errors," or the strange weight of my mother's necklace. It was just a quiet afternoon in a good restaurant with someone I actually wanted to be with.
Eventually, the lunch rush started to thin out, and the light outside the window began to shift into a deeper, golden hue. We couldn't stay in the booth forever, even if the stone walls were comfortably cool.