“I’m used to being the one who does the thinking,” Lorzok said, and that dissolved a knot Kell had been carrying since last night.
“Someone with wisdom for once,” Nobble said. “Nobble never thought the day would come when this scapegrace would meet someone handsome and wise, good orc.”
“That is kind of you to say,” Lorzok said. “But we’re all handsome, are we not?”
Nobble stopped. She turned around and examined Jubilee before she nodded and turned that attention to Kell.
“Nobble accepts your correction. They are handsome. But Nobble will reserve judgment on wisdom until wisdom is shown. Saeldian should marry a nice druid like you, but you’re probably too smart to step in that trap.”
Jubilee bristled. “What are you trying to say about my friend, Nobble?”
Kell spoke quickly. “Forgive us. We really are in trouble, and any assistance we can give Archfey Osalor in mending the protections is freely given, but I fear it must be swift.”
Saeldian said nothing in return as Nobble let them in, grumbling the whole while. Kell had to fight not to stare at them. Saeldian, accepting abuse? Disrespect? They looked at the gleaming white stone floor and followed, meek and quiet. Or afraid.
Nobble led them into the first room of Osalor’s fantastical glass house and held up her hand. “Wait here. Don’t touch anything. Nobble will know.”
There were benches among the fabulous clutter of old climbing roses, flanked by potted orange trees in bloom and a polished brass armillary sphere—did it track the wandering stars of Toril, or some other plane?
Jubilee sat at a table with two wrought silver chairs that held a lanceboard, the pieces still in the early game. The black queen, carved from shining obsidian—Shar, back in Faerûn—rested on the edge of the board with the white quartz king in check and unable to castle.
Saeldian didn’t move to sit. They took three careful, deliberate breaths, and then their hair untangled, all their tumbling curls perfect and shiny. They twisted it up with nimble fingers, and it knotted around a silver rod, tendrils falling carelessly loose around their changing face. Saeldian preferred a countenance that didn’t let anyone decide if that beauty was a man’s or a woman’s. Kell watched Saeldian adjust the face that they had perfected over the years from elf-human to more elven. A little sharper, with longer ears and the delicate, subtle angles that made an elf distinct.
Their ensemble grew and changed into a gambeson made of studded leather leaves, every buckle an apple blossom, with a shiny embossed gorget that rose to their chin. They stood straight and waited for Osalor in utter silence.
Kell tugged on his jerkin before he noticed he was doing it. “Are you all right?”
Saeldian kept their attention focused on the archway leading deeper into the house. “Your timing with handling Nobble was perfect. I’m glad to see you still have the dazzle in you.”
That was a thanks, Feywild style, and Kell swatted away the warmth of it. He’d stood up for them for the sake of the team because Saeldian couldn’t handle it. That was all.
But before he could choose coarseness or courtesy, the air changed.
The doors parted to welcome the lord of this domain, and the air smelled like roses and rare incense before he crossed the threshold. Kell fought the gasp, but he couldn’t help but stare.
The name Osalor the Beguiling was an understatement. He was incredible. So ethereal, Kell had to check to make sure Osalor’s feet actually touched the floor (they did, resting in gleaming silver-toed slippers). He looked like he was born from moonlight and learned to dance before he could walk. One moment of his regard would leave Kell dazed for a tenday.
But every bit of Osalor’s attention was on Saeldian, who couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
He tilted his head. “The leaf pockets are clever, and they don’t disturb the line too much. But bring that gorget up higher, almost like a bevor…yes. Higher in the back…ah!Menacing.And itforces your shoulders into the correct angle. You’re getting better at this. But…”
Saeldian adjusted their armor instantly and waited while Osalor dissected their choices. They used to begoodat illusions and disguises, but now Kell would bet that no one in Faerûn was better. Saeldian looked fey. They looked dangerous. Their armor, their level gaze, and their dark, dark eyes made them gorgeous and terrible and starlight perfect.
Osalor’s eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips. “You look tired.”
Their complexion brightened. The shadows under their eyes vanished.
Kell pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It had been a criticism, not a concerned observation, and Saeldian’s reaction from the heist when they couldn’t hold their altered self while the two of them were trapped in their shadows clicked into place.
Saeldian’s natural face was not ugly—not even close. But compared to the uncanny perfection they masked themself with—and inspected by the most breathtaking person Kell had ever seen—Saeldian’s natural face didn’t meet Osalor’s standard.
Kell couldn’t punch an archfey. He couldn’t even shade his polite conversation with scorn. And Saeldian would not thank him if he did.
Osalor’s musing finally became a smile. “My dear protégé. To see you again at last, here before me—”
He opened his arms. Saeldian stepped into his invitation, and when his arms closed around their back, they relaxed—only to have to tense back into poised balance as Osalor withdrew to face a window.
Kell should not even think these thoughts right now. If Osalor noticed, that would be unfortunate. Jubilee’s face was a drawn-back fist before she covered it. Lorzok pointed his disapproval at the floor while he gathered his calm.
