She didn’t deny it. Instead, she met his eyes, her own steady despite the turmoil within. "Everyone is allowed to be afraid sometimes, Colonel. Even Paladins."
He tilted his head, ears flicking. "Indeed, fear is the shadow to valor’s light. But cowardice? That should not be an acceptable trait in men."
"But I am a woman."
Colonel Charcoal hissed softly, a low rumble in his throat, and extended a claw to lightly scratch her forearm. Not deep, but enough to draw a thin line of blood that welled up like crimson ink. "You know precisely what I mean, you obstinate grape! Cease your deflections."
Meredith winced but held still, the scratch a petty reminder of his feline temperament. He retracted his claws and sat back on his haunches, tail curling around his paws.
"Life Wardens do not manifest lightly, Meredith. We appear only to those who meet our exacting criteria, guided by the Fairies of Aspia. Mine was singular: to bond with a human possessing the potential to become the strongest in all of Aspia. The Fairies led me through mists and mirrors to you. You may not be the crème of the crop today–far from it–but good wine takes years to ferment. In barrels. Sturdy, well-crafted barrels that have been seasoned and treated with care. You may be a grape with ideal potential, brimming with the sugars of destiny, but you need a barrel, dear, to age into something exquisite. House May could well be that vessel."
His words hung in the air, awkward in their delivery, as if compliments were foreign territory for the stoic creature. He shifted his weight, paws kneading the floor.
"And strength aside... You are... a fine woman, Meredith. Those fools at the Order are unpleasant towards you simply because they do not understand you, and you, in turn, wish not to be understood by such narrow minds. But today, you have found one willing to glimpse just a fraction of what I see in you. The fire beneath the steel. It would be foolish, utterly foolish, to squander such an opportunity."
Meredith’s throat tightened, the vulnerability in his voice mirroring her own hidden depths. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and pulled him into an embrace. Colonel Charcoal stiffened at first, his body rigid as a bowstring, unaccustomed to such overt affection. A low growl escaped him, more surprise than protest, but she held firm, her fingers burying into his silken fur. Slowly, he relaxed, his head resting against her shoulder, and a deep, resonant purring vibrated through his chest, soothing like a hearth’s warmth on a winter night.
They remained like that for what felt like an eternity, the hug stretching as the tension ebbed from her muscles. Meredith felt the day’s wounds ache less acutely, the shallow cuts from training spars, the bruises from the brawl she’d broken up earlier, even the scratch placed upon her by her dear pet. With a murmur of ancient words, Colonel Charcoal invoked a healing spell, simple for him but a marvel of high-level magic to any mortal mage. Golden light bloomed from his hidden third eye, seeping into her skin like liquid sunlight, knitting flesh and mending muscles with effortless grace. The scratches and bruises on her body faded to nothing, and a profound warmth spread through her, chasing away fatigue.
He pulled back eventually, shaking himself with a feline flourish. "Now bathe, dear. You smell like a Paladin. And do something with that hair of yours. You look every inch the armored zealot, which will hardly entice your potential sponsor."
Meredith sighed, a long, exasperated exhale, but there was fondness in it. "Can you not be nice for longer than three minutes, Colonel?"
"This is me being nice," he retorted, his tone dry as desert sands. "You do not want to scare off your potential sponsors with that battlefield aura. Ah, and wear fragrance. Nothing woodsy or leathery. I know your tastes all too well. There’s a fine perfumer just down the lane. You’ll know it because the Fairies love to loiter there. I can have them show you the way if you can’t find it. They have some delightful berry scents there. Mulberry and wild raspberry, perhaps?"
She arched an eyebrow, standing to unbuckle her armor. "I’ll smell like a little girl sneaking berry tarts from the kitchens."
"You’ll smell like someone trying to attract male attention," he countered, his golden eyes glinting with mischief.
"I-I am not!" she protested, though her cheeks warmed at the implication.
Colonel Charcoal’s tail flicked. "Oh? Then why did your eyes light up when speaking of Lloyd? You didn’t need to tell me he was handsome. Twice, I might add. That’s the young man occupying old Isabella’s house for the time being, correct? She’s said great things about him in our chats. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort you put in for him."
Meredith’s face flushed deeper, a crimson tide she couldn’t will away. She turned toward the bathing chamber, a small alcove with a copper tub.
"M-Mind your business, you meddlesome feline,x she said, her voice steady but laced with embarrassment as she began to prepare for the bath, the steam already rising in anticipation.
The water filled the tub with a soothing gurgle, tendrils of vapor curling upward like inviting whispers. Meredith stripped off the last of her undergarments, the cool air raising gooseflesh on her skin, and stepped into the warmth, sinking down until it lapped at her chin. The heat seeped into her bones, loosening knots she hadn’t realized were there, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the sensation... the way the water cradled her like a lover’s arms, gentle and unforgiving of flaws.
But as she reached for the soap, a sliver of scented lavender, her mind wandered back to Lloyd’s face in the tavern light, his smile earnest and unassuming. The blush returned, unbidden, and she splashed water over her face to dispel it. Colonel Charcoal’s words echoed: a barrel to age in. Potential. But what if the barrel cracked under pressure? What if House May’s offer was a mirage, shimmering just out of reach?