The market square in Lower Denares still smelled of fresh bread, horse sweat, and the sharp sound of iron being hammered somewhere behind the stalls.
Martha wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, checked the last item off Eon’s list- three jars of powdered sulfur, two spools of fine silver wire, a sack of charcoal bricks- and handed the coin pouch back to the vendor with a tired nod.
“Done,” she announced to herself.
Kaelen, leaning against the side of their hired carriage with arms folded, lifted one dark brow. “You sure? Last time you said ‘done’ we had to double back for the flux powder.”
Martha shot him a look that was half glare, half grin. “That was your fault for distracting me with that story about the dwarf who tried to forge a sword out of moonlight.”
Kaelen’s mouth twitched. “He almost succeeded, too. Don’t make fun of a smith just because he failed to achieve it.”
She snorted and climbed up into the carriage first, tossing the last sack of purchases onto the opposite bench. Kaelen followed, ducking his head under the low doorframe, and settled across from her with a long sigh that sounded like relief and exhaustion in equal measure.
The driver cracked the reins. Wheels rattled over stone, then settled into the smoother groan of packed dirt as they left the town behind them and turned onto the eastern road. The Baron of Crestfall’s lands lay only a half-day’s ride away, still technically under Marquess Denares’s banner, but far enough that the market prices for raw ore dropped to something almost reasonable. Kaelen needed high-grade hematite and a few veins of mithril-flecked quartz; the Crestfall mines were the only place in the north side of the kingdom that produced either in decent quantity.
Inside the carriage, the air grew warm and close. Dust drifted in through the half-open window. Martha kicked off her boots, propped her feet on the edge of Kaelen’s bench, and stretched until her spine popped.
“Ughh, my calves are screaming,” she muttered.
Kaelen glanced down at her socked feet, then back up at her face. “You walked the entire market twice. I told you to let the boy haul the heavy stuff.”
“And listen to him complain the whole way? No thanks.” She wiggled her toes. “Besides, you’re the one who’s supposed to be the big strong smith. Why didn’t you carry anything?”
“Because I'll have much more labor waiting for me if I find those things at Baron’s market.” He smirked. “Also, my back’s been hurting since yesterday.”
Martha laughed jokingly. They’d been traveling by horse for two days, but now he says his back hurts.
The carriage rocked gently. Outside, fields rolled past in shades of late-summer green and gold.
“So,” she said after a comfortable silence, “you ever think about what happens when all this is over?”
Kaelen tilted his head. “All what?”
She waved a hand vaguely. “You know, this. Eon’s recue mission’s, and finding a safe haven for the elves?!”
He considered the question longer than she expected. Finally he shrugged one shoulder. “I try not to think that far. Planning too hard makes my head hurt.”
Martha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like I believe you.”
“Come on, I’m just a Realist,” he corrected mildly. Then, quieter: “Truth is, I haven’t had a forge of my own in years. Not a proper one. If things settle… maybe I’ll find a quiet valley somewhere. Build a place with a big chimney and no neighbors for ten miles. Hammer steel until my arms fall off.”
She studied him. “You’d get bored inside a month.”
“Probably.” He flashed a crooked grin. “But at least I’d be bored and warm.”
Martha laughed again. The sound felt easier now than it used to. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You know what I’d do?”
“Tell me.”
“I’d buy the biggest damn bathtub in the kingdom. One of those copper ones big enough to drown in. Hot water with Soap that smells nice. And I’d soak until my fingers look like raisins and nobody’s allowed to bother me for at least three days.”
Kaelen’s brows climbed. “That’s your grand plan? A bath?”
“Hey, It’s going to be a very good bath,” she said primly. “And after that… maybe I’d find someone to scrub my back.”
The words hung there a second longer than she meant them to.
Kaelen’s grin turned slower, more deliberate. “Careful, Martha. That almost sounded like an invitation.”
She felt heat crawl up her neck but refused to look away. “Maybe it was.”
He let out a low whistle. “Bold today, aren’t we?”
“You started it with the moonlight-sword story,” she shot back. “Don’t pretend you’re innocent.”
“I’m never innocent,” he said, voice dropping half an octave. “But I’m usually smarter than this.”
Their eyes locked. The carriage hit a rut; they both swayed. Neither looked away.
Martha’s pulse felt loud in her ears. “You’re thinking too hard again.”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward until their faces were only a foot apart. “Or maybe I’m thinking exactly the right amount.”
She licked her lips. “And what’s the right amount?”
“Enough to know this is a terrible idea,” he murmured, “and not enough to stop me from wanting to do it anyway.”
For one heartbeat she thought he might actually close the distance.
Then the carriage lurched hard over a stone, and they both jolted apart, laughing at the timing like guilty teenagers.
“God-damn roads,” Kaelen muttered, rubbing his elbow where it had banged the wall.
Martha pressed a hand to her chest, still grinning. “Saved by poor maintenance.”
“Lucky us.”
The rest of the ride passed in half-finished jokes and charged glances. The air inside the carriage stayed thick with possibility.
By the time they rolled through Crestfall town’s gates, the sky had bled to twilight, stars piercing the dark like scattered embers. The village was little more than a cluster of mining shacks; the only inn, a ramshackle place called Oval’s, had a lonely lantern swinging above the door. A skinny boy with soot-streaked cheeks swept the porch, pausing to squint at their carriage.
Kaelen paid the driver and hauled their saddlebags over one shoulder while Martha handled the rooms. Two singles, side by side on the second floor.
She took the stairs first, keys jingling in her hand. The wood groaned under her boots. When she pushed open the door to number seven, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
A second later, she stumbled back into the hall so fast she nearly tripped.
Kaelen was halfway up the steps, weight shifting as he turned to see her face. “What?”
Martha pointed at the open doorway, jaw tight. “There’s something…oh gods, it’s huge.”
He stepped past her, ducked inside, and returned thirty seconds later, wiping the bottom of his boot on the runner. “Squashed it. You’re safe now.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her elbows. “I hate cockroaches. Ugh, I swear I can still hear it crunching.”
“You’re shaking.” Kaelen studied her, lips quirking. “For someone who carried sacks of sulfur all afternoon, you sure turn into a delicate flower over one small bug. Haha. ”
“It was the size of my fist!” She glared at him. “And stop laughing. This is serious.”
“Right, right.” He held up his hands in surrender, then hesitated. “Look, if you’re really that scared… you could always bunk with me tonight. My room’s probably cleaner.”
The words hung between them.
Martha froze. Not angry. Not amused. Just staring at him like he’d suddenly spoken a language she didn’t understand.
Kaelen realized too late how that sounded, in the dim hallway, with only one flickering lantern between them and two closed doors waiting.
‘Shit.’
“I meant, you know…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Never mind. Forget I said it. I’ll sleep in the stable. Or set fire to every bug in this building. Your call.”
He turned to leave.
Martha caught his sleeve.
His pulse jumped. “Yeah?”
She let go, but didn’t step back. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“And that was a terrible line.”
“I know that too.” He exhaled sharply. “But in my defense, I thought you were actually afraid of the roach, not….”
“You….,” she interrupted. “You got me all wound up with that stupid back-scrubbing talk in the carriage and then just… walked away like it was nothing?” She shook her head. “That’s cruel.”
Kaelen blinked. Slowly. “Wait. You’re… mad because I apologized?”
“I’m mad because you said something that made my stomach flip,” she snapped, “and then acted like it was a mistake the second it left your mouth.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not some fragile flower, Kaelen. I’ve been flirting with you all day. If you’re going to start something, at least have the balls to finish it.”
His throat worked. “You sure?”
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m tired of pretending I’m not thinking about it.”
The silence between them felt like a promise.
Kaelen let out a slow breath, half laughter, half surrender, and pushed open his own door. “After you.”
Martha stepped inside. The room smelled of woodsmoke and lanolin, the bed narrow enough to feel intimate if shared. A single candle flickered on the washstand, casting long shadows.
She turned back to him in the doorway.
Kaelen stayed where he was, one hand braced on the frame, watching her with an intensity that made her skin hum.
“You coming in,” she asked, “or do I have to drag you?”
There was a beat of hesitation in Kaelen’s mind. But then the door clicked shut behind him.
Downstairs, the innkeeper yawned, turned the key in the lock, and thought nothing more of the two travelers who’d checked into rooms side by side.
Upstairs, no one spoke for a long while.