Chapter 30: A Night’s Respite
Elandra's twilight skies painted the cobblestones in hues of amber and rose. Lanterns flickered one by one as lamplighters made their evening rounds, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the cooler breeze from the nearby hills. The city was winding down, its pulse slowing with the setting sun.
Inigo walked alongside Lyra, hands in his coat pockets, his steps matching hers as if they'd done this a hundred times before. The sound of their boots echoed softly across the plaza stones, a rhythm that felt oddly... peaceful.
It wasn't a mission. It wasn't an ambush. It wasn't survival.
It was dinner.
"This way," Inigo said with a small nod, motioning toward a warmly lit building just past the plaza fountain. Vines clung to its brickwork façade, and the iron-wrought sign swayed gently above the door: La Ferrine's.
The same place he had brought Elise. But tonight felt different. Tonight wasn't about politics or reports.
Lyra stopped just outside, eyes scanning the stained-glass windows, the glow from within reflecting on her pale silver hair. "This place looks... expensive."
"It's not cheap," Inigo admitted, holding the door open for her. "But after what we just went through, I figured you deserve more than dry rations and reheated stew."
She gave him a look—part amused, part reluctant—and stepped inside.
The interior was just as he remembered. Candlelit chandeliers dangled from arched ceilings, soft violin music played in the background, and the air was thick with the aroma of roasted game, buttered root vegetables, and aged wine. A hostess led them to a private table near the corner, tucked beside a window draped in deep crimson curtains.
They sat down, menus opening between them. Lyra took a moment to soak it all in—her gaze lingering on the polished wood, the velvet seat, the silver cutlery. Her hands looked out of place here, more used to gripping a bowstring than holding a wine glass.