Chapter Text
The problem with chickens was that however adorable they were, they weren’t clever enough to go back to the coop unless they heard the bell. Which meant that now that it was nearing 8 p.m., and Iris was far from her farm, she had to hightail it back at a pace that could barely be called walking. Hopefully, Hayden would notice her absence, as he did the previous times, and ring the bell in her stead.
Actually, maybe she should hope he wouldn’t notice. If he did, that would make it the third time, and at some point she imagined he’d take the chickens back. Ban her from owning any animal, even.
Even with that worry at the forefront of her mind, Iris paid enough attention to her surroundings to realize when she wasn’t alone anymore.
The noise caught her attention first: wheels crunching in the dirt, the creak of wood, the nearing clopping of a horse. When she threw a glance over her shoulder, she spotted with little surprise Balor’s wagon. She’d learned by now that when he wasn’t seen around town, like today, it usually meant he was out trading goods.
Balor waved at her when he recognized her. Then, as he drew closer, he slowed down until he came to a stop next to her.
“Hello there. Heading home?” When she nodded, he patted the seat next to him. “Would you like a ride back?”
At this time of the year, the days were hot and sticky, and the evenings little better. The idea of respite made Iris push a discrete sigh of relief. Still, she hesitated.
“But isn’t your horse too tired to bear another person?” She gestured to the animal.
“She’ll be fine, the wagon’s mostly full of light weighted items. And you’re just one person, you’re not that heavy. Come on.”
“Are you implying my hard-won muscles aren’t even noticeable?” she deadpanned. “What a waste.”
Though he merely chuckled in response, she caught the way his eyes followed the lines of her body as she swung herself up onto the wooden bench. He took the reins back in his hands, which is when she realized he had been shuffling over to help her up and she’d ignored him. Oops.
“Thank you for this,” she said when he spurred the horse along.
He waved her off. “No problem. We’re going the same way; it’s no sweat off my back.”
She hummed. “Coming back from a supply run?” She squinted up at the sky, trying to guess the hour by the position of the sun. Her chickens would be okay, right?
“I met with a few regular contacts in another town, not too far. One of them sold most of the bedding you see at the Inn; Jo asked me to get some extras.”
“This town is lucky to have you.”
Balor threw her a quick look, head titled to the side. “Thank you.”
“Why are you surprised? It’s true.”
“Well,” he said, shaking his head despite his smile, “I think you’re ascribing me intentions far better than my own.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”
That made him laugh. “You should. I like the braids, by the way.”
“Oh. Thank you.” A little self-conscious, she raised a hand to her head, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her cap at home. Because of the length of her hair, her twin braids were short, barely brushing past her shoulders, and the dye was getting old, her auburn roots clashing where they peaked through the pink dye. “It’s convenient in the heat. And it does make me look more like a farmer.”
“If you’re aiming for that, you could add a straw hat.”
She hummed. “I should ask Louis.”
“I’m sure he’ll be able to help. So why were you all the way out here?”
“I was looking for a flower.” Her mouth twisted to the side. “Still haven’t found it.”
“A flower? Which one? Maybe I can help.”
“It’s a…” She paused, before admitting with a snort: “I can’t remember the name. You’d have to ask Celine.”
“She likely knows. Was she the one to ask you to find it?”
“Yeah. Sadly, I’m bad with flowers.”
“That can’t be true.” He twisted in his seat to look at her, eyebrows raised. “You asked me for a really advanced text on flowers the other week.”
She blinked, surprised he remembered. As the main supplier of the town, he had lists and lists of requests every time he went to the capital; Iris’s rare orders only one in many. “I did, but that’s because my mother wrote it.”
“Your mother?”
“Yeah. She does a lot of research on botany, mostly flowers, and then she writes books that I can’t understand.”
“She doesn’t send you copies?”
“I have no head for the subject, so she says I don’t have to read them.”
“But you still buy them,” he said, his tone wondering.
“Of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated in a murmur, smiling. He turned quiet as they came to a crossroads, focused on picking the right turn, before they picked up the pace again. “And you say you know nothing about flowers?”
“I know the basics. What you can eat, what will kill you. Survival stuff every traveller should know.”
“Yet you’re a farmer now. And I know you’re not faking it, since I’m the one emptying your shipping bin every night.”
She grimaced. “Growing fruits and vegetables is different.”
“Is it?” Balor was clearly skeptical but decided to let it slide. “I have no green thumb, so I couldn’t say.”
“Flowers are much more delicate and fussy.”
“It takes a special hand, I see. Then, if your mother is a botanist, how did you end up in the Adventurer’s Guild? Your father?”
“Well—Yes, but it doesn’t always happen that way. Is someone in your family a merchant?”
“Oh, no, I picked up the trade myself.” Having handed that kernel of personal information, he immediately switched the conversation back to her. “So your father is also in the guild.”
She nodded, only to feel embarrassed when she realized Balor, with his eyes on the road, couldn’t see the motion. “Yeah.”
“You must feel the distance acutely at times.”
“It’s fine, I’m used to being away for long periods.”
“So you’ve travelled before?”
“Yes, but not as much as you.” The hardest part about talking with Balor was that his reluctance to speak about himself always made her spill more about herself in turn. Sometimes he felt like a feral cat with which she had to tread with caution, setting down hints that she wanted to know more about him and hoping he would indulge her instead of fleeing.
“It is the lot of merchants, after all. I can’t be successful if I stop moving.”
“And how do you find Mistria so far?”
“Turning back on me the question everyone has been asking you, I see.” Balor chuckled. He threw her a glance, his hair swaying with the motion. “It’s undeniably a charming place, and a wonderful opportunity for people like you and me.”
Iris frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I know it has the potential to become so much more. And by getting my foot in early, I too can expand my future possibilities. Don’t you want to do the same?
“And what do you expect me to earn by farming?” she asked, half challenge, half genuine curiosity.
“With everything you’ve been doing, I’d say money, of course. But you can also make a name for yourself, and then move on to bigger fish.”
Iris pursed her lips. Maybe Balor was right; even so, she was more interested in putting down roots than making a fortune. Still, because she wasn’t in the mood to debate, all she said was: “There’s work to be done for many more years.”
“Right. We’ll have to see what the future has in store for us.”
In reply, she hummed, and they rode on in silence for a moment before Balor broke it.
“I wonder what soup Reina made today,” he mused. “I’m starting to get awfully hungry.”
“Haven’t had dinner yet?”
“I don’t have anything on me.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have wanted to stop even if I did.”
She quickly peeked into her bag. “I have some granola bars left… if you don’t mind them squished.” When she caught his hesitation, she added, “They’re not that squished. And I can drive for a bit.”
He gave a sort of startled laugh. “Well, with that generous of an offer, I can’t refuse. Thank you.” He exchanged the reins for her food, and smiled when he unwrapped it. “You’re right, they still mostly hold their shape.”
Balor hadn’t lied when he’d said he was hungry; he scarfed down the granola bars, crumbs and all, in a matter of minutes. They switched again, Iris taking back the wrapping to stuff it back into her bag.
“Thank you,” he said again. “You’re a very helpful person to have around.”
“Says the person giving me a ride for free.”
“Oh? I never said this was for free.”
“Hmm.” She made a show of taking out her coin purse. “How much do you want?”
As she expected, he immediately refused. “I couldn’t ask for Tessarae for something like this.”
Resisting the urge to push him was impossible. She leaned in, making sure to hold his gaze. “Then how will you let me pay you, Balor?”
His lips parted, a line tugging straight at her stomach. With a start, only then did she realize the implication of her words.
“Would a favour do?” Okay, bad word. She stared hard at the ground rolling under their feet like it could whisper to her the right answer. “Like… giving a hand with your goods.” Not much better. “Or shipping something specific.” Uninspired, but it would do.
As she spoke, Balor’s face shifted between emotions, too fast for her to parse through. Still, she could tell she’d made him awkward, his hands flexing on the reins.
“It’s alright. With all you’ve been doing for the town, you’ve also been helping my business. I’m only repaying the favour.”
“Like I said, I’m simply a farmer now,” she insisted. “The odd jobs I’ve been taking care of on the side don’t amount to much.”
He shook his head. “I doubt anyone in town would agree with you on this. It may seem little to you, but to them, you wrought an entire transformation.” He cut her a look. “And everyone can see how much effort you’ve been expending.”
And yet it never felt enough.
“I’m just doing what I can, using what I have. My body is a tool.” Iris paused, mentally cursed her brain for being so scrambled. “That came out weird. I didn’t mean for, like, seduction.”
Balor’s laugh curled a little wild at the edges. “I know what you mean, don’t worry. At the end of the day, we can count on ourselves, for better and for worse.”
“Right,” she said.
“I know that as long as I have myself and my wagon,” he said as he patted the bench, “I can turn any situation to my advantage.”
She slouched, cupping her chin in her hands to hide a smile. “Or to turn it to everyone’s benefit.”
He clucked his tongue. “Again with that. I’m just a good merchant.”
“Of course. And the fact that you’re helping everyone else is pure coincidence.”
“Well, if the fruits of my labour are so prolific as to be shared, it means I’m doing my job correctly.” He threw her a look, then another, this time his eyes a little round. He seemed to have trouble focusing on the road. “Are you laughing at me?”
Iris realized she’d straightened, letting her grin show.
“Not exactly,” she replied, cocking her head to the side. “It’s fascinating to hear your perception of yourself. It’s not at all how I see you.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“Do we?”
He set out to demonstrate how, exactly, he could be ruthless in his deals by describing past cases that didn’t actually prove his point. Iris only nodded along until he cut himself off with a groan.
“And I’m rambling, aren’t I. You can interrupt me.”
“You can ramble with me, I don’t mind.” She caught his dubious look. “Honest. I always enjoy listening to you.”
His lips tugged into a wide disarming smile. “Yeah?”
“I swear.” She put a hand to her heart, solemn, just to see his eyes crinkle at the corners.
Balor opened his mouth, but at the same time a loud snap resounded in front of them. Reflexes had Iris coiling, her hand on the pommel of her sword and ready to leap into action, but there was no danger: part of the reins had simply broken off. Balor had been lucky his end hadn’t hit him when it had snapped.
Immediately, he tugged at the remaining part to halt the horse. Then he rubbed at his face, exhaling deeply.
“This had to happen now, when we’re so close to Mistria.” Composure regained, Balor turned to Iris to give her a reassuring smile. “Luckily, I always keep extra rope with me. It should be at arm’s reach. Hold on.”
When she nodded, he leaned in to raise the flap of the wagon, then shifted closer yet to start searching.
“Sorry about this,” he said, now so close she caught the strain in his voice. His breath hit her collarbone, prompting from her a shiver she barely managed to repress. “I may have… miscalculated the distance.”
Then he stretched even further, which meant that he was now exhaling slightly above her ear (which was better) but also that she had an excellent view of his chest, especially since he’d left half of his shirt unbuttoned (which was worse). She averted her eyes, realized they’d darted back to their starting point, and, chewing the inside of her lip, stared down at her knees. Hopefully, the proximity wasn’t allowing him to hear her pulse quickening.
“It’s okay,” she replied, a few seconds late, playing statue as if the brush of his body would burn hers. He had splayed a hand on the bench between them to keep his balance, and though it didn’t come in contact with her thigh at all, she could swear she felt its heat radiating through her clothes.
Not long after that he finally found what he was looking for. Who knew how long it had taken him—Iris certainly didn’t.
With a quiet noise of triumph that she would absolutely, definitely forget one day, Balor finally straightened and scooted back.
“Again, sorry about that,” he said.
Resisting the urge to clear her throat, she forced herself to smile. “It’s fine.”
It was hard not to fidget under his gaze; he still sat too close, and Balor’s attention always felt more tangible than others’, somehow, like the appraisal he did for his work extended to the ability to read more in people. It coaxed from her some form of nervous energy, a part of her perking up, eager to indulge in his presence.
“As long as you’re okay,” He breathed. His eyes dipped lower. To her… mouth?
She nodded. Forced herself to stop biting her lip.
“You could have asked me to grab the rope instead,” she said, aiming for teasing, unsure where it landed.
“It would have been smarter,” he agreed, his gaze finally pulling away. “Now then, let’s see what I can cobble with this,” he said, and swung down the wagon to go and fiddle with the rein.
With Balor’s attention directed elsewhere, Iris found it easier to think. No, she had to have imagined things. He wasn’t looking at her mouth. It was getting dark and she was tired.
Iris was self-aware enough to know she was an acquired taste; the last person to get interested in her had treated her like an exotic creature at times, a distraction he could indulge in to pretend his life was more thrilling than it actually was. Eventually her unpredictability had annoyed him, and so had all the times he’d peeled her clothes off to find her battered and bruised.
In the year since that relationship had fallen apart, she’d hoped she’d learned her lesson enough to know people like Balor didn’t notice people like her. He’d want a pretty woman who could tell stories as interesting as his, not a quiet sword-for-hire with more scars than grace.
Yet here she was, hanging onto his every word and wondering if she was imagining the slowly decreasing space between them.
“Here we go,” Balor called, his hands testing one more time the knot in the makeshift reins. He gave his patient horse a quick pat before he settled back into his seat. “Let’s go back to town now.”
They started off yet again. Silence enveloped them, thick from more than the humidity in the air. Iris started redoing her braids to keep her hands busy, wishing she could find words to trigger another amicable conversation, anything to stop her mind from replaying the moment Balor had spent in her personal space. The evening felt colder now, and she couldn’t fool herself into thinking it wasn’t because she was craving his proximity again.
She stared at the clearing intensely, casting for a topic, coming up with nothing. Despite that, she was so distracted she gave a startled oh when the corner they turned revealed saw a pond in the distance, calm waters shimmering under pinpricks of light.
“Everything okay?” Balor asked.
“I always forget how many fireflies come out here,” she said. Her tinge of embarrassment quickly vanished under another wave of wonder as they drew closer to the pond.
As dusk approached, more and more fireflies were appearing, their flickers echoing the orange stripes lining the sky above. They seemed like they were dancing to the chorus of the frogs, the shadowed trees crowded around the water their silent spectators as the cattails waved them on in the breeze. And when the sun disappeared behind the horizon, their light would only grow starker, drifting stars reflecting the ones in the sky.
“That’s a sight you don’t get in the capital,” Balor whispered. When Iris turned to smile at him, he smiled back immediately, his features soft and lined with gold from the sunset. “How lucky for us.”
“Yes,” she murmured back, her breath catching, and gazed at the fireflies once more.
If only they could linger here, admiring the view nature offered them until the night turned. She didn’t mind the silence anymore. Balor’s presence wasn’t an itch under her skin anymore but a balm, a companionship that only kindled the glow in her chest.
Still, Mistria was waiting for them, and so they left the pond behind.
Iris felt an odd pinch of disappointment when she spotted Celine’s cottage in the distance. It felt like in no time they drew up to the space outside the town’s walls where Balor usually left his wagon.
The wheels finally creaked to a stop, the hush left in their wake signalling the end of the ride. Balor dropped the reins and smiled to Iris.
“Let me just check that we’re in the right spot,” he said before jumping down with the ease of habit. It had gotten dark enough that he had to step down to make sure the wheels were secure, Iris supposed. She watched him peer down on each side before coming back to the front. “All good.”
This time, when he approached her to give her a hand, she accepted it.
“Thanks again, Balor,” she said as she jumped down from the wagon.
“Anytime,” he said with a squeeze of her fingers. “I mean it, Iris; you’re excellent company.”
She smiled. Neither of them moved, his hand a loose clasp around hers. The moment stretched between them as they stared at each other, waiting for something—but what?
After another second, Balor released her. “Anyway, have a good night.”
“You, too,” she replied, yet her feet stayed rooted in place.
He opened his mouth, then closed it with saying anything. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair. “See you around.”
There was an odd note to his voice she couldn’t read; it made something in her uncoil, a key turning into the lock of a door she wasn’t ready to open. Not yet.
But maybe soon.
“See you,” she whispered, and finally turned on her heels.