The morning sun spilled lazily across the newly polished floorboards, painting thin streaks of gold on the walls. Leon stretched slowly, savoring the soft creak of the sturdy bed beneath him. The air inside the house smelled faintly of fresh timber and lime plaster, a far cry from the damp, moldy scent that used to haunt his mornings.
"Leon."
Lyra's voice floated from outside.
He swung his legs off the bed and padded out to find her bent over a basket brimming with folded cloth, her fingers inspecting each seam with precision.
"You're coming with me today," she announced without looking up.
He blinked. "Am I?"
She gave him a sharp glance. "Yes. I've got a new batch of mana-infused coats ready to sell, and I need someone to help carry them to the square. Unless, of course, you'd rather sit here all day admiring your new roof."
Leon smiled faintly but said nothing, reaching for one of the baskets stacked nearby.
The coats were finely made. Each one was carefully stitched, embroidered with faint runes that shimmered faintly when touched. They weren't strong enchantments, but they held practical benefits: warmth without weight, minor resistance to water, and most importantly, status.
People paid handsomely for status. Especially the middle class who felt they had a point to prove.
They stepped out together, the early bustle of the village already in full swing. Merchants shouted over one another, children darted between carts, and the scent of baked bread drifted faintly on the wind. Leon kept a steady pace behind Lyra, adjusting the heavy basket balanced on his hip.
It wasn't long before he noticed the tall man from before.
He stood near a spice merchant's stall, half-shrouded in the shadow of a worn awning, his cloak drawn tight despite the late-summer warmth.
Leon looked at him for so long that the man turned around sharply and locked eyes with him.
Last time, the man's hostility had been almost tangible, sharp enough to cut. Today, though, there was something different about him. The same sharpness lingered but it lacked the venom from before. Interesting.
As they drew closer, Lyra's steps slowed ever so slightly.
Leon observed the way her fingers tightened around the strap of the basket slung across her shoulder, and the faintest hint of color spread across her cheeks.
The man straightened and his eyes softened perceptibly when they fell on her.
"Lyra."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"Cavan. I didn't expect to see you here this early."
Leon's brows lifted a fraction. There was something fishy going on here.
Cavan stepped closer.
"I heard the traders from Eslora came in yesterday. Thought I'd see if they brought more star-silk this time."
Lyra adjusted the basket in her arms, glancing away as though she couldn't hold his gaze for long. "Star-silk, huh? Expensive taste for someone who claims he hates frills."
He laughed softly. "Not for me."
Leon considered whistling to remind them of his presence but one look at Cavan and he dropped that idea. He would just be redundant in peace.
He slowed his pace, letting himself fall a few steps behind while pretending to fuss with the strap of his basket.
Leon studied Cavan from behind.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. A man who moved like he was used to fighting, but didn't flaunt it. His cloak was simple but well-kept, his boots sturdy, the hilt of a short blade just visible under the folds of fabric.
More importantly, the way he looked at Lyra was unmistakable.
It wasn't idle curiosity or casual interest.
Leon lowered his head to hide a faint smile forming on his lips.
No wonder the man had looked at him with so much hostility before.
Everyone knew Leon...well, the original Leon was like a dead weight dragging his sister down. A spoiled, timid man-child bleeding her dry while offering nothing in return.
If Leon were in Cavan's shoes, he'd have hated him too.
Lyra led the way through the square, stopping at their usual spot beneath a crooked old elm where the morning sun filtered through the leaves. She set down her basket, smoothing her skirt absently, though her gaze flicked a few times towards Cavan.
And Cavan, despite his earlier claim about star-silk, lingered nearby.
He didn't hover close enough to seem obvious, but Leon noticed the way his steps slowed whenever they drifted too far apart.
Interesting indeed.
By mid-morning, customers began trickling in. Word of Lyra's coats had spread farther than Leon realized; even a few minor merchants from neighboring villages came to browse, their fingers lingering on the shimmering runes stitched into the hems.
Lyra handled most of the sales. Leon's role was mostly to fetch, carry, and occasionally explain the enchantments to curious buyers when Lyra was too busy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Cavan more than once speaking quietly with passing traders, occasionally glancing back at their stall.
By noon, the sun was high, and the square smelled of sweat, spices, and roasting meat. Business slowed briefly as people sought shade, and Lyra finally allowed herself to sit on the low edge of the stall, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead.
"You okay?" Leon asked mildly, handing her a flask of water.
She accepted it with a nod, drinking deeply before answering. "Fine. Just hot."
"Seems like Cavan doesn't mind hanging around," Leon said casually, watching her over the rim of his flask.
Lyra sputtered, choking slightly on her drink. "What?"
"Tall guy. Dark cloak. Glowers at me like I owe him blood money." He gestured vaguely with his free hand. "Don't play dumb, Lyra."
Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she avoided his gaze. "He's..a friend."
"Mhm. Friend huh?"
"Yes! Just friends." Lyra said more forcefully than necessary.
"So, for now? Or...?"
Lyra groaned softly
"Since when did you become so chatty?"
Leon raised both hands in surrender. Fine. He wouldn't bring up the fact that they were eye fucking each other.
He could tell she was serious. Leon looked at the tall man again then back at Lyra who clearly reciprocated his feelings and shook his head slightly.
He did not understand a thing about feelings. But one thing he did know, was not to push too hard. Whatever it was, he would let them figure it out theirselves.