Honestly, Niah never imagined her day would kick off with a wolf dog nearly bowling her over at the chapel doors. She'd barely managed three steps inside before a blur of fur and teeth came barreling toward her, only to skid to a halt and fix her with a stare that could melt steel.
Dusken, Zaire's ever-present, overly clever canine sidekick, narrowed his eyes, clearly sizing her up with way too much intelligence for a dog.
"Ah," came Zaire's voice from the doorway, dripping with amusement. "I see you've met Dusken, my better half."
Niah blinked, caught off guard. "Um… hi?"
The staring contest continued. Dusken's gaze was intense, curious, and just a little too personal for comfort. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, he let out a dramatic huff and trotted right up to her, nosing at her hand.
One sniff. Two. And then—oh, here we go, the licking started.
"Okay—okay, what are you—wait—what is happening?" Niah stumbled back, half-laughing, as the massive not-quite-wolf leaned all his ridiculous weight into her and flopped over like he was auditioning for the world's loyal golden retriever. "Zaire! What did you feed him?!"
Zaire appeared from the side door, holding a scroll and trying very hard not to look jealous. "He's never like this."
Dusken let out a smug bark and thumped his tail against Niah's leg, as if to say, Mine now.
"He was growling at me two seconds ago," Niah muttered, eyeing the dog suspiciously.
"That's because you weren't looking at him in the eye," Zaire replied, stepping closer. "Something about you must have flipped the switch."
Niah glanced down. Dusken was now pawing at her scarf. Clingy, much?
She lowered her voice. "I think someone's jealous," catching the quick twitch of Zaire's jaw.
Zaire leaned against a pew, trying for nonchalance and missing by a mile. "Me? Jealous of an oversize furball? Please."
Dusken snorted loudly and pressed even harder into Niah's legs. Zaire's eyes narrowed, just a bit.
"I swear, if he tries to cuddle with you in front of me, I'll—"
Niah grinned, wicked. "Oh no, we wouldn't want you to think he actually has feelings for me"
Dusken barked again, probably in agreement.
Right then, the chapel doors banged open and in swept Sylen, looking like he'd just lost a duel with a tornado—hair wild, scarf half-tied, and his whole vibe screaming personal tragedy.
"There you all are!" he announced, arms thrown wide like a man betrayed by fate itself. "I am back again because I am emotionally wounded. Possibly mortally. Someone needs to comfort me at this instance."
Zaire barely glanced up. "Still not over the baguette girl?"
"She stabbed me Zaire," Sylen declared, pointing dramatically at his chest. "Not with a blade. But with something far more worse. Her Words."
Niah tilted her head, trying to keep a straight face. "Wait, what happened?"
"A girl—no, a devil in human form at the market," Sylen began, pacing like a tragic hero. "She insulted my taste in clothes, called me a baguette, and then mocked me for eating bland eggs! I don't even eat bland eggs! Who does that?!"
Niah blinked. "That's… oddly specific."
"She had eyes like betrayal," Sylen whispered, clutching his imaginary wounds. "Wit like a blade. And the audacity—oh!—to sass me in public!"
Niah tried not to snort. "And you didn't sass her back?"
"I tried! But she out-sassed me. Do you know how rare that is?!" He slumped into the pew beside her, flinging a hand to his forehead like a dying poet. "It's been days, hell years since someone out-sassed me like that, and I can still hear her not-so-melodious voice haunting me."
She patted his shoulder, lips twitching. "I'm sorry to hear that. That sounds… intense."
Zaire cleared his throat, face suspiciously neutral. Dusken let out a single, smug boof.
"I mean," Niah added, "she sounds a lot like my best friend, Jules. She'd do all of that."
Zaire coughed into his fist. Sylen perked up. "She must be a powerful woman indeed."
"You have no idea," Niah said, shaking her head. "But I'm pretty sure she wasn't the one you met."
Zaire turned away quickly, shoulders shaking with silent laughter and Dusken sneezed, loudly.
Poor Sylen, lost in his tragic monologue, had no clue he'd just described Jules to Niah or that the two girls were basically soulmates.
As Sylen wrapped up his emotional saga, Niah offered him a sympathetic smile, though her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. She reached out a hand.
"I don't think we've met properly," she said. "I'm Niah."
Sylen blinked, as if introductions were a foreign concept of mid-drama. Then, with a flourish that was absolutely unnecessary, he took her hand and bowed.
"Sylen Veilborne of the Second Circle, Guardian of the Eastern Watch," he announced grandly, "but clearly defenseless against the sharp-tongued market women."
Niah raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Well, Sylen of the Second Circle, it's nice to meet you. I'll try to go easy on your ego."
He gasped, wounded. "Another one! Zaire, where do you find these women?"
Zaire smirked from across the room, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Fate has excellent taste," he murmured.
He was already plotting a reunion. One Sylen would never see coming not in a thousand lifetimes.
* * *