Playing dead was surprisingly easy. Lying motionless while Lyanna went supernova on a dozen goblins had been the hardest part. He'd wanted to peek.
Now, as Lyanna's hug lingered, her armored form pressing against him, all he could focus on was the feeling—or lack thereof. Her grip, which should have felt like a hydraulic press given the emotion behind it, was just a gentle weight. The metal of her pauldron was cool against his cheek.
He could smell the goblin blood on her. It was acrid and coppery. He kind of wished it wasn't there.
She pulled back, her composure slowly returning, though her eyes were still a storm of conflicting emotions. Confusion was winning.
"My… my apologies," she stammered, a faint blush creeping up her neck. It was the first time Ravi had seen the unflappable warrior princess flustered.
Across the cave, Elara's healing light faded from Erik's body. The aspiring hero sat up, groaning, a massive purple bruise already forming on his chest where the club had sent him flying.
"What… what happened?" he mumbled, looking around at the carnage. "Did we win?"
No one answered him. Elara was still staring at Ravi, her mouth slightly agape, as if he were a mathematical equation that refused to be solved. Lyanna was looking from the splintered remains of the hobgoblin's club to Ravi's perfectly intact chest.
"We need to go," Lyanna said finally, her voice regaining its command. "Collect the proof of subjugation. Erik, can you walk?"
"Of course I can walk!" Erik blustered, staggering to his feet. He saw the headless body of the Hobgoblin and his eyes widened. "I… I softened him up for you."
Lyanna ignored him. She strode over to the corpse and, with a single, effortless swing of her greatsword, lopped off one of its grimy, oversized ears. She tossed the proof into a leather sack. "Let's move. This cave won't stay empty for long."
The walk back was a masterclass in awkward silence.
Erik sulked, his pride wounded far worse than his body. Elara trailed at the very back, keeping a safe distance from Ravi and muttering to herself about "unexplained vital readings" and "cellular integrity."
Ravi, for his part, adopted a painful-looking limp and held a hand to his ribs, wincing every few steps. It was a solid performance. Top-tier method acting.
Lyanna fell into step beside him. She was quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed on the path ahead.
"It wasn't a clip, Ravi," she said finally, her voice low so the others couldn't hear. "I saw it. It was a direct hit. I saw the club bend around you."
Ravi's fake limp faltered for a second. "Adrenaline's a weird thing," he said, recycling his earlier lie. "Everything's a blur. Maybe my travel pack took most of it? Or the club was just old and rotten?"
He was throwing out excuses like confetti, hoping one would stick.
"The club was strong enough to shatter stone," she countered, her voice dangerously calm. "And you weren't wearing a pack."
Busted.
He just shrugged, looking down. "I don't know, then. All I know is I'm here. Sore as hell, but here. Guess the gods were smiling on me today."
He hated using that line. It felt cheap. But it was the only explanation this world might accept. A miracle.
She didn't press further, but the look she gave him was intense. The mystery was no longer a passing curiosity for her; it had become an obsession. He could see it in the way her brows were furrowed in thought. She wasn't buying it. Not for a second.
They re-entered Aethelgard through the main gate, a motley crew of the blood-splattered and the sullen. Their return to the Adventurer's Guild drew stares.
Kaelen was at the bar, a tankard of ale in his meaty fist. He saw them enter and a cruel smirk spread across his face, ready with a taunt. Then his eyes took in the state of them—Erik's bruised face, Lyanna's gore-soaked armor, and the heavy sack dripping black blood. His smirk vanished.
"No way," he muttered into his drink. "They actually survived."
Lyanna strode directly to the counter, slamming the sack onto the polished wood. Elara the registrar looked up, unimpressed, until Lyanna dumped the Hobgoblin ear out.
The registrar's eyes widened. "A Hobgoblin Chieftain? Your report said small goblin nest."
"The report was wrong," Lyanna said curtly. "D-Rank pay is insufficient. This was a C-Rank threat."
Erik shoved his way forward. "And I faced him head-on! A valiant effort, though—"
"You were unconscious for the entire fight," Lyanna cut in, her voice like cracking ice. Erik shrank back, his face turning a blotchy red.
The registrar looked between them, then at Ravi, who was doing his best impression of a man trying not to fall over. She sighed. "Fine. C-Rank bounty. 50 silver, split four ways."
"Wait, four ways?" Erik protested. "The newbie didn't do anything but scream!"
"He saved my life," Lyanna stated, her voice echoing with a finality that silenced the entire guild. "He gets a full share. Is that a problem?"
Erik opened his mouth, then closed it, wilting under the combined pressure of Lyanna's glare and the stares of every adventurer in the room. He snatched his share and stalked away. Elara the healer timidly took hers and scurried after him.
That left Ravi and Lyanna at the counter.
The registrar pushed twelve silver and a handful of copper pieces toward Ravi. It felt like a fortune. He scooped it up, the light metal feeling unreal in his calloused hand.
"Tonight," Lyanna said, turning to him. "The drinks are on me. That's not a request."
She led him to a quiet corner table, far from the jeering crowd. She returned a moment later with two foaming tankards of ale. She slid one in front of him.
"To the weakling who hits harder than a Hobgoblin's club," she said, her lips quirking into a small, wry smile. She raised her tankard.
Ravi clinked his against hers. The force of the light tap almost shattered the thick ceramic mug in her hand. He saw a hairline crack appear on its surface and pulled his away quickly.
He took a long drink. The ale was bitter and watery, but right now, it tasted like victory.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft and serious. "You didn't have to do that. You could have run."
"So could you," he replied.
"It's my job."
"Maybe I decided to make it my job, too."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the guild hall a dull roar around them. Her gaze was fixed on him, that same confusing mix of respect and profound curiosity. He met her eyes, and for a second, he forgot about the lies, forgot about the act. He just saw the woman who had rushed to his side when he'd first arrived in this world.
She reached across the table, her gloved fingers resting on the back of his hand. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt through him. Not a physical one—her touch felt like nothing—but an emotional one. A connection.
"Just be more careful," she murmured. "My heart can't take that kind of luck twice."
He looked at her hand on his, then back up to her piercing blue eyes. He was playing a dangerous game. Every lie he told, every truth he hid, was a brick in a wall he was building between them.
And he was starting to realize, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that he might not want that wall to be there at all.