[This chapter contains emotional conflict, intoxication, and distressing interpersonal dynamics. Reader discretion is advised.]
It was a wonder she could make it back to her room. But she walked each step properly, enough so that Bazil didn't even notice something was amiss as he glanced up from the ground, having waited.
"Bazil," Salīa smiled. "I was just about to look for you. Join me inside for some juice."
He sat with her quietly as she poured them for her, then finally spoke up when feeling her staring.
"I'm sorry, Līa. I know I've been…"
"Really grumpy?"
"…Yes," he sighed, frustrated. "I just…so much has upset me. And after what happened when we were shooting. Why did you jump in front of it?"
"The arrow? Why wouldn't I? To protect you, of course," she chuckled.
"But…It's me who should be taking arrows for you, not the other way around."
Is that what's been bothering him? Is that why he looks so sad and serious right now?
"Oh, grumpy face. Smile, please. It's of no matter."
She leaned in close to him, enough so that her eyelashes could just about touch his face as they fluttered. His breath tensed, yet she felt the heat of it. If either spoke, their lips would've brushed.
An urge to hug him surged through her. While Bazil was fighting whatever urges were surging through him.
Once she tilted her head, gazing up, she said, "How about this, Commander Guardian Bazilani? Let's enjoy this fruit juice, and all is forgiven."
Bazil's face softened when he saw hers, longingly gazing up at him. He nodded and lifted his cup. And in one go, he drank it all as she did hers.
But then his face soured, and all the smoothened lines harshened as he threw the cup.
"What did you give me?!"
"Hmm? Fruit juice."
"Don't lie to me, Līa. Does this taste like fruit juice to you?"
She licked her lips, then frowned. And poured another to check, but Bazil grabbed it away. He then looked at the bottle and sniffed it.
"Oh, that's right," Salīa remembered in her half-conscious state. "It's a drink flavored with fruits to taste like juice. Ha. Prince Naca told me you'd like it."
Bazil was scowling fiercely, yet Salīa just poked at him and chuckled.
"Līa, why? Do you not respect me?"
"It's just a little sip."
"Stop!" he yelled, quieting her. "What you are doing is cruel."
"But—"
"Stop," he leaned over as if about to hurl. Then he pulled up his water flask and drank it, and made her drink some too.
"I just wanted you to have fun with me," she pouted.
Bazil paced around, unsure what to do with the rage boiling within his throat, the gurgling discomfort in his stomach, and the aching within his chest.
"Līa, do you not think I'd like to drink all night with you? Laughing and holding and…" he cut off. "Yet none of that is worth the weight of what might happen if something happens to you for it. Do you not understand that? Or do you just like to test me?"
Salīa couldn't answer; she just let her head hang low.
"Am I that much of a fool to you?"
"You're not," she touched his hand.
"Stop," he yanked it away, tears coating his eyes. "This is cruel."
"But I don't mean to be. I just want us to be like when we were young. When…"
"You would joke about marrying my brother or me, knowing that you never would, as you never could."
What?
Hearing those words was enough to bring her out of her daze. It was clear the drink was muddying Bazil's thoughts as well.
"Forgive me," he stood up, preparing his stance. "I don't wish to talk. Of course, I will stay beside you. But even in this closeness, may I be excused?"
From having to entertain me, he meant. She sighed and gave a nod.
If I had more pride, I might have asked how dare he speak to me like that and told him that he can only be excused when I say so.Yet that would've been truly cruel.
"Do as you wish."
With that, he stormed out. Salīa sighed, then poured herself another glass and drank this fruit-like drink.
The aftertaste was undeniably bitter, and she was not so drunk that she had forgotten what Prince Naca had said of it.
"So why did I do that?"
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