euphridia
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Book 4: Chapter 47: Situationship
🕑 Added 2025-09-23 21:12:32 +0000 UTCMorin stomped, his boot ringing metal. “Sneak aboard my ship in borrowed skins, will you? To what end? I told Procul plain! No clergy meddling in my rigging!”
“I suppose his murder muddled your memo,” Oliver quipped, his staff snapping into his hand with a hollow thump. His robes slithered down his shoulders, flaring before settling around his newly formed boots. “But do let us know when you’re ready to thank us for keeping your rigging intact.”
Morin’s eyes blazed, his voice rising. “Thank you?! I ought to—”
“You’re welcome,” I cut in quickly, trying to redirect. “But maybe the real question is whether that creature was alone, or—”
“You shaved hours off your route by sailing too close to their reef, didn’t you?” Oliver added coolly. “Ignorance or arrogance? Neither looks good when attached to your legacy.”
I glared at him, pressure building behind my eyes.
Can’t you try tact, just once?
He only offered me a slippery shrug.
“Mattias! Florian! Be that a demon?!” Morin barked.
Exactly what I’d been trying to avoid.
As the twins stepped forward, Oliver gave a long, theatrical sigh, slamming his staff so the scythe blade reappeared. “Think carefully, golden boys. If I be a demon, then what do you think I’m going to do to you the moment you confirm it?”
“Attack us…” Mattias muttered with a deep frown.
“No,” Oliver corrected. “Trick question. I wouldn’t let you get even that far. A dark mage, however, would consider your non-consensual probing with amity a desecration.” He walked over so that I stood between him and the twins. “And Captain Lightbringer here will have none of it.”
“Captain Lightbringer?” Morin’s eyes widened before flicking to the twins. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We just found out ourselves,” Mattias explained.
Florian coughed. “Didn’t seem like her amity powers were all that strong before… Perhaps she was hiding them.”
I think it had more to do with Oliver hanging out in my hilt.
“The stowaway is still suspicious!” Morin’s scowl deepened.
Relia, who had been silent through the entire exchange, held up a hand. “I would remind all present,” he began, his voice hoarse and thin, “that demons cannot traverse the seas. Yet he did so, ultimately to save my life.”
Obviously, that was another one of those myths.
I watched as Relias's muted glow dried him. “Are you alright?”
“I sought air earlier, but only found seawater,” he explained, a bit winded. “While he purged most of it, I find my throat rather tender in the aftermath.”
How did he manage that while in the water himself?
Magical chest compressions?
“Then you vouch for the stowaway?” Morin pressed. “I won’t risk the Goddess’s wrath by ferrying an illicit being?”
That’s what he’s worried about?
“Of course, I vouch for Oliver,” I replied.
The crew, who had been keeping their distance, began to murmur, several tracing hex-marks in the air.
“His involvement in my disappearance was greatly exaggerated,” I added, unable to keep a guilty shrug at bay. “Blame rolls downhill—along with plenty of other unsavory things.”
“Then the stowaway be your responsibility!” Morin declared, as if I didn’t know already.
“Yessir,” I agreed.
“Captain,” he shot back, using the proper title for the first time. “I’m the Captain of this ship, and I won’t have any other Captains before me!” He turned his gaze to his crew. “That goes for the lot of ya! Address me as Captain Morin, Slayer of Karkinanthos!”
“Karkinanthos?”
“The carcass before ya,” Morin prompted.
I glanced dubiously at Florian and Mattias, who only sighed.
Rewriting history before the ink even dries…
“Ah. Understood, Captain Morin.”
***
“The only thing that would make this better is to share it with a special someone…”
…
“Oh, Oliver! You should come out and see this.”
…
My pulse spiked as I found myself caught in his blazing green gaze, our temples only inches apart.
What would the others say if they saw us like this?
…
I sighed. “Yes, the world sees you as an enemy, but I see you as—”
…
“Yes. I believe it’s best if I stay close by your side.”
For a moment, my lungs forgot their job. “I’m not objecting, but I’m not sure this is the time to be—”
THUD.
I awoke flat on my back in the middle of our quarters, a knot blooming on the back of my crown.
“I thought you were steadying the boat!” I moaned.
“I am,” Nora replied from her hammock. “You yeeted yourself.”
I sat up and swore for a bit.
“My goodness,” Nora said with a weak laugh. “I didn’t think you knew that word!”
“I think I have a problem,” I grunted.
“Gravity is constant, so I doubt there are easy answers to it.”
“A different problem.”
“I think you’ll have to elaborate before I can help,” she advised.
I glanced around the cabin to be sure the door was shut. “Can you still steady things and cast another spell while you’re at it?”
“With this new staff, I can,” she said, holding it up. “Dual orbs aren’t just for show.” She eyed the rope holding her aloft. “Private girl-talk time?”
After confirming Oliver wasn’t lurking in the serpent mark, I nodded. Nora sealed us inside her cone of silence.
“Well?”
“Uh…” I began. “Best Friends Act? No. Girl Code. But I don’t remember which rule.”
“Eight,” she answered confidently.
“How do you know?”
Didn’t she say I had to elaborate?
“You, uh, were sleeptalking again.”
“So… you know?”
“Well, I don’t actually—”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t say anything. I don’t even know my own feelings. But he’s not stupid, and I might be making him uncomfortable. And then there’s Relias. The whole party dynamic could implode…”
Nora sighed. “Why don’t you start at—”
“I’ve thought about that too. But the timing is awful! We’re in the middle of a situation! What if this is just a way I’m distracting myself from things I don’t want to face? And what about him? What if this is the whole ‘With the Tyrant’s help, I’ll get my Revenge!’ plot?”
“I don’t see how that applies here—”
“I would be the tyrant in this case,” I clarified. “What if he goes along with my feelings just for a secondary benefit? What if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it? What if this is some weird Stockholm syndrome setup? I’m practically holding him hostage!”
“Stockholm syndrome isn’t real,” she snapped. “It was a cover for the sheer incompetence of—oh, just no, Rae. No. You really should—”
“Yeah. Exactly!” I shot to my feet. “I’ll just ignore the problem completely, because it’s not a real problem! Fake it till you make it!”
“Rae!”
But I was already out the door, convinced a walk in the sunshine would clear my head.
Never mind that I constantly fumed when two potential love interests in any story refused to communicate.
This isn’t that, and I’m definitely not a hypocrite.
“What has you so furious this morning?” Oliver asked at my elbow, as if he had materialized out of thin air.
“What the?!” I nearly jumped.
He leaned against the railing, utterly unruffled. “And here I stayed up all night cleaning up after playtime.” He gave an exaggerated pout. “It's not often that I bring order to chaos.”
Order…
My decision is for the good of the Order.
I’m focusing on my career.
“Well? I’m waiting,” Oliver pressed.
I glanced across the deck. The remnants of Karkinanthos were long gone. Aside from a few fresh scuffs on the plankboards, there was no other sign of friction.
Friction…
Don’t cause any unnecessary friction.
“You’re the best partner anyone could ask for. You anticipated my needs in battle, you saved people without sparing a second thought, and you bolstered my confidence when I was afraid of trying something new. I’m most appreciative.”
I held out my hand so he could shake it. Instead, he folded his arms.
“You’re angry with me.”
“No!”
“If I am not its direct source, I’m certainly its target.”
I sighed. “Sorry. It’s a problem with me, not with you.”
“With anyone else, I would wholeheartedly agree,” Oliver replied, one eye opening. “However, I’m going to insist we discuss it.”
I squirmed under his gaze, first trying a dismissive laugh. When that didn’t work, I tried staring at the deck instead. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could tell he wasn’t going to give up. I glanced about, making sure everyone was out of earshot.
Thank goodness for sea breezes.
“Do you ever… Have feelings about someone and not know what those feelings actually are?”
“Perhaps.”
I pursed my lips. “You know, you're being—”
“Terribly unhelpful,” he agreed calmly. “Yet let’s pretend that’s happening to me right now. What would you tell me to do?”
“Who, me?”
“Yes. Imagine I have feelings for you that I can’t properly sort out because of a thousand messy variables.”
I flinched, my eyes widening.
“This is purely hypothetical,” he added. “But let me narrow it further. Say I have no frame of reference.”
“Excuse me?”
“As a human under situational duress, you’re right to wonder whether what you feel now is real,” he said. “But I believe my problem stems more from the fact that I lack the maturity to make sense of my own perspective. Rather than answer your affections prematurely and risk an unfortunate misunderstanding between the two of us, what should I do?”
The answer was too clear.
“It would make sense to talk about it with me.”
Oliver tilted his head. “Even if I don’t know what I’m trying to say to you?”
“Especially then.” I met his eyes, finding it easier than I thought it would be. “You don’t wait until you have a perfectly polished speech. You just speak the truth as you see it, because that tells me I matter. Even if all you can say is, “I’m not sure what this is yet,’ you still show that their feelings, and, well, yours, are worth the effort to discern.”
Something softened in his expression, his usual wry mask slipping a bit. “You give good advice. You should allow yourself to take it, too.”
“You lied again,” I said with a sigh. “You said you’re terribly unhelpful, but in the end you actually did help.”
“Double negative,” he said, his smirk returning.
“So… We’re good then?”
“Define ‘good’.”
I rolled my eyes. “Still partners who reserve the right to talk about feelings once we’re ready?”
“Then we are indeed good.”
I squinted at him. “You know. You said you lack the maturity to make sense of your own perspective. But I think that insight is probably the most mature thing I’ve heard in a long time.” My brow furrowed. “Which begs me to ask, how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I was my father’s shame from the moment I existed, and he kept me locked away in nightmare.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “It wasn’t until Zizi ordered me to educate myself that I even understood there was a world beyond that husk-filled spider pit.”
“How awful…”
He shrugged. “It was what it was.”
“Awful,” I insisted.
“I suppose so. But if you’ll excuse me…” He pushed himself off the railing. “I’ve made friends with a certain cat aboard, and I promised him a snack.”
“You can talk to Beast?!”
He was already walking toward the ship’s hold. “He would prefer it if you referred to him as Your Majesty, but yes.”
I watched him disappear down the stairs.
Dang it, I think I like him even more now.
***
Post Chapter Omake
Rae: It was a myth, right? Demons can traverse the sea?
Oliver: You’re asking the wrong question.
Rae: I am?
Oliver: You should ask, “Would demons want to traverse the sea?”
Rae: Well, would they?
Oliver: Speranza is a massive, self-contained landmass. Everything of animus-producing value is already here. What’s in the open sea? Salt water?
Rae: I’d think it would be neat to see a deep-sea coral reef without scuba gear...
Oliver: I strongly recommend against trying to fight another ‘Karkinanthos’ underwater. The green ones are even more aggressive.
Rae: So you have traversed the sea!
Oliver: Yes, but now you also know why.
Comments
rhekke
Honest and open communication? In my story? It's more likely than you think...
