Taris didn’t look up as the girl’s friend dashed in, looking nervous. “What is it?” he managed to croak through the pain. The boy wrung his hands and barely met the assassin’s eyes. “It’s the Princess Aera, sir,” he squeaked out as the woman herself pushed through the flap. “You just had to beat him,” she said eventually. Taris nearly glared at her, but for the veiled concern in her voice. Instead he kept his eyes downcast. “Beat who?” he asked, more curtly than he intended. He felt more the loser in this instance, though the trophy was his.

She didn’t answer but came over and lifted his chin in one hand, a towel in the other. The assassin knew what he probably looked like on his back, and it was anything but pretty. He could see her visibly try not to recoil at the sight. “Does this help?” she asked about the towels and water, “I have a salve in my chambers that will help if you need.” She finally looked into his eyes and he nearly lost himself. The pain was lessened by the water, but he needed his healing powder soon, else the cracks would take weeks to heal, instead of hours. His latent magic wasn’t enough to mend this on its own. Being a Moon Elf, her salve might help too, or at least that is what he hoped.

Aera’s violet eyes held his own red ones for another moment. He pulled himself out of the haze of pain and a bit of his old self came back for a moment. “Trying to get me alone in your chambers, eh?” he asked before he could stop himself. Taris chuckled, which degenerated into a racking cough, even his lungs felt seared. He looked back up at her, “My apologies, I know you said I shouldn’t flirt with you. Please, I would appreciate it.” The assassin stood shakily, and donned his cloak once more, but he left the ruined tunic off. Aera led him from the tent back into the hated light, towards the doors of the castle.

Before they could enter, however a shout caught his attention. Kentaro was marching towards them, more-or-less. He’d obviously downed another couple of goblets of wine during the last round. Taris went to a knee, Aera curtseyed. “Get up, damn you, you damned elfs!” the Prince nearly shouted. “Congratulations on yer victory, Darky, I have a special trophy for ya.” The swing was slow and clumsy, but Taris made no move to dodge. As it happened in his stupor the Prince barely glanced Taris’ cheek, and the Shadow Elf merely turned his head, avoiding the full force of the blow. Kentaro seemed not to notice, giving Aera a sloppy kiss on the cheek and stumbling off with a laugh. Taris glared daggers into his back, but kept the ones in his boots carefully hidden. He looked back to Aera, “Shall we continue?”