Page 51 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
“Hunting mercenaries with you, obviously,” Leif deadpanned.
“Right, makes sense,” he replied. “Mine is… let me think. Probably that time I agreed to a drunken, blindfolded sword fight.”
Leif stared. “Drunken… blindfolded? Why?”
Felix shrugged. “It seemed funny. I did saydrunken, right?”
Leif chortled. Isolde shook her head. “I’m drinking to this one,” she said primly, and took a sip. There were certain things a lady did not share.
Felix and Leif exchanged a glance.
“Lady Isolde has done something reckless?” Leif said, wide-eyed.
Isolde said nothing, but waved her cup at him for a refill. Leif obliged, pouring another one for Felix as well.
As the pleasant buzz of the mead settled into her skull, Isolde decided to up the stakes a little. “Tell us about your first kiss, or drink,” she said boldly, and giggled.
Leif actually blushed. “I um… haven’t had the pleasure.”
“You’re joking,” Felix said incredulously, laughing. “Come here, Leif, let me fix that for you.”
“Afraid you’re not my type,” Leif replied with a bashful grin.
Still laughing, Felix refrained from answering but took a long draught of his mead instead before looking at Isolde with raised eyebrows. “Well? Are you going to answer your own question, or drink up?”
“Of course,” she said, giggling again. “I was sixteen, and we were hiding behind bookshelves in the library. It was very romantic.”
Leif smiled. “Aww. What’s a library?”
Felix merely looked at her as she attempted to explain, with a slight tilt to his head, his eyes boring into hers in the most distracting way possible.
When it was Leif’s turn, he pondered his question for a long time, looking back and forth between her and Felix with an expression she would have called ‘calculating’ on anyone else’s face. “Oh, I have a good one,” he said finally. “What is the worst argument you’ve ever been in?”
Isolde blinked. The playful mood evaporated, and the temperature dropped several degrees. From the corner of her eye, she saw Felix tense up.
“Mine was with my sister last year,” Leif continued happily, seemingly oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. “It was after our father died and, well, I suppose we were both not doing too great. All good now, though!” He turned to face Felix. “What about you?”
Felix glared at him for a moment, then took a long, deliberate drink. Leif shifted his gaze to Isolde with a shrug, eyes wide and sparkling.
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and blushed. Looking stubbornly into the fire, she brought her cup to her lips and took a sip. Nobody spoke for what may well have been an eternity.
“Right,” Leif said, slapping his hands on his knees and standing up. He looked from Felix to Isolde and grinned. “I’m going to get some sleep. Night!” Before either of them could respond, he turned away and disappeared into the darkness beyond the firelight.
“That felt deliberate…” Felix muttered, frowning.
The silence that followed hung heavily in the air. Isolde broke it with a small cough, clearing her throat. Her cheeks were flushed from the mead, and the world had gone somewhat blurry around the edges. She hesitated, bit her lip, and snuck a peek at Felix. He was staring into the fire, his thoughts probably a million miles away, like he wanted to be left alone. But no, Leif had presented her with this opportunity on a silver platter, and she wouldn’t let it go to waste. Even if she was a little drunk.
“We should talk, Felix.”
“We should?” He turned to face her. His expression was as unreadable as always.
“Yes! We… we fought; we said terrible things. I used magic on you! And we never talked about it after.”
“Oh, that. It’s fine.” He shrugged and threw a small stick into the fire.
That was so like him. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not fine! I feel awful about it. I should never have done that.”
“Well, it was an accident; you couldn’t help it.”
