Chapter 62: The Stubborn Mule and the Pendant's Mystery

Dorian felt the weight of the elf leaning against his back as Regis trotted through the streets of Brenhold. She was still dazed—whether from the shock of his magic or crashing into a trash can, Dorian wasn’t sure.

"Are we not going to talk?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

No answer.

He sighed. "Still out of it, huh?" He adjusted his grip on Regis’s reins. "Well, I know just the place to wake you up."

Regis whinnied as they turned toward The Stubborn Mule, where Ralnor and Bennet were deep in conversation near the inn’s entrance.

The moment they caught sight of Dorian, their gazes flicked between him and the mysterious elf slumped against his back.

Ralnor crossed his arms. "Who did you kidnap this time, bard?"

Dorian groaned, sliding off Regis. "Hey, it's not like that. She stole my flute from me!" He gestured toward her dramatically. "A little help, maybe?"

Without hesitation, Ralnor and Bennet secured the elf to a chair inside the inn, binding her hands—not roughly, but firmly enough to keep her from bolting.

As she came to, her golden eyes sharpened, scanning the room.

"Well, miss," Dorian said, leaning forward with a grin. "How are we feeling?"

She gave her bindings an annoyed tug before narrowing her eyes at him. "Untie me."

Dorian leaned back, arms behind his head. "See, that’s the problem. You don’t just snatch someone’s flute and run unless you’re up to something shady. That makes me very curious about you."

"If you wanted to talk, you wouldn’t have tied me up," she shot back.

Dorian arched a brow. "And if you weren’t being a cheeky little thief, we wouldn’t be in this situation."

Selyse, walking in at that moment, smirked. "Are you flirting with your victim, Dorian?"

Dorian whipped around. "What?! No—wait, when did you even get back?"

Before he could process, Tache strolled in, grinning. "Ahhh, so our bard has fallen for this beautiful elf thief?"

Dorian’s face turned red. "NO."

Tache tilted his head. "So you’re saying she’s not beautiful?"

Dorian opened his mouth, then glanced at the elf—her sharp features, her golden eyes, her regal posture despite being tied up. He froze.

The elf smirked.

Dorian groaned, rubbing his temples. "That’s not what I meant!" He threw his hands in the air. "What is happening right now?!"

The elf, amused despite her situation, spoke up. "Are you not going to interrogate me?"

Dorian sighed. "Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot." He pulled up a chair, resting his arms on the back of it. "Let’s start again. You’re the same elf I met back in Svalen, right?"

She nodded, eyes studying him carefully.

"Alright," Dorian continued. "So why did you run?"

She hesitated, then admitted, "Because you had the same pendant gem as me."

Dorian’s brows furrowed. "And that’s… a bad thing?"

The elf lowered her gaze. "A woman told me that the gems should never be gathered together."

Dorian’s heartbeat quickened. "Wait, woman?" He reached under his shirt, pulling out the pendant he’d worn for years. "I got this from a bard—a man."

Her expression shifted. "Oh."

A small silence stretched between them.

Dorian leaned closer. "How many more of these pendants exist?"

The elf shook her head. "I don’t know."

"Then why did you steal my flute?"

Her golden eyes flickered toward him. "I thought… you successfully separated the gemstone from your pendant, and you stick it to your flute."

Dorian’s fingers tightened around his pendant. He felt a cold weight in his chest.

This wasn’t just an old keepsake from a wandering bard. It meant something—but what?

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, Dorian exhaled and stood up. Without a word, he walked over and cut the bindings around the elf’s wrists.

Ralnor raised a brow. "That’s it?"

Dorian took a step back, meeting her gaze.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I did something wrong here."

The elf rubbed her wrists, watching him carefully.

Dorian gave her a small smile. "I was just chasing answers, but you’re looking for them too, aren’t you?"

The elf blinked, as if surprised.

Tache huffed, crossing his arms. "You’re too soft, bard."

Selyse rolled her eyes. "No, he’s doing what he always does. Trusting people and hoping for the best."

Dorian grinned. "And it hasn’t gotten me killed yet!"

Tache shook his head. "Yet."

Dorian turned back to the elf. "You never told me your name."

She studied him for a moment, then, at last, she spoke.

"Lusha."

Dorian smiled. "Nice to properly meet you, Lusha."

And something told him—this wouldn’t be the last conversation they’d have.

Lusha rubbed her wrists, her golden eyes flicking between Dorian and the three knights. Then, without another word, she stood up and walked toward the door.

Dorian didn’t stop her.

The knights, however, weren’t as relaxed.

Tache leaned forward, watching as Lusha stepped outside. "That’s it? You’re just gonna let her go?"

Ralnor grunted in agreement, arms crossed. "She stole from you. Should’ve at least taken her coin purse as a lesson."

Selyse shook her head, staring after the elf. "She could have told us more. You really trust her?"

Dorian grinned, leaning back in his chair. "She doesn’t know the answers yet." He shrugged. "And I believe this isn’t the last time we’ll meet."

Selyse exhaled sharply through her nose. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, yeah," Dorian said, standing up and stretching. "Enough of that—we’ve been dealing with too many serious things lately. Let’s drink!" He threw up his arms. "A full day of celebrating our continued survival!"

He pulled out his violin with a dramatic flourish. "I’ll even grace you all with some—"

Tache held up a hand, eyes narrowing. "Ah, ah, ah. No."

Dorian froze, looking betrayed. "What?"

Tache shook his head firmly. "You cannot use that violin."

Selyse leaned on the table, smirking. "Not unless you can actually play something other than dying cat noises."

Dorian placed a hand on his chest, feigning deep wounded offense. "I’ll have you know, my violin skills are legendary."

Ralnor, ever blunt, took a sip of ale. "Legendary for the wrong reasons."

Dorian groaned, slumping into his chair. "You’re all ganging up on me."

Tache clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "We’re saving you from public embarrassment, bard. Stick to what you’re good at."

Dorian huffed but grinned anyway.

"Fine, fine." He tucked the violin away, pulling out his lute instead.

The three knights relaxed as he strummed the first familiar notes of a lively tavern song.

Selyse raised her mug. "Now this, I can drink to."

The night went on, laughter and music filling the inn. But even as he played, Dorian’s mind lingered—on Lusha, on the pendants, and on the questions still left unanswered.

But for now… there was no need to rush the story.