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The campsite was quieter than usual that evening. The commander had retired early to his tent after a particularly exhausting battle. The rest of the party had scattered to their own routines: sharpening blades, nursing injuries—or stealing a rare moment of peace.
Sosiel had found a spot by the campfire. It had been an exhausting day, but he found he slept better if he took an hour to draw—to focus his mind on the beauty that could be found in all things. Even here in the Worldwound. As horrid as the landscape around him appeared, there was still plenty of beauty to be found. The way Seelah joyfully raised her sword in battle. The unexpected camaraderie that could be found even with so dour a companion as Regill. The unbridled joy in Woljif’s eyes when the commander tossed him a bag of sweets he’d found who knew where.
And, of course, the commander himself, with the soft lines of his mouth and the gleaming warmth of his eyes more perfect than any statue of Shelyn he’d ever seen.
Embarrassed, Sosiel realized that his sketch had taken on the all too familiar shape of the commander’s slim hips and elegant limbs. He ran his thumb along a line, gently smudging the charcoal into the shape of flowing hair.
A sound nearby made him flinch, and he hastily put down his sketchpad as if he’d been doing something forbidden.
Which was ridiculous, because Shelyn taught that the appreciation of beauty was a prayer, and what could be more innocent than a cleric devoting himself to his goddess here at the campfire?
Sosiel winced when he saw who was approaching.
Daeran. Of course.
Daeran came strolling towards him, a faint smile tugging at his lips and a bouquet of freshly picked roses in his hands. Roses—here in the Worldwound?
Sosiel tried to focus on his sketchpad and pretend that he hadn’t seen Daeran, but of course Daeran would never let an opportunity pass to tease him.
“You’re so quiet tonight, Sosiel. I half-expected to find you reprimanding someone for misplacing a towel or, gods forbid, singing off-key.”
It was enough to draw a small smile from Sosiel. Friendly teasing he didn’t mind—he’d grown up among brothers, after all. It was just cruelty he couldn’t stand.
“You’ve been busy as well, I see. How did you manage to find roses in the middle of this?” Sosiel nodded towards the corrupted wasteland around them.
“Oh, a little bit of magic, a little bit of effort, and a considerable amount of charm. It’s amazing what the world yields when I ask nicely—or demand prettily.” Daeran winked at him.
He was charming, the bastard, Sosiel thought unkindly, and then immediately felt a rush of guilt.
He set his sketch aside, folding his hands in his lap as he studied Daeran. “I assume these aren’t for me.”
With a gasp of shock, Daeran’s free hand dramatically clutched his chest. “Sosiel, you wound me. What would I do without your unwavering faith in my intentions?”
Sosiel couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “History suggests your intentions tend towards mischief and self-indulgence.”
“True. But not tonight.”
Daeran plucked a rose from the bouquet and held it up. His eyes softened as he gazed at it in contemplation—just enough to hint at sincerity hidden behind the jest. “No, tonight these are for our dear commander. A token of admiration from someone who appreciates his… unparalleled leadership skills.”
Something clenched in Sosiel’s chest. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. He had no right to be jealous. And Daeran had as much a right as anyone to appreciate the beauty of the commander’s soul.
“Is that so?” he said instead. “Because it looks more like an elaborate ploy to capture his attention.”
“You’ve caught me.” Daeran’s voice was intimately low. He leaned in close enough that Sosiel could feel the heat of his breath against his skin. “I’m utterly smitten. And why wouldn’t I be? Our commander is a force of nature. Grace under fire, unwavering resolve, heartbreaking beauty—and just the right amount of chaos to keep things interesting. Tell me, how does one not fall hopelessly for such a man?”
Sosiel had to swallow. It was disconcerting to have Daeran so close. Oh, Shelyn, but he was beautiful—on the outside, at least. The inside was a different matter. Sosiel had more than once felt the sting of the cruel words Daeran was capable of.
And yet, things were rarely so simple. As much as Sosiel hated the thought, he was sure Daeran’s feelings for the commander were genuine. And was that not something to be nurtured in someone like Daeran?
“Have you been rehearsing those lines, Daeran?”
Daeran’s answering grin was unapologetic. “Absolutely. Do you think it’s too much? Or perhaps not enough… Should I add a poem? A pretty song? I could compose one on the spot if you think it would help.”
Sosiel exhaled as he leaned back, trying to bring at least a little distance between them to clear his mind. “The commander isn’t someone who’s easily swayed by words or empty gestures—especially when they come wrapped in flowery theatrics.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong there.” There was genuine amusement in Daeran’s eyes. Was it because he could see the effect he was having on Sosiel? “He enjoys flowery theatrics, especially when they embellish true sentiment. And surely Shelyn would agree that even the most stalwart hero deserves a bit of beauty now and then? Something to remind them that not everything in this world is darkness and duty.”
Daeran gently brushed the rose against Sosiel’s lips. Its petals were soft like silk, and the fragrance a sudden reminder of all the beauty they’d left behind when they’d entered the Worldwound.
Then Daeran’s smile turned into a smirk as he tucked the rose into his lapel with practiced ease. “And who better to deliver that reminder than me?”
It took a moment before Sosiel could speak again. His face felt warm, and he desperately hoped that Daeran wouldn’t pick up on it. “Just don’t be too disappointed if he’s more focused on tomorrow’s battle than your romantic overtures.”
“Oh, Sosiel, you wound me. This isn’t about disappointment, or about a single night of ecstasy. One rose might not win his heart, but a garden? Ah, that’s another matter entirely...”
Mischief made Daeran’s golden eyes gleam as he gave Sosiel a knowing look. Then he finally turned to leave, and Sosiel tried to gather his thoughts. His heart was still racing.
Damn Daeran, who used beauty to toy with the hearts of others. What man might he be if, like the commander, he saw beauty as a gift to bring joy instead?
“Daeran.” To his embarrassment, Sosiel realized that the word came out slightly breathless.
He hadn’t wanted to continue this conversation. He’d hoped all along that Daeran would leave so that he could enjoy his precious minutes of peace. And yet…
Daeran paused, raising a brow at him as he turned to face him once more. “Yes?”
Sosiel had to swallow before he could speak. “You might surprise him. Not because of the roses, but because of the effort. Just… be sincere, for once.”
Daeran’s expression softened. For a heartbeat, the mask of flippancy cracked, and Sosiel thought he could see something genuine beneath that had been hidden there all along. “Sincerity? You ask so much of me. But, for him… I might consider it.”
***
Later, when Sosiel retired to his own tent, he found a single rose inside, resting on his pillow.
Whether Daeran had been accepted or rejected tonight, Sosiel couldn’t say. And something about the thought of the commander with Daeran still stung.
Still, at the same time, there was a warmth inside Sosiel’s chest that was impossible to ignore. He couldn’t say what it all meant—whether he wanted the commander to spend time with him instead of Daeran, or whether he wanted Daeran to look at him the way he looked at the commander.
Admiring the commander and disliking Daeran had seemed such an easy, natural thing for a priest of Shelyn—but of course, nothing could ever be easy in the Worldwound.
Still. The fragrance of the rose filled Sosiel’s tent when he went to bed, and he fell asleep with it cradled close to his heart—thinking for the first time in a long time not of the commander’s gentle smiles, but the softness of petals against his lips and the gleam of golden eyes.
Shelyn’s light reached as far as the Worldwound, and that was something to be grateful for, no matter how confused it left his heart.