The Order of Elysia

Chapter 22- Secret encounters

It was well past curfew and Lilly was just on her way to the dormitory, when she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette disappearing into the maze of alleys just beyond the outer courtyard of the temple. The man moved with purpose, his strides long, his cloak billowing slightly behind him in the wind and though every reasonable part of her told her to go home, to return to her cot and pretend she hadn’t seen him, something strange gnawed at her chest and pulled her forward.

What was Thorndale doing out here at this hour? He moved with purpose, not like a man wandering for air and something in his secrecy tugged at her curiosity. It wasn’t reasoned, not a choice she had weighed, more like an impulse that seized her, a restless certainty that wherever Thorndale went, answers would be waiting in his shadow. She didn’t know what she hoped to uncover, only that to ignore this chance would gnaw at her far worse than the risk of being caught.

Her steps were silent, careful and always a few paces behind him. She told herself it wasn’t really spying, just confirming a suspicion, or maybe, she just wanted to know what game he was playing. He didn’t glance back once, but his movements were fluid and certain, like he had a destination. His trail led her deeper into the city, past shuttered storefronts and the glowing windows of late-night taverns, until Thorndale disappeared through a wooden door beneath a painted sign- The Drunken Maiden. The carving showed a busty woman laughing, two tankards in hand, but even from the street, Lilly could sense the truth- it wasn't just a tavern, it was the brothel Raven had told her about.

Her heart thudded in her ears, not from shame or fear, but from rising tension. If he was truly tangled in something dark, she needed to know, after all, if someone caught on to the Warden's lies, her head would be rolling too. The moment she stepped inside, the air changed; it was heavy, sweet with perfume, sweat and wine and laughter rang through the dim room, mingled with sultry music played on stringed instruments. Women with cinched waists and painted lips floated from table to table, perched on laps and whispering into ears, their corsets lifting and pressing soft curves into the arms of the men that pawed at them greedily.

A woman with black hair and a black velvet choker straddled the leg of a Chronicler near the hearth. Another, pale and silver-haired, with dark coal framing her eyes, leaned down to offer a glass of amber liquid to a grizzled Warden, her cleavage spilling forward in a way that made Lilly's cheeks flush instantly. She shouldn't be there, but gods, she was curious. Curious in the kind of way that heated her neck and made her legs feel unsteady. Curious about how these women moved, how they held power in the way they leaned in, whispered and laughed in just the right moment. She caught herself staring at their confidence, their rhythm, the game they played so easily.

Someone bumped into her and Lilly flinched. "Well, aren’t you a pretty thing.”, slurred a voice next to her. A hand brushed her hip and she spun around to find a man with ale in his breath, lips too close to hers. "How much, sweetheart?”

"I’m not-”, she snapped and slipped out of his reach before the heat in her face exploded into panic. She quickly moved deeper into the room, eyes scanning the crowd for the Warden. Lilly exhaled and pressed herself against the wall of the back of the room when she saw him. Warden Thorndale sat alone behind a gauzy curtain of dark blue silk, his face half-obscured by the flickering light of a lantern. He wasn’t drinking and he looked... tense. Waiting. For a prostitute?

Lilly ducked low behind a group of laughing men and her pulse thrummed in her throat. Thorndale had lied to the Order and dragged her into it and now he slipped through alleys and disappeared into brothels with secrets clinging to his boots like horseshit. She moved closer slowly, careful to stay out of sight, weaving between velvet-cushioned booths and the swaying bodies of patrons. The mingled scents of spiced wine and rose oil clung to the air, dizzying Lilly. She ducked behind a carved wooden pillar as a courtesan burst into laughter, tossing her hair back as she climbed into a man’s lap.

Lilly’s eyes flicked to the silk veil separating Thorndale’s alcove from the main room. She was only a few steps away and then, without warning, the room fell silent, not just quiet, but empty. The music stopped mid-note and the laughter cut off like a blade through paper. Lilly looked around and saw nothing but dark fog, thick, slow-moving and unnatural, like ink poured into water. It rolled over the floor, curled around her ankles and swallowed the distant tables and lanterns whole.

Her breath hitched; there were no footsteps, no whispers, no women in corsets or drunken shouts. Just the curtain. Just him. She stepped forward, she knew he had seen her and that this was his doing- an illusion. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the edge of the curtain. Lilly pulled it aside and there sat Thorndale, in the far corner of the dim lounge, one arm draped loosely over the back of a red velvet bench, the other nursing a dark glass of something stronger than wine. Shadows flickered over his face, thrown by the low lantern light, but Lilly could still make out the line of his jaw and the way his black hair fell in careless strands across his forehead.

His coat hung open, revealing the lean muscle beneath the soft folds of his tunic. There was a dark, quiet gravity about him, a tension that settled in his shoulders and across his brow. He looked dangerous, unreadable and infuriatingly attractive. His eyes flicked to her as she stepped through the curtain.

"I didn’t expect to see you here.”, he said almost mockingly, his voice smooth as polished stone, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. "Or are you following me?”

Lilly shrugged, doing her best not to show how fast her heart was pounding. "I didn’t know I needed an invitation here.”

She let her gaze drift briefly around the room. "Or is this where you bring your secrets when you're not dragging others into them?”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, swirling the glass in his hand once before taking a slow sip.

"I didn’t picture you the type to pay for company.”, she added, her tone lighter than she felt. "But I guess I was wrong. Although-” her voice dropped as she stepped a little closer, "I do remember you already had someone pressed up against you at the Festival of Lightbinding. It looked like she didn’t charge you a copper though.”

His lips curled into a faint smirk. "I don’t have to pay.”, he said, voice low. "They usually come by free will.”

"Is that why you are avoiding me? Because you were busy dealing with all the women throwing themselves at you?”, in her voice was a barely noticeable trace of bitterness as she said it.

He tilted his head, his smile fading, his voice now cold and distanced: "You said you didn’t want to be associated with traitors. I was just being considerate.”

She folded her arms. "So it’s true then. You’re hiding things from the Order. Working against Solendris.” A long pause stretched between them, but then his gaze found hers.

“I can assure you,” he said calmly, "that nothing I did went against the interests of the Order.”

"So, your loyalty does belong to the Order?”, Lilly’s voice was quiet but firm.

Thorndale didn’t answer at first, he just looked at her closely as though weighing how much truth she could handle and how much he was willing to give her. Then, his gaze drifted toward the glowing lantern above their booth and he exhaled through his nose.

"Loyalty isn't a fixed thing. It bends under the weight of truth, of time or of necessity. What seems betrayal to one may be survival to another.” he said at last, his voice a quiet echo. Her fingers curled against her palm. "What kind of game are you playing?”

His reaction was sudden, like an arrow loosed without warning, as his body stiffened and his eyes snapped to something, or someone, unseen beyond the curtain. For a second, Lilly thought he’d heard a sound she didn’t and then-

"Lilly.” His voice was inside her head. Clear, calm and commanding. Her name wasn’t spoken aloud, she felt it, as though the words had bloomed behind her eyes and rang through her mind with unsettling clarity.

"Play along. No questions. If you want to see the sunrise, do exactly as I say.”

Her breath hitched, as her eyes darted to him, but his lips hadn’t moved. What was that? His words carried weight, but she was startled as her heartbeat thudded wildly in her chest. She barely had time to react or to make sense of what had just happened, because in the next breath, Thorndale’s hand closed firmly around her wrist, his grip unrelenting but not painful and with the grace of a seasoned predator, he pulled her onto his lap.

She gasped when her body landed against his thigh, tense and unprepared and the world around her tilted, spun and then narrowed. The sounds of music, laughter and conversation that had filled the lounge were all back at once and in the blink of an eye, Lilly’s plain tunic and trousers dissolved into something entirely different. She looked down at her body and found herself clad in a deep crimson gown of soft, flowing silk that clung to her body. The bodice was laced tightly, low-cut and revealing the curve of her collarbone and the top of her breasts. Her legs were bare beneath a scandalously high slit that ran up her thigh and her feet were wrapped in delicate gold-threaded sandals.

Lilly gasped, but not entirely out of protest. Play along. No questions. If you want to see the sunrise, do exactly as I say. Thorndale’s words rang in her ears, gluing her to the position he had pulled her to, as they held such gravity, that she did not dare to find out how much truth they held.

"What-?”, she began, stunned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don’t speak.”, Thorndale muttered into her ear, just as the curtain behind them was pulled aside.

But the weight of his body beneath hers, the warmth of his hand now curled around her wrist, the heat in his breath, those were not imagined.

The curtain to the lounge shifted and Lilly immediately stiffened when a man entered, but not just an ordinary man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black velvet with a silver clasp at his throat that bore a snake coiled around a dagger. His hair was dark at the base and threaded with iron grey, slicked back to reveal a widow's peak that gave him a regal, almost predatory look. He was between fifty and sixty, but his handsome features still showed, despite his age and he radiated pure authority. His eyes, a piercing, almost unnatural green, scanned them like a blade, pausing the moment they landed on her.

His brow arched slightly. "Aurin.", he said, voice smooth as velvet. "I didn’t realize you were... entertained today." Thorndale's body, so rigid only a heartbeat ago, relaxed with practiced ease. His hand, now on Lilly's waist, remained firm and possessive, but somehow grounding.

"Even I require distraction now and then.", he replied coolly. "Though I should’ve guessed you'd feel right at home in a place like this."

The man chuckled, low and humourless, took a few steps closer and Lilly felt the air shift with him, dense and hot like a forge, thick with something unspoken.

“Leave us.”, Thorndale murmured to Lilly as his hand slipped from her waist, but the man raised a hand lazily, a smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“No need.”, he said, his voice smooth like oiled steel. “She’s pleasant to look at. Let her stay.”

“But she will-”, Thorndale began, but he was interrupted by a slow, menacing laugh. The man waved a dismissive hand and his tone was indifferent. “Let her stay. She is a w***e, she won’t understand half of it and if she does…I trust you to take care of it.” His gaze raked over Lilly with unhurried, possessive hunger. “Who knows, perhaps I’ll take her when you’re finished.”

Lilly's stomach turned, that man was vile, disgusting and calculated and every instinct in her body screamed to run, but she forced herself to stay still, to breathe and to play along, as she did not dare to test if the Warden’s warning was valid or not. Thorndale's jaw clenched, but he smiled thinly. "She’s mine tonight."

The man’s gaze narrowed. "Does she speak? Or is she just for show?"Lilly opened her mouth, but Thorndale beat her to it.

"She sings when I let her.", he said, eyes still on the man and then he slid his hand from her waist up her back, slowly and deliberately and her spine straightened involuntarily.

That seemed to satisfy the man. He turned, finally walking to the cushioned chair across from them and settled down. Even though the illusion of casual indulgence was fragile, it held. Lilly exhaled slowly, her breath trembling. Her body was tense and her heart hammered, but yet she could feel Thorndale beneath her, his thigh firm between her legs and his warm breath at the shell of her ear. Her face burned, not just from embarrassment, but from something far more confusing.

“Funny times we live in.”, the man mused, voice deceptively casual. “All this tension and still no one can agree on who’s listening to whom.”

Thorndale gave a tight smile. “Some ears are sharper than others. Even old allies forget how deep the roots grow.”

“True- its a shame.”, the man said in a measured tone, before he added. “Though I suppose not everyone sees opportunity where others see instab-. You’re tense, girl.”, he said suddenly, his green eyes narrowing. “Are you sure you’re in the right profession?”

When Lilly glanced up, she caught the stranger’s gaze lingering on her, not with lust, but something different- he was watching her, assessing her. He gave her the kind of look that didn't just undress a body, it peeled back intentions and she knew with absolute certainty that he could see through the cracks and smell her fear like blood. If she wanted to walk out of this room, she had to become the part. Before Lilly could react, Thorndale’s voice pressed against her thoughts like steel wrapped in silk again:

"You have to play along a little better to convince him."

Lilly’s pulse spiked, but she forced her laugh to come easy and warm, as she let her lips curl into a slow smile, unhurried and purred: “Only because I had hoped to spend some time alone with the Warden.”

Lilly then let her fingers graze Thorndale’s collarbone, feather-light and suggestive. She leaned in close, her lips just brushing the curve of his ear, her voice low and sultry. “Mmm… and I thought I’d be your only distraction tonight.”

As she spoke, her fingers smoothed down the front of his chest and she briefly felt his breath hitching, just barely, but enough. Beneath her palm, the rhythm of his heart had changed, no longer steady and calm but pulsing. His jaw tightened, but not from anger, it seemed more like restraint. He wasn't loathing it, her touches, her voice, the way she leaned in as if whispering secrets against his skin.

Thorndale’s hand drifted along the curve of her thigh in response, slow and deliberate, his fingertips tracing lazy lines through the fabric of her dress. He leaned in, his breath warm at her ear, while his thumb slid just beneath the hem, subtle and possessive, like he was reminding her of the game they were playing and that she was his piece on the board. When she shifted slightly on his lap, his hand moved higher, grazing her hip with a quiet firmness that made her nerves flare.

The stranger’s expression lingered on them, scrutinizing, but her boldness had caught him off guard, at least for now. A low, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest. Thorndale remained still, but she could feel the tension coiled beneath his skin. When his fingers found her thigh under the table and gave it a subtle, approving squeeze, she knew she had passed the assignment.

When the Warden finally told her to fetch them something strong, she rose in one smooth motion, slow and languid, hips swaying with calculated grace. She bent slightly over him as she did, her fingers lingering on his shoulders, exposing her cleavage to him and when she passed the menacing stranger, her hand ghosted across his back with just enough pressure to signal flirtation without presumption. Her voice, when it came, was sweetened honey with an edge of bite.

“Something strong.”, she said playfully, “For men with… strong appetites.”

She glanced back at the two men and just as her fingers touched the fabric, she saw it. On the man’s right hand, half-shielded by his sleeve, shimmered a mark, a crest burned into his skin like a brand, and a curled serpent with two tongues placed on it. A chill coursed through Lilly’s veins. She knew that symbol, as she had seen it before, in the margins of her father’s journal, but she didn't let her expression give her surprise away to the two men, before she left the lounge into the tavern.

Getting drinks had taken longer than expected, due to some issue with the keg; the tavern girl had said something about needing to tap a fresh barrel and the delay gnawed at her nerves. Her instincts told her to run away, but she feared the consequences if she did. By the time Lilly returned with the drinks balanced carefully on a polished wooden tray, she found only Thorndale seated where she'd left him and the stranger was gone.

He sat alone, elbow on the armrest, his hand at his mouth, his fingers resting against his lips in thought and his other hand draped loosely across his knee, but his eyes were dark and faraway and he didn’t immediately look up as she entered.

When his gaze finally lifted, it lingered on her, before he said: “Well played.”, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth, that might almost have been approval, formed itself. “For a moment, I nearly believed the act myself.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks before she could stop it, the praise catching her off guard, leaving her both flustered and somehow ashamed. She busied herself with the tray in her hands, placing it down carefully to steady herself.

“Where is he?”, Lilly asked then, her voice steadier than she felt.

Thorndale exhaled through his nose loudly, finally meeting her gaze. “He had to leave.”

Lilly blinked. “And who was he?”

“You ask too many questions.”, he curtly replied, but at the sight of Lilly’s pouted lips, he let out a sigh and added: “He’s... a friend.”

Lilly let out a groan, half a laugh. “A friend?” Her brow arched as she crossed her arms. “Funny kind of friend, if you ask me. If he’s such a good friend, why the hell did I have to act like your private w***e?”

Thorndale didn’t flinch, he just ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “Because he would have not taken it lightly, if he knew who you were.”

Her heart was racing, not just from the encounter, but from a creeping suspicion that settled like cold iron in her gut. Was this somehow about her father? The raids, the accusations that had torn through families in the name of loyalty?

Lilly stepped closer, watching his expression closely. “So, he is someone you work with?”

He hesitated, just long enough for her to know it wasn’t a no. Then, finally, his voice came low. “Yes.”

That one word felt like a door creaking open, as Lilly hadn’t expected honesty and it emboldened her. “And what exactly did your friend want?”, she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“We talked. That’s all.” There it was, that familiar wall, the mask, the practiced deflection.

Lilly sighed. “So you’re not just loyal to the Order.” It wasn’t a question and Thorndale knew as he said nothing, which seemed close to a confession to Lilly.

“That symbol.”, she continued, her tone careful but unyielding. “The serpent on the crest . What is it?”

Thorndale paused for a few moments before he responded. “The glyph is a mark of origin. Nothing more.” The finality in his tone made her bristle and Lilly knew his patience with her questions was over.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and loaded, when Lilly glanced down at herself and blinked. “Why am I still wearing this f*****g dress?”

Thorndale’s mouth quivered slightly at the corner, he seemed more relaxed all of the sudden. “Didn’t seem like the right moment to undo the illusion.”

Lilly groaned and dropped into the nearest chair, tossing her legs over the side in exasperation. “Next time you want me to play your w***e, at least let me know when I can take the costume off.” Thorndale didn’t answer and his eyes lingered on her, but the dress didn’t vanish.

“Oh, you can take it off, if you like.”, he teased her.

Lilly leaned back in the chair, arms crossed now over the exposed neckline of the illusion-dress, trying to ignore how his gaze didn’t move away. There was something in his eyes now, not the cold calculation she’d grown used to. No, it was something different, darker, it looked more like desire.

Did she turn him on? The realization hit her like a bucket of cold water and yet, beneath the embarrassment rising in her cheeks, there was something else- a flicker of satisfaction and of power. Her cheeks flushed deeper as she straightened. “What do you actually want from me?”

Her voice cut clean through the thick air between them, harsher than she intended, but gods, she was tired of riddles, tired of half-answers and secrets and she was pissed about the situation he had just put her in.

His expression didn’t shift much, but that look in his emerald eyes? It deepened. The Warden’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came from it. His brows furrowed as if he was genuinely struggling for an answer. Finally, he exhaled, low and rough. “I don’t know.”, he said quietly.

Lilly scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m not your plaything, Warden. First you tear me apart, then you look at me like that.” Her hands gestured wildly between them, frustration boiling over. “Don’t think for a second that what happened here in this lounge means I’m considering sharing a bed with you. I’m no one you can f**k whenever you decide to.”

A beat of silence followed that felt like endlessness to Lilly.

“I know.”, he finally said, his voice was softer than expected. No smirk, no witty retort, just two words, quiet and steady.

Somehow, that disarmed her more than anything else, forcing her to lose all her wittiness. Then, just like that, the silken dress vanished without a trace, replaced by the familiar weight and rougher fabric of her training tunic and boots. The illusion was gone and the act was over.