Azel stood outside the hall in deafening silence, he was doing his best to ignore the rustling of clothes coming from the room.
The rain had stopped completely just minutes after they stepped out, and Azel had instantly sent Fabian out to get a dress for Adelia.
His aide appeared dumbfounded. "First, you summon me out into the rain, and then you send me back out into that very rain to find a healer—not an easy task, mind you." Fabian sighed. "And now, you want me to fetch a... dress?"
"What other choice do I have?" Azel inquired, his brows furrowed. "She will have nothing to wear if her current attire is removed."
"No, Milord," Fabian countered as he pushed up his glasses. "You do have a choice. You could have overlooked this, just as you have done with everything else. What makes this one different? Why intervene in the first place?"
Azel studied him for a moment before turning away, his jaw clenched. "It's just as I said, Fabian," he explained. "I truly don't have a choice." He leaned his head on the wall and a bitter laugh escaped him.
Fabian furrowed his brow. "Is there something you're not telling me, Milord?"
Azel gave him a lopsided smile. "Plenty."
The crease between Fabian's brows increased; a moment later, he sighed and relented. "Very well," he breathed. "Tell me everything when I get back from purchasing the... dress."
"Of course."
His aide prepared himself to disapparate but suddenly stopped and looked over at Azel with a puzzled expression. "How am I to know her size?"
"Hmm…" Azel pondered. "That isn't too much of an issue. She's tiny, so just ask the shop for their smallest size."
Fabian huffed as he started to fade away. "You're going to take the blame if I make the wrong choice," he warned. "Women can be rather... picky." With that, he vanished.
"I'm sure…" Azel stated with a faint smile after Fabian disappeared as he shifted against the wall.
A few moments later, a knock resounded from the opposite side of the door, and Azel sighed, he knew what it meant.
"I apologize," he responded. "But the dress hasn't arrived yet."
"Alright," the woman's voice came from behind the door. "Could you perhaps tell me how much longer it will take? She can't remain... in her current state for too long."
Azel almost chuckled at the healer's choice of words. "Just give it a few more minutes—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Fabian appeared right beside him, clutching a brand new dress that was a vibrant shade of yellow.
Azel wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "Really, Fabian," he began. "...of all the colors…"
Fabian shot a quick glance at the garment hanging from his arm. "Well, beggars can't be choosers," he quipped. "I asked for the smallest size available, and this is what they provided." Then he eyed his master skeptically. "You didn't expect me to be concerned about the color, did you?"
Azel shrugged. "Perhaps a little. You know how much I hate it."
"What does her wearing yellow have anything to do with your personal dislike for it?"
Azel pressed his lips together. "...Nevermind."
Even he couldn't tell exactly why he was so bothered about it in the first place.
Fabian shook his head and gently pried the wooden door ajar, slipping the dress through the gap.
The healer on the other side promptly took it, and Fabian shut the door, turning his attention back to his master.
"I'm listening," he stated simply.
Azel remained silent for a long while. Just as Fabian was beginning to think he wouldn't speak, he finally said, "She's my…" He let out a breath as if the words were difficult for him to say. "She's my mate."
Then he turned to Fabian with a pained expression, only to find his aide with a mouth slightly open in shock.
Fabian adjusted his glasses uneasily and nodded once. "I see..." he mused. "That... that explains a lot."
And he didn't say anything more. He understood, of course he did; why wouldn't he? He had been with his master long enough to know—
A knock sounded at the door again, pulling Fabian out of his thoughts. He turned to it expectantly.
"I'm finished," the healer's voice came from within.
Azel nodded—though she couldn't see him—and turned to his aide. "Take her back to where you found her," he ordered. "And make sure she doesn't retain any memory of this."
Fabian managed a slight bow. "Yes, Milord." Then he disappeared once again. A moment later, Azel heard a series of quips, a scream and then...
Silence.
He opened the door and walked in, scanning the room to see what had changed.
Adelia now lay on the bed in dry clothes, her hair had been released from its braid to let it dry faster. The sheet under her appeared to have been exchanged for an aired one as well.
Azel supposed the healer had found a spare in one of the old drawers beside the bed.
The Knight on Fabian's bed seemed to be faring well too, he had been completely bared from the waist up and a clean bandage was now wrapped around his torso.
Azel's gaze shifted to the floor a few paces from the bed and he was surprised to find the healer's leather pouch still resting there. Well, it didn't matter.
If she found it missing once Fabian was done with her and she regained consciousness, she would simply get a new one.
Seeing Adelia now dry reminded him that he was still drenched. His hands reached to his back to pull off his linen shirt from behind.
He was halfway through, his hands bound in his shirt, when he heard Adelia stir. He looked up and watched her until her eyes fluttered open.
She stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling for several minutes, before she took in a sharp breath and bolted upright.
"Edward!" She exclaimed, swiveling her head. Then her eyes caught on Azel undressing. She stared at him in a daze, before her face flushed crimson. "You—?!"
"I'm just trying to change," Azel blurted out before he could stop himself.
Adelia turned to the window, her discomfort evident in her reddened face. "I… I never asked."
Azel cleared his throat. "...Of course."
"Where's my Knight?" She inquired after a moment.
"Right beside you," he answered flatly.
Adelia turned her head sharply to the other side, her eyes widening. She sprang up from the bed to stand and stumbled slightly.
Azel had to stop himself from rushing to her side, then he saw she could manage on her own.
She hurried to kneel beside the wounded Knight's bed. Her gaze scanned every inch of him, and for some reason, the action irritated Azel. So much so, that he wanted to sink his teeth in something.
But it wasn't something to worry over; after all, the man was almost old enough to be her father.
Wait, he wasn't supposed to be bothered by this in the first place. He swallowed the urge to growl in frustration.
Adelia felt Edward's pulse and sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," she murmured. "He seems stable."
Azel observed her with his golden eyes. "You can tell?"
She turned to him, nodding once. "Did you… were you the one who treated him?"
Azel gave her a small smile and shrugged. "Well, not directly," he admitted. "But I did play a part."
Adelia rose from her place on the floor with some unsteadiness and managed a somewhat graceful curtsy. "Thank—" She began, then halted abruptly.
Her gaze fell to the dress she was wearing, confusion evident on her face. "This… this isn't mine," she said quietly, then looked up at him with a mix of horror and embarrassment. "Did you—?"
"I did not," Azel curtly interrupted before she could finish. "The healer who attended to your Knight was the one who did."
'Although, I did attempt.' He thought inwardly but he didn't dare say it out loud. He knew she was capable of throwing something at him if he did.
Adelia pressed her lips together like she didn't believe him and Azel had to gesture towards the bag a short distance away from her using his chin, since his hands were incapacitated at the moment.
"If my words aren't enough," he continued, "then that should serve as proof."
Adelia followed the line of his sight to the leather pouch, walked over to it, and crouched down to peer at its contents before nodding.
"I understand..." she said simply. "Is the healer gone?"
"Yes."
"Then why is her bag still here?"
"She left it behind," Azel clarified. "I will return it to her when I have the time."
Adelia studied him carefully, he didn't seem to be lying. Hopefully. Unsteadily, she stood up and managed a somewhat graceful curtsy. Again.
"Thank you… so much," she expressed. "I... we owe you our lives."
Azel couldn't help but smile. "Indeed you do," he answered. "Which means I have the freedom to do whatever I want with yours, and I get to keep mine."