[Gale’s POV]
Ovelia’s arms ca around , returning the hug with a gentle, steady pressure. The contact was more than physical comfort. Now that I was near her, the natural, warm energy of her life force—her aura—brushed against my depleted senses. I could feel the faint, steady pull as my own exhausted body instinctively began to siphon tiny amounts of it, a parched root drawing moisture from fertile soil. It was a slow trickle, but it was a start.
Over her shoulder, my gaze landed on the new adornnt in her hair: the hairpin with the crimson rose. The craftsmanship was simple but elegant. Ace. He must have bought it for her. A practical gesture, or a possessive one?
I lifted my head slightly, my eyes eting Ace’s over Ovelia’s blonde hair. The look on his face was a masterpiece of suppressed irritation. His silver eyes were narrowed, his jaw set in a tight line. He didn’t like touching her. The realization sparked a dark, satisfying amusent in my chest. I glanced to the side and caught Ann’s stare. Her black eyes were fixed on , sharp and assessing, a silent warning in their depths. What a pair of jealous mutts, I thought, the irony almost making smirk. The mighty prince and the lethal bodyguard, both ruffled by a half-dead fairy.
"Gale... I’m sorry, it must be my fault—" Ovelia began, her voice laced with guilt as she started to pull away.
"It’s not your fault," I interrupted her, my voice lower, ant for her ears alone. I didn’t want her carrying that burden. The true cause was more unsettling. "I... I think it’s because of the vision I saw..." I whispered the words, unsure if I was conveying them clearly through the fog of my fatigue.
"Vision?" Ovelia asked, her red eyes widening with confusion and concern.
Then, the weight in my right hand reminded . The fairy stuffed toy, its tiny, embroidered smile and glittery wings.
I gently ended the hug, stepping back from her. The world tilted slightly. I forced my legs to lock, to hold upright without her support.
Ace’s hand shot out, gripping my shoulder firmly. It wasn’t a gesture of camaraderie; it was a claim, a way to separate from Ovelia and prop up himself. The blatant, jealous practicality of it was almost delightful.
"Here," I said to Ovelia, my voice a little stronger. I held out the stuffed toy, its soft body a ridiculous contrast to the tense atmosphere.
"It’s cute," she said, her face instantly brightening. She took it from my hand, her fingers brushing mine briefly. She turned the toy over, her smile growing as she examined its flute and iridescent wings. "It looks like you," she said, her smile genuine and warm as she held it up beside my face. Making her smile hadn’t been the primary objective—but seeing the unguarded happiness on her face did sothing strange and warm to my insides.
"The hairpin looks good on you," I said, making a show of glancing at it. Then I inhaled, as if choosing my next words carefully. "But that fairy... it’s soft. Good for hugging when you sleep." I made sure the sentence was clear, enunciating each word.
I heard it then—a low, unmistakable growl, rumbling deep in Ace’s chest. The sound was pure, possessive aggression. It was music to my ears. His grip on my shoulder tightened, fingers digging in just shy of painful. When I tried to turn my head to get a proper look at his undoubtedly stormy expression, my vision swam. The edges blurred into a fuzzy gray haze. I’ve reached my limit. The thought was distant. The strain of keeping my wings invisible and my ears rounded, was a constant, draining leak in my already empty reserves.
Too bad, I thought, the world beginning to tilt on its axis. I can’t see his face... it must be a once-in-a-lifeti... satisfying sight...
[Ovelia’s POV]
One mont Gale was standing there, delivering his barbed comnt with a faint, challenging glint in his gray eyes. The next, his eyes lost focus. The slight, stubborn tension in his body vanished.
"Gale?!" I cried out.
He went completely limp. My left arm, still holding the soft fairy toy, instinctively curled around his back as he slumped forward. His head landed heavily on my shoulder, his white hair brushing my cheek. He was a dead weight.
Ace, his hand still on Gale’s shoulder, grunted with the sudden shift, taking more of the fairy’s weight to keep him from dragging us both to the ground.
"It must be from sheer fatigue," Ann stated, her voice clinical as she stepped closer, her eyes scanning Gale’s pale, slack face for imdiate threats.
"I’ll carry him," Ray said, his tone leaving no room for debate. In one smooth, efficient motion, he stepped forward, slid an arm under Gale’s legs and around his back, and hoisted the unconscious fairy over his shoulder with the ease of soone carrying a sack of grain. Gale’s head and arms dangled down Ray’s back, the picture of utter vulnerability. Ray adjusted his grip, securing him. "He’s lighter than he looks."
"He drained his mana past the point of sustainability," Lady Firera’s voice spoke in my mind, clear and concerned. "The bond is a conduit. Hold his hand. Skin-to-skin contact will allow your aura to flow into him more freely, helping to replenish his reserves."
Without hesitation, I reached for Gale’s dangling hand. His fingers were long and slender, and utterly limp. I wrapped my hand around his, holding it firmly. I didn’t feel anything—no transfer of energy, no warmth, no strange sensation. Just his cold skin against mine. I could only hope it was working.
"Is that necessary?" Ace asked. He had released Gale’s shoulder once Ray took him, and now he was standing close to , his silver eyes fixed on our joined hands. His voice was carefully neutral, but the intensity in his gaze was not.
I nodded, eting his look as I explained. "It might help him to absorb my aura faster, to replenish his mana."
Ace’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he gave a short, tight nod. He didn’t like it.
Suddenly, a loud, prolonged growl cut through the tension. It wasn’t a wolfish sound of threat. It was a deep, gurgling rumble of pure hunger.
All of us looked at Ray. He blinked, then let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle, the sound strangely warm coming from the man currently carrying an unconscious fairy like a sack of grain.
"Sorry," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "It’s just... I haven’t eaten anything except that single piece of squid we had earlier." He shrugged slightly, careful not to jostle his burden. "The chase worked up an appetite."
"What if we eat again at the hotpot restaurant?" Ann suggested, her pragmatic mind already solving the next problem. "Like the last ti we were here. It’s nearby, and they have private dining rooms we can use."
The mory flooded back—the rich, savory broth, the platters of exotic ats, the shared warmth and laughter around the bubbling pot. I rembered the unique, tender texture of the bear paw and the rich, creamy surprise of the boiled ostrich egg. My own stomach gave a sympathetic twitch, and my mouth watered.
"I don’t mind. Let’s go there," Ace said decisively. His hand ca down, not on my shoulder, but around my right wrist, his fingers encircling it with a gentle but undeniable possessiveness. He began to lead the way.
Our strange procession started moving through the festival crowd: Ray in the lead with Gale slung over his shoulder, Ann walking beside him, her eyes constantly scanning, and Ace guiding by the wrist while I held Gale’s limp hand in my other. We were a spectacle, but in the chaos of the festival, we were just another group of revelers, one of whom had perhaps indulged a little too much.
My heart finally settled into a steady, relieved rhythm. Finally, we’re all together again. I looked up at Gale’s face, pale and peaceful in unconsciousness, his head bobbing slightly with Ray’s steps. He was breathing normally, deeply. Please regain consciousness soon, I thought, giving his cold hand a small, hopeful squeeze. We have a hotpot waiting.
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