Chapter 68: Memories…

He stepped forward and, with his free hand, absently brushed against the scales, as though he were no longer truly present but lost inside a memory.

Which was probably the case.

If Blanche had not followed the movement with her eyes, she would have sworn the scales glowed brighter beneath his touch, as though they reacted to him. A shiver ran through her. Aaron then resumed walking, guiding her toward the mess hall kitchens.

With an expert yet gentle motion, he caught her by the hips and lifted her onto the counter.

Surprised, the young woman stayed perfectly still while he moved away toward the barbecue's still-glowing embers, rolling up his sleeves. Blanche had seen him perform those gestures a thousand times, and yet they still fascinated her.

"How did we meet?" she asked, wetting her lips.

"During a war," he replied, placing two cuts of meat on the grill, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder.

His hair, slightly wavy from the heat, shifted with every movement, somehow making him even more attractive. A few dark strands occasionally fell across his forehead before slipping back again whenever he turned his head or absentmindedly ran a hand along the back of his neck. The light caught softly on those reflections, emphasizing the natural waves the warmth and humidity had shaped through his hair.

There was something unbearably elegant about that apparent carelessness.

Nothing about him ever seemed truly calculated, and that was probably what made him so dangerous. Every gesture appeared natural, fluid, almost lazy at times, as though he were completely unaware of the effect he had on the people around him. And yet every movement instinctively drew the eye.

Even standing still, he radiated a presence that was impossible to ignore.

And when his hair moved like that around his face, softened by the surrounding warmth, it gave him an almost unreal charm — something caught between the insolent beauty of an old painting and the more living, more unsettling allure of a man perfectly aware of his own attractiveness without ever openly needing to use it.

"A war?" she repeated, her throat suddenly dry.

The player gave her a teasing smile.

"We were enemies. I'd accepted a contract with the dark elves even though every instinct I had screamed it was a terrible idea... but I needed money."

Lacking garlic, he cast a quick glance at the meat before tossing an entire onion directly onto the embers. Then he began slicing mushrooms, adding hazelnuts and walnuts.

"You were on the opposing side — the wood elves' camp. I was being paid as a mercenary to prevent any intrusion. I was guarding a room behind closed doors. Back then, I had no idea what was inside, and frankly, I didn't care. I already had a pretty miserable opinion of human nature in this world."

He flipped the meat and added rye bread to the grill to toast it. Then, completely unfazed by the heat, he retrieved the onion and began cutting it barehanded.

"It was night when you arrived. I let the guards intercept you... and you wiped them out with the snap of your fingers. Without even drawing your sword. Unlike me. The moment you saw me, you stopped your entire strategy dead. Actually, you even started flirting with me. Completely threw me off balance."

He winked at her while Blanche blushed instantly.

The gesture had been quick, almost casual, paired with that slight smile at the corner of his lips that seemed to come naturally to him. And yet it was enough to send a violent wave of heat rushing into her cheeks.

And the worst part was that he probably knew it.

Blanche looked away vaguely for half a second before immediately looking back at him again, incapable of doing otherwise. She simply could not take her eyes off him — which did not seem to bother the warrior in the slightest as he continued preparing his recipe.

If anything, the opposite.

He continued moving with perfect calm, as though the situation silently amused him. His hands moved confidently over the counter, cutting, mixing, occasionally tasting something from the tip of his fingers with that almost hypnotic ease possessed by people used to mastering what they did. The warm kitchen light slid across his bare forearms, traced the lines of his profile, and occasionally caught a few slightly wavy strands falling before his eyes.

Blanche felt her heartbeat speed up in a profoundly irritating way.

It was ridiculous.

Ridiculous and deeply unfair that a man could look that attractive while simply cooking food.

The most unbearable part remained that impression of absolute ease. He was not even trying to attract attention. He simply existed with that quiet confidence, that steady and almost dangerously reassuring presence that made her want to stay there watching him for hours for no valid reason whatsoever.

And apparently, he was letting her.

In a pan, he sautéed the onion with fresh raspberries, dried fruits, and mushrooms before mixing everything together. He wiped his hands on the towel, then leaned against the counter, his eyes locked onto the young woman's.

"You explained to me very calmly that I was keeping a young wood elf prisoner. The kingdom's princess, no less. And that you had come because she was the sister of one of your friends. You knew — I still have no idea how — that I was only there for the money, and that if I helped you instead of fighting you, you'd pay me double. I hadn't had that much fun in ages."

His gaze gleamed at the memory.

Aaron returned to cooking with a rogue-like grin. He seasoned the meat, flipped it one last time, removed the bread from the grill, and placed it onto two plates.

"Of course I accepted. Who wouldn't have? You intrigued me, and your reason was far nobler than mine. We returned the little girl to her parents after spending a night beneath the stars, crossing fields together. One of the best nights of my life. To thank us, they organized a ball in our honor. Naturally, you neglected to mention that I had originally been on the enemy side."

He removed the pan from the heat and spread the compote mixture over the toasted bread before slicing the meat into thin strips.

He arranged the slices over the tartines and handed one plate to Blanche, waiting for her reaction. She took a bite without hesitation.

It was absolutely delicious.

Aaron never took his eyes off her. Uncomfortable beneath the intensity of his stare, she asked:

"And then?"