Sharing A Bed

Chapter 15: Sharing A Bed

The System's latest, most outrageous quest – "Share a bed for 6 hours" – still hung in the air. 

The thought of 'Insomnia + Singing Badgers' was almost as terrifying as the forced proximity itself. Well, almost.

Lyra had finally joined us, casually dusting a bit of dirt off her cloak as she'd just popped out for a casual stroll. 

She observed our outraged faces with a look of pure delight. 

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, you two. It's just a bed. Think of it as… a team-building exercise. Besides, you're practically glowing with Bond energy. You need a place where the Temple won't sniff you out instantly. And trust me, the Leaky Cauldron is the perfect place for hiding."

My internal alarm bells, which had only just settled from the Chain-Golem incident, immediately began clanging again. 

"The Leaky Cauldron? Lyra, is that a real name or just one of your mischievous code names?"

Lyra chuckled. "Both! It literally leaks! And it's wonderfully charming in a… well, in a very rustic sort of way. Come on! I already booked you a room. And I paid for it! In actual gold!"

Actual gold? That was tempting. 

And, honestly, my entire body ached. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the lingering phantom ache of Kaelen's arm (my fault, technically) added to my overall misery. 

A bed, any bed, even a leaking one, sounded like a dream. Except for the whole 'sharing with Kaelen' part.

We were tired but managed to follow Lyra, limping our way through the forest. The faint scent of pine soon replaced by the rising dampness of a coming rain. 

The Leaky Cauldron definitely lived up to its name. It was more of a crooked, ancient shack than an inn. 

Rainwater was actually dripping from the sagging shelves, splattering into muddy puddles on the porch. 

The sign was barely legible, swinging on one hinge and creaking a sad tune in the wind. 

It looked like the kind of place where adventurers came to die, or at least get a really bad rash.

"Just charming," Kaelen muttered, his nose wrinkling in disdain. His princely clothes were still soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his body. 

He looked out of place, like a diamond in a dung heap.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, princeling," Lyra chirped, pushing open the sagging door. 

The interior was dimly lit by only a single, flickering lantern. 

The common room was dusty, and smelled of stale ale, wet wood, just like an old inn. 

The Innkeeper peered at us from behind a counter of forgotten mugs. She is wizened with with eyes that seemed to miss nothing. 

She gave Lyra a knowing look, then her gaze stayed on Kaelen and me. 

"Just the one room, eh?" the Innkeeper rasped in a rough voice. 

Lyra winked. "They're… very close. Budget travelers, you know." 

My face burned. I could practically feel Kaelen stiffen beside me. "Just a room to rest," I interjected quickly, my voice a little too high. "No… closeness required." 

The Innkeeper just hummed, a low, skeptical sound, and handed Lyra a rusty key. "Up the stairs. Room three. Mind the leaks." 

Room three was, predictably, an obvious disaster. 

The tiny space contained a single large, rickety wooden bed. There was a bucket on the floor, directly under a visible drip in the ceiling. 

It's only window was grimy, the air was damp with the scent of old wood. 

Kaelen observed the room with the look of a man facing his execution. His gaze fell on the single bed, then on me. 

The look on his face was priceless, it was the picture of horror. 

"You have got to be kidding me," he said, each word dripping with disgust. 

"This… this is the 'safehouse'?"

"It's cozy!" Lyra declared, willfully ignoring the hot tension sparking between us. She gestured grandly at the bed. 

"Plenty of room for… two. Ish. Just enough for the System's quest, anyway! And the leaks will add to the ambience!" 

She then proceeded to wander off, humming to herself, presumably to go text her rebel contacts about our current level of "intimacy."

I glared at the bed. It was wide enough for two, technically. If those two were very, very close and didn't breathe too hard. 

"Absolutely not," I stated, my voice firm. "I will sleep in the rain before I share a bed with you."

Kaelen's eyes met mine. "The feeling is mutual, Chainbreaker. My curse would rather self-destruct than be subjected to your… unique sleeping habits."

"Unique sleeping habits?!" I spluttered. "What does that even mean? I'm a perfect sleeper!"

"I've seen you punch things in your sleep," he retorted, his voice dry. "And you talk. About… dragons. And pastries."

My face flushed hot. "You were spying on me?!"

"The System made us share dreams, remember? And for the record, your snoring could probably fell a small tree."

"I do not snore!"

"You most certainly do."

The argument was pointless,we were stuck. 

After a long, tense standoff of mutual repulsion, Kaelen finally sighed. "Fine," he conceded, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. 

"I will take the floor. Clearly, my princely dignity has reached its lowest anyway."

He started to remove his heavy, waterlogged armor, laying it carefully on the surprisingly clean (for this inn) floor. 

Then, he unlaced his outer tunic, and then his shirt. The air in the tiny room suddenly felt… thicker. 

His sculted chest, was still faintly damp, glistening in the dim light. 

My eyes, much to my frustration, lingered for a moment too long. 

This was purely a scientific observation, of course. A medical assessment of his cursed state. Nothing more.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look, Zahara. He's the enemy. He's the one who tried to hunt you down. He's the walking, talking embodiment of everything you hate about the System. 

My internal monologue was a desperate mantra. 

But a small, traitorous part of my brain, the one that sometimes liked to draw ridiculous fan art, couldn't help but notice.

He arranged his damp tunic on the floor, intending to use it as a makeshift bed. When he was done, he lowered himself to the floor with a grunt, trying to make himself comfortable on the hard, uneven planks. 

A moment later, a strangled groan escaped his lips.

"What is it now?" I asked, my voice irritated.

Kaelen (mind): "My spine is fossilizing. And… there's a rat. A very large, very dirty rat. It just looked at me. With judgment."

I fought back a laugh, clenching my jaw. Alara (mind): "Good. Maybe it'll chew on your stupidly perfect hair."

Kaelen (mind): "Your telepathy has gotten significantly more aggressive since Level 10. And I believe the penalty was insomnia and singing badgers. Not a rat colony."

Alara (mind): "Consider it a bonus feature. And my thoughts are a reflection of your irritating existence, Prince."

The telepathic whining was almost as worse as the physical discomfort. It was a continuous low hum of annoyance in the back of my mind. 

I stretched out on the creaky bed, pulling the thin, scratchy blanket up to my chin. It smelled faintly of dust and stale clothes. 

I tried to focus on the rhythmic plink-plink-plink of the leaking rainwater, hoping it would lull me to sleep.

But sleep wouldn't come. My senses were hyper-aware. I could hear Kaelen sighing and shifting on the floor. 

I could feel his cold aura, even across the small room. I could even pick up the faint, earthy scent of his skin under the dampness. It was ridiculous. 

He was a giant, brooding distraction, even when he was barely moving.

I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position while trying to ignore the giant, cursed man on the floor. 

Every creak of the bed, every rustle of his improvised blanket, sent a shiver of awareness through me. 

This was the System's twisted idea of "bonding." More like torture.

Unseen by us outside, Lyra crouched by the flimsy door, her ear pressed to the creaking wood. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she listened intently. 

She heard the occasional sigh, the shifting, the strained silence. No passionate declarations. 

No whispered confessions. Just… quiet. A very tense, uncomfortable quiet.

She pulled out a small, intricate piece of enchanted tech, her comms device. Her fingers flew across the tiny holographic keyboard, typing out a rapid message to her rebel network.

[To: Rebel_HQ_Gamma]

[From: Chaos_Coordinator_Lyra]

[Subject: Chainbreaker/LostPrince Bond Update]

[Message: Current status: Level 15 (Shared Pain), Location: Leaky Cauldron. Bond progress: ZERO CHEMISTRY. I repeat, ZERO. They just shared a bed (technically, he's on the floor, sigh) and there's absolutely no spark. Do they even KNOW how to flirt? This is a disaster. Need new strategies. Send advice. And maybe better potion ingredients. PS: Found a cool rat. PPS: Potential spy situation. Innkeeper watching too closely.]

Meanwhile, back inside the room, I finally drifted off, only to be jerked awake by a phantom hiccup. 

It wasn't my hiccup. I looked at Kaelen, sprawled uncomfortably on the floor, who looked like he hadn't slept a wink. He let out a soft, almost hiccup. A small sound of defeat. 

Alara (mind): "Singing badgers, huh? Looks like it's just insomnia for you, Prince. Lucky me." 

Kaelen (mind): "You are the bane of my existence, Chainbreaker." 

A small, smug smile touched my lips. At least someone was suffering more than I was.

The Innkeeper had been watching out of habit. She'd seen Lyra, a known Contractless sympathizer, ushering in the two suspiciously glowing, rain-soaked figures. 

She'd noted the strange tension, the way the man occasionally clutched his arm, the way the woman looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and something else she couldn't quite decipher. 

And when Lyra crouched by the door, tapping furiously on a strange device, the Innkeeper's suspicion solidified.

She slipped away from the counter, moving with surprising stealth for a woman of her age. 

From a hidden opening behind the fireplace, she pulled out a small, carved wooden crow. It was smooth, dark, and its eyes glowed with a faint, sickly green light. 

It was a Temple courier raven, a specialized Contracted bird.

She whispered a few words to the crow, her voice barely audible, then released it through a small, high window. The crow launched itself into the stormy night, winging its way towards the Temple.

The message it carried, etched onto a tiny, glowing scroll clutched in its talons, was chillingly brief and to the point.

"Chainbreaker @ Leaky Cauldron. Bring pest control."