Sage the Bog Witch

And she wanted to navigate the thrash of arms and the lash of legs to reach the fellow seated at the bar. It hadn’t been hard to track him down—he’d been sitting close to the kitchen entrance for much of the evening, observing the celebration over the brim of his ale mug.

Of course, it would be her rotten luck that, after an hour of working up her courage to cross the room, the stool he’d occupied would be empty.

Her heart hit her stomach and a roll of nausea threatened to drop her to the beer-tacky floor.

She must have looked inconsolable, because a large hand clapped down on her shoulder, and a woodsmoke-warmed voice said next to her ear. “He just left through the kitchen. You can still catch him.” The corner of Halsin’s eyes lifted with his smile. “That is… if you want to catch him.”

“Shit,” she cursed, pushing away from the table. That blasted bear of an elf knew how to goad her into action.

She’d have to thank him later.

Somehow, Tav evaded the chain of drunken dancers running the perimeter of the dining room. The occasional boot would land too close to her toes, but none managed to break a bone or send her sprawling. She took the back of a flailing hand to the nose but managed to recover and stay her course.

The cloy of body odor and spilled ale set her eyes to watering, whilst the collective body heat of the fifty folk crammed into one space, practically a solid creature in and of itself, set the windows to fogging.

Tav pushed her way through another wall of people, taking advantage of the opening that a barmaid created, and slipped into the kitchen. It was easy enough to pass through the billows of steam and dodge around the cooks to get to the alleyway door, which was propped open with a dented soup pot.

Outside, the air was cool and open. The chaos of the celebration fell away, muffled by the tavern’s walls. Save for the lantern casting flickering shadows, only the stars illuminated the narrow pathway leading out to the street.

And, paused at the mouth of the alleyway, the outline of his figure limned in moonlight, was Zevlor. He looked out on the night, a quiet observer.

Tav’s heartbeat rattled her ribcage and seized at her throat. Her arms went numb and her legs went unsteady beneath her. The draw to retreat into the tavern was near overwhelming. There was familiarity in the noise at her back and uncertainty spread out before her.

As if anything in the last two months had been certain, she reminded herself. One misstep, one wrong move, could have led to death.

But she was here now.

Hells, approaching Zevlor shouldn’t have been so daunting.

It was now or never.

She dragged in a deep draught of air and took three steps forward.

“You know,” she said, the tremor in her chest absent from her voice, “you still owe me a dance.”

Zevlor turned to see her approach, the hard set of his mouth softening and the tension in his shoulders dropping away.

He chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Perhaps,” she mused, glancing about the alleyway as if the random weed or stray piece of rubbish were genuine sources of interest. “It just doesn’t seem like half the party it could be though. There’s no music. And I fear I’ll break my foot with a more careless partner.”

Zevlor tilted his head to the side. “You know, while my time in Baldur’s Gate has been rather limited, I don’t think I have ever heard music played in the Elfsong.”

“That’s none too surprising,” she said, pausing a few paces from him. “Alan forbids it.”

“Oh?”

“He doesn’t want to drown out the ghost’s singing,” she said with a shrug. “I heard a great deal of her in the last few weeks. It’s nice but… I wouldn’t dance to it.”

“And yet you think you’ll find better out here? In a filthy alleyway heaped with trash and… yes, I fear that might be a puddle of piss over there.

“I was mostly hoping to hold my prospective dance partner to task,” she said. “You see, he promised me a dance in, hells, what feels like ages ago. Perhaps it’s only been a month or two? It’s so difficult to tell when the days start to blend together.”

She leaned up against the wall, folding her arms over her chest. “There was another celebration. Not as big as this one, mind you. The wine was turning to vinegar and it was not quite as energetic, but there was music. And dancing. And a rather handsome fellow who was none too keen to join me for a turn or two.”

“Oh, he was keen,” Zevlor assured her.

“Was he?” She tried to smother the hopeful note lifting up the end of her question.

He took a step towards her, a smile playing on his lips. “I hope you can pardon him for being a fool. He was worried about a great deal, but the one thing he shouldn’t have fretted over was taking a moment and spending it with you. I fear he might have lost the opportunity at something… something beautiful.”

Tav eased away from the wall. Her chest was alight with anticipation.

But she closed the distance between them, pausing when he was in arm’s reach.

“See,” she began, “his exact words to me were ‘another time, perhaps.’” She drew in a shaky breath and met his gaze. “So why not now?”

He blinked. “Without music?”

Just at the edges of the whooping and howling inside, a gentle tune warmed the night. Just a few streets down, perhaps, a bard had taken up their violin. And a tender swell of music nudged back at the shouting, a pocket of harmony.

“If I know anything about this city,” Tav said with a hum, “it’s that there are quite a few talented performers about. I’ve never gone without a song when I needed one.”

Zevlor watched her, as if waiting.

She cleared her throat. “May I have this dance?”

A handful of seconds must have passed, but for as long as it took for Zevlor to take in a draught of air to steady himself, it could have been an age.

“I’d be a fool to refuse.” He stooped forward into a bow, one hand outstretched to take hers whilst the other was tucked against his back.

The bard’s song was briefly overwhelmed by another cheer lifted up in the tavern, but in the alleyway, it was eerily quiet, as if all sound had fallen away to a negligible hum.

Tav laid her palm against his, and in one deft motion, Zevlor straightened and drew her flush to his chest. “Is this alright?” he asked, his words barely a whisper.

“More than alright.”

“And this?”

He braced a hand against her hip, letting it lay there lightly as he waited for her answer.

“I imagine there are few other ways that we could dance together,” she said as she took hold of his shoulder. “Besides, I like having you this close.”

His eyes widened, and Tav could have sworn a blush stole over his face.

The rush of blood behind her ears was near deafening. And, though their chests touched, Zevlor leaned forward until the heat of his breath curled against her ear.

“Follow my lead,” he murmured, guiding her out of the alley and onto the cobblestone road.

“Away from the piss puddle?” she asked, a touch breathlessly.

Zevlor faltered, shaking with laughter. “It was never my intention to deprive you, dear lady. If you’d rather we—“

“No, no, this is wonderful.” She leaned into him, savoring the feel of his body against hers.

The cobbles were as pale as fish bone in the moonlight.

The air tasted like mortar and dust.

But the bard continued to sing.

And they danced.

It was a clumsy thing. Tav stepped back instead of forward. They kept forgetting which of them was leading. She tripped on an uneven stone and stepped on his foot.

They dissolved into a quiet fit of laughter.

“I suppose I’m not as good at this as I thought,” she admitted.

“Come now,” Zevlor said, repositioning his feet. “We’ll find a way.”

After two more false starts, they did.

They danced. Slowly, intentionally.

Her eyes never left his, even as they turned in slow circles, hands loosely clasped whilst he held tight to her waist.

“I fear that I wouldn’t have thought of anything but this, had we danced before,” he whispered. “You already occupy my thoughts so completely.”

He rested his brow against hers.

“Sweet talker,” she said.

“I assure you that I am anything but,” he replied. “Perhaps I was selfish, but I told myself that, if all else failed, I could keep going until you and I finally had our dance. I could hold on until then.”

They came to an easy halt. “So what happens now?” she asked. “Now that we…”

He chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t dare ask more of you than this.”

Tav blurted out her question without sparing it a second thought.

“But what if I wanted to ask more of you?”

Zevlor drew back. “I… what would you have of me?”

“Whatever you would be willing to share with me,” she said. “Zevlor, I’m hardly subtle. I ran into a rubbish-strewn alleyway to catch up with you. I want…” She swallowed. Her heart slammed in her chest, threatening to snap her breastbone and crack her ribcage open. “I want you. But only if—“

Zevlor grazed her jawline with his fingers, turning her face up to his. He looked at her with a tenderness that made the ground beneath her cease to exist.

Tav leaned forward, and Zevlor sealed the empty space between them, kissing her. She gripped the front of his armor, keeping him flush to her as she got drunk on his breath. He tangled a hand into her hair, drawing a moan from her that he then swallowed.

“I’ll dance with you every night,” he promised, kissing down the side of her face. “I’m yours. So long as you’ll have me.”

“You’ll find I’m difficult to get rid of,” she said with a laugh.

Threading his fingers between hers, Zevlor said, “You seem to be under the impression that I’m not besotted with you, my dear.” He laid a kiss over her knuckles. “I’ll need to spend some time correcting that notion.”

Her cheeks flared with color and her bare neck prickled with a blush. “I look forward to it.” She draped her arms over his shoulders, tracing circles into the back of his neck, earning herself an appreciative shiver.

“Should I stop?”

“No,” he said, his tone gravelly. “It feels nice.”

“Oh, good.” She pressed her lips to the edge of his mouth, lingering there, breathing him in. “I’d rather like to learn what makes you unravel—wait, was that too forward?” Oh, gods. It was, wasn’t it?

He smiled against her skin. “Unravel me.”

Heat shot from her chest and spread through her limbs, setting her alight.

As if sealing a promise with a breath and pressing an oath into flesh, they kissed again. The cobbles under their feet seemed rather far away, but that was fine. Zevlor was solid against her.