Eryshae

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Sam
Bar

Sam walked beside Caldris, the silence between them companionable, stretched only by the soft patter of water dripping from the stone ceiling and the muted echoes of laughter deeper in the baths. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Caldris' hair shimmered like moonlight on a frozen lake; blue, not dyed but born that way, a cascade of cool silk down her back. There was something fluid about her, even in the way she walked; graceful but deliberate, the kind of movement that came from confidence earned, not assumed.

It reminded him of Vael. Not the way Caldris looked; Vael was all rich contrasts and quiet power. Her emerald green hair, deep and earthy, framed her face like living ivy. Wild in a way Caldris was not. Where Caldris shimmered with something ethereal, Vael burned with something deeper.

And yet, here in this world, nothing about either of them felt out of place. People didn't stare at blue hair or green hair. They didn't question eyes like stormglass or skin marked by ancient bloodlines. The extraordinary was ordinary here. A strange kind of peace.

He exhaled as they rounded a corner, following the dimly lit path that led toward the spa's bar; a carved archway glowing with soft golden light and the quiet murmur of conversation. Behind them, steam coiled upward from the stone corridor, the direction Vael and Thorian had gone. Sam didn't look back. But part of him remained behind.

Caldris glanced at him. "You're staring." Sam smirked, unbothered. "Just taking in the view." She didn't blush. Instead, a smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. "Good. Keep doing that and maybe you'll live through today."

She was, in many ways, Vael's opposite. Where Vael was vibrant, with her emerald curls and open expression, Caldris was frost and steel. Controlled. Measured. Beautiful in a way that warned rather than welcomed. He blinked. "...Is that a threat or encouragement?"

"Yes," she said crisply, then pushed open the heavy oak door leading into the spa bar. Just before they stepped in, Caldris slowed her pace and turned slightly, fixing him with a look that might've sliced through glass.

"I suppose I should be polite," she said, her voice precise, accent crisp as a noblewoman raised on battlefield briefings. She extended a gloved hand toward him, fingers bare of rings but scarred from use. "Lady Caldris of the Sapphire Straits. Strategist of the Deep Courts. And fiancée of Thorian Eryshae."

Sam shook her hand, already unsure whether it was a greeting or an interrogation. Caldris tilted her head ever so slightly, lips curling into a thin smirk. "No doubt you and I will be in-laws soon enough." There was a silence between them, not awkward; but taut, like a drawn bowstring. Then she let go and swept into the Spa Bar like a general entering a map room, leaving Sam standing just outside, trying to decide whether to laugh… or salute.

Inside, the ambiance shifted. A soft hum of enchanted instruments played somewhere above. The lighting was warm, golden. The scent of citrus and mint drifted from steaming teapots lined up along a curved marble counter. Runes glowed faintly beneath glass shelves stocked with elixirs, juices, and bottles that looked suspiciously like they were brewed for mischief.

Caldris walked straight to the bar and leaned her elbows onto it like she owned the place. "Lemongrass tonic, chilled. Double twist of sea salt. If you have to ask what that means, bring me whoever does. Make it double for him." Gesturing towards Sam.

The bartender blinked. "Right away, ma'am." She turned back to Sam. "So, you're the one Vael keeps around now?"

"I like to think I keep her around," he said. Her eyebrow rose. "You think a storm like her can be kept?" Sam chuckled. "I don't try. I just don't run." That gave her pause. Not a surprise; but maybe… respect?

She accepted her drink with a nod and took a sip, then gestured for him to sip his own.. "Vael told me a little about you," she said after a beat. "Not much. Said you've got scars for a heart, a past, and a funny way of getting her to smile." Sam exhaled. "She said that?"

"She also said you snore like a dying engine and touch her in your sleep." He flushed. "Okay, that sounds more like her." Caldris leaned back on the high stool, studying him with a gaze that was equal parts calculation and quiet approval. She wasn't someone who wore her thoughts openly, but Sam could tell; she measured people like weapons. Saw their weaknesses. And if she wasn't tearing you down… maybe she'd already deemed you useful.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I'm not here to play big sister," she said coolly. "But if you ever break her, you'll wish I was." Sam nodded, all humor leaving his face. "I'd deserve it." Silence. Then, slowly, a nod from her. They both took a long sip of their drinks.

The bar at the edge of the spa was carved from smooth sea-stone, polished so finely it reflected the lanternlight like still water. Behind the counter, a silent attendant in a coral-toned robe mixed drinks with precision, pouring shimmering liquids from shell-shaped decanters. Around them, soft music played; something between a tide and a lullaby.

Sam leaned his elbow against the bar as he took in Caldris beside him. Her sharp jawline was as uncompromising as her voice, her posture perfect even in repose. She didn't slouch, didn't slink; she occupied space like someone who'd fought to earn it and refused to give an inch back.

"So," Sam said, accepting a glass of something blue and cold, "you and Thorian seem... like opposites." Her eyes slid to him. "Oh, we are. I'm steel. He's smoke. But it works." She traced a finger along the rim of her glass. "He dreams of saving the world. I dream of making sure no one gets in his way." Sam studied her for a long moment. "You really love him."

Caldris didn't answer right away. Her expression softened; not entirely, but just enough to glimpse the soul beneath the armor. "He's the only person who ever saw the strategist and the girl. Didn't flinch from either." Sam nodded slowly. "I think I get it."

Caldris tilted her head. "And you? You see Vael clearly?" Sam didn't answer immediately either. He looked into his drink, then up at the ceiling, then back at her. "I think I'm still learning how. But I'm trying." Caldris smiled again; cool, calculating, but genuine enough. "Good answer."

They drank in companionable silence for a moment before she said, "I was skeptical about you. Still am. But I like people who survive the impossible and come back with worse jokes than they left with." Sam grinned. "Then I'm your man."

"Don't push it." They clinked glasses.

The low murmur of conversation blended with the soft clink of crystal glassware. Sam tilted his drink in hand, catching a shimmer of blue liquor in the lanternlight. The bar was carved from polished coral, cool beneath his forearm, and behind it a lazy stream of aromatic mist drifted through open vents.

Across from him, Caldris lounged in her seat like a predator at rest; shoulders relaxed, eyes sharp. Her cobalt hair was swept back into a high braid, gleaming like wet ink, and her dark lips curled around the rim of her glass before she set it down with an elegant clink.

"I don't make a habit of repeating offers," she said, voice velvet-edged with mischief, "but since you're practically family, I'll extend the courtesy." Sam raised an eyebrow.

Caldris leaned in slightly, elbows resting on the coral surface. "The western shore of the Eryshae Peninsula. Near the Sapphire Straits are olld ruins beneath the cliffs, shattered by the First War. We've been tracking currents, coded maps, and whispered legends from the divers. There's a vault there; buried, half-submerged, and very likely untouched since the Pride's throne crumpled."

Sam's breath hitched just slightly. Caldris's smile sharpened. "I thought that might get your attention. Thorian's already speaking with Vael about it. We'll need all hands. Strategy. Navigation. Power. And you, Sam... you're carrying a piece of Amber in your chest. If there's more in that vault; one like yours, perhaps even stronger; don't you think it's time we found it before someone else does?"

She let the weight of the offer linger. "Besides," she added with a slight shrug, swirling her drink, "I'd be far more comfortable knowing someone I half-trust is watching my back out there. And you, my dear Sam, come pre-vetted by gods, war, and my fiancé's good opinion." Sam took a long sip of his drink, eyes fixed on hers. The silence stretched, thick with steam and sea-salt air. "So?" she asked, head tilted. "Are you in?"

Sam took a slow sip of the cool, spiced liquor and leaned back against the cushioned bench, watching Caldris with a wry smile. Her sharp eyes were as calculating as they were charismatic; like Vael's in some ways, but with a harder edge, a soldier's precision honed by court games and bloodshed.

"You had me at Amber from the throne," Sam said, tapping a finger against his chest. "But I'll need to check with Vael first. She might want a say before I go gallivanting off with a pair in-laws on a treasure hunt."

Caldris raised her glass in salute, lips curling into a smile that was all challenge. "A wise answer. But know this; our expedition has already been approved by both their fathers. Chief Corven and Vice-Chief Farouq gave their blessings."

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice over the soft hum of the spa bar around them. "Thorian is already asking Vael. We have an opening to get ahead of the others, Ni for example with their navy. I'd prefer not to waste time once she says yes, we would need to leave in a week." Sam chuckled. "Are you always this prepared?"

Caldris smirked. "You have no idea."

The spa bar doors burst open with a theatrical clang as Thorian strode in like he owned the world. Heads turned. Conversations faltered. And then; Vael stepped in behind him. Sam barely registered Thorian's sweeping gesture or the way he loudly declared, "And here we are!" His attention snapped to the woman beside him, and everything else blurred.

Vael's hair, usually tousled from wind and travel, was swept up into a regal twist, loose strands artfully framing her face. Her robes were emerald silk, tailored and draped to perfection. The fabric shimmered with every subtle movement, hugging her waist, flaring at the hips, and gliding over her curves like it had been made for her body alone.

Sam's breath caught hard in his throat. His heart kicked against his ribs. Heat climbed his spine like a flare. He blinked; once, twice; and felt something warm slip from his nose.

He touched a finger beneath his nostril.

Blood.