Hostage of Hospitality

Karlach kept my hand the entire way back, grip firm and warm in a way that still felt brand new. The rest of the party trailed behind us at a respectful distance, spiderlings peeling off one by one until only the six of us remained. By the time the chamber came into view, her engine was already thrumming more fast than steady.

Wyll was waiting.

He stood over the cooking setup with the proud posture of a nobleman in his court. The moment he saw us he brightened like a lantern.

“There you are! This time I won’t relent. Everything’s hot. Come on, sit—sit!” He waved us in with both hands. “I want to hear everything. How did it go? Did the forge work the way you hoped? And—Lae’zel.” He stopped short, staring at the battered Grymskull helm now sitting on her head. “I’ve never seen a crown like that.”

Lae’zel touched the metal with two fingers, almost protective. “This is my trophy. Claimed from the Guardian of the forge.”

Wyll nodded, genuine appreciation in his voice. “It suits you. Rugged. Harsh. Very you.”

Lae’zel gave a single, satisfied nod.

Karlach tried to keep walking past the fire and into the privacy of canvas. “Looks great, Wyll. Really. But I’m not hungry. Got other business.”

She made it two more steps before her stomach growled loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Wyll’s smile turned triumphant. “Nonsense!” He pressed a loaded plate into her free hand before she could protest further. “Sit. Five minutes. The food won’t keep, and neither will my curiosity.”

Karlach looked at me with eternal sadness in her eyes, engine flickering from blue to a softer orange at the edges. I shrugged. She sat, and the rest of us followed. Glasses were passed around. Wyll raised his first.

“To Karlach,” he said simply. “May her heart stay steady and her enemies stay far away!”

She rolled her eyes and mumbled something I almost didn’t catch about gods and helping her.

I chuckled and raised my glass.

Conversation came easier after the first drink. Karlach gave Wyll the short version of the fight between bites—how the spiderlings had helped us and turned a legendary battle into something closer to assembly-line work. Kagha added a quiet, proud detail about me taking out all the Mephits in one go. Shadowheart mostly listened, nursing her wine. Lae’zel ate a serving of Rothe ribs with focused intensity, still settling into the way fats and spices melted together in her sensitive mouth.

Dammon was silent, staring off into nothingness, alone with his own thoughts.

Karlach set her empty plate down with a solemn look on her face.

“About tonight,” she said, looking at Shadowheart and Lae’zel. “Can you two hold off until morning? Just this once.” She turned to me. “It’ll be fine, right? Like that time with me—It still worked the morning after.”

I nodded. “Definitely fine.”

Lae’zel’s face twisted into a grimace. Shadowheart, quick as she was, covered her mouth before the protest could fully form.

“It’s fine,” Shadowheart answered, slightly amused. “You get him tonight. We can wait.”

Lae’zel pulled Shadowheart’s hand away, eyes still burning with disagreement. They found mine and held them a moment before her voice settled, measured. “Fine. But come morning I will take what I crave.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “…What you need. Right?”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, then she turned her head. “I said what I meant.”

Silence followed until Kagha rose from her seat and took a step toward Karlach. “I will prepare our tent so that you may rest properly.”

“And where do you plan to sleep?” I asked her, genuinely curious.

She paused, then added, almost casually, “Shadowheart once mentioned having… room in her tent.”

Shadowheart tilted her head. “For Tav… maybe.”

Kagha only smiled, then slipped over to the table and selected a bottle with careful fingers—the one Shadowheart had poured from fastest. “This… will be my offering.”

Shadowheart considered the label as much as the request. “…The Convalmore? Fine. You may stay.” She looked past Kagha to me, a small smirk curling her mouth. “Looks like it’ll be an interesting night for everyone…”

Karlach gave a nod of acknowledgement at Kagha's gesture. Surprise and reluctant gratitude flickered across her face, before she stood a little to quickly.

“It’s now, right?” she asked me, already reaching for my hand.

I took it and returned a nod. “Yeah. It’s now.”

She clenched my hand almost painfully hard. She looked forward to this even more than I did.

Around us the others began to scatter—Shadowheart and Kagha toward one tent with the bottle between them, Lae’zel toward her own with a final, lingering glance. Wyll, already gathering empty plates, decided against asking questions—he couldn’t have the answers anyway.

The fire burned lower.

As we left the celebration for my tent, Karlach’s fingers tightened around mine, warm and steady and finally safe.