Chapter 4 We Are Husband and Wife!

"I don't have time for a tea party! I left a dragon lord screaming at me on a dirt road in the middle of the fifty-years-ago wilderness! Put me back!"

"Relax, Last Heir. Time inside the Timekeeper’s Haven is decoupled from the earthly realm. A hundred days here is less than a heartbeat out there. You will return to the exact millisecond you vanished, down to the speck of mud falling off your dragon friend's boot."

Thalassa exhales. "Okay. Good. So... what is this place?"

"This is a pocket sanctuary forged by the first Timekeepers. As you mend anomalies in the real world, this haven unlocks tools, seeds, and magical upgrades. You complete tasks, and the Haven rewards you with things to help you survive, build a home, and run a proper shop."

The leather ledger snaps open and golden Elven runes shift into clear text.

[INITIAL QUEST: SECURE A HEARTH]

Objective: Find and secure a cottage or dwelling in Oakhaven for you and your companion.

Time Limit: Before nightfall.

Reward: 1x Temporal Seed Pouch (Fast-Growing Kitchen Herbs) & 1x Cozy Feather Mattress (Dual-Sized).

Thalassa eyes the reward line. "Dual-sized feather mattress?"

"A dragon lord forced to sleep on a lumpy straw pallet is a whiny dragon lord," the sprite points out dryly. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer sharing a narrow cot with an overgrown lizard?"

Heat rises to Thalassa’s cheeks. "The mattress will do fine. How do I get back?"

"Touch the pocket watch in your apron," the sprite instructs, doing a loop in the air. "I'll be watching from inside the casing. Complete the task, and the rewards will appear in your Haven chest."

Thalassa reaches into her pocket, wraps her fingers around the silver casing, and closes her eyes.

SNAP.

The scent of lavender vanishes, replaced by pine, wet dirt, and Aurel’s furious breath.

"—not a squeaky door hinge!" Thalassa finishes shouting without missing a beat.

Aurel hasn't even blinked. To him, no time has passed. He is still glaring down at her, fists clenched.

"I don't care if it's ancient magic or a rusty lock," Aurel growls, stepping closer. "Fix it. We cannot stay in this dusty backwater."

Thalassa steps back, smoothing down her apron. "We can't fix it right now. Look at the sun. It's going down in a few hours. Your magic is suppressed, my tools are in my shop fifty years in the future, and neither of us has a penny. If we don't find shelter before nightfall, you'll be sleeping in a ditch."

Aurel sneers. "A dragon lord does not sleep in ditches."

"Then a dragon lord had better follow me into town and look useful," she retorts.

She marches down the dirt road toward the distant chimneys of Oakhaven. Aurel scowls, but with no guards arriving and his stomach letting out a faint rumble, he falls into step beside her.

As they draw closer to the village, the reality of fifty years past blooms around them. Cottages with thatched roofs, smoking chimneys, and flower boxes line the cobblestone path.

Elves and common folk walk freely, carrying baskets of apples, laughing without fear.

It is breathtaking… and dangerous for a Dragon Lord.

"They don't fear dragons here. They hate them. Fifty years ago, this territory was full of rebellion. If they discover what I am, we won't be greeted with bows. We'll be greeted with pitchforks."

Aurel crosses his arms. "We shouldn't be slumming it in a small town of low-born commoners. We need an imperial stronghold or a dragon town.”

"I am not walking fifty miles to a dragon stronghold," Thalassa counters.

She remembers the ledger. Objective: Secure a dwelling in Oakhaven before nightfall.

"Besides, the pocket watch brought us here. If I want answers about its magic and a way home, they are in Oakhaven. We stay."

She looks him up and down.

"You're way too grand. You look like you're about to buy the village just to execute it."

Before he can protest, Thalassa reaches up, unbuckles the fur-trimmed mantle from his shoulders, and tosses it over her arm. Then she pulls a square of linen from her apron pocket.

"What are you doing?" Aurel flinches. "Unhand me!"

"Hold still, you giant baby!"

She wraps the cloth over his forehead, hiding his striking hairline, and ties it at the base of his neck.

She steps back, inspecting her handiwork. Without his extravagant attire, he looks simply like a strikingly handsome travelling merchant.

"There. Now you blend in."

Aurel’s jaw tightens. "I look ridiculous."

"You look like someone who won't get mobbed by an angry village. Now we need a story. We can't enter town looking like strangers wandering off the road."

Before she can move, Aurel’s hand shoots out. His fingers wrap around her wrist, and with a swift pull, he yanks her against his chest.

Thalassa gasps as her palms press against his warmth. His suppressed dragon magic radiates like a cozy hearth, carrying the scent of cedarwood and embers.

Aurel leans down, his lips hovering near her jaw. His thumb brushes the side of her neck, sending a dangerous shiver down her spine.

"How about husband and wife? It solves our problem neatly, doesn't it? And once we find a way back home... I will punish you for every insult, little artisan, and make you my wife for real."

Thalassa barely hears him. The heat of his skin, the intensity of his eyes, the arm around her waist… it all leaves her speechless for two embarrassing seconds.

She forces herself to scoff.

"Dream on, 'husband,'" she says, pushing against his chest to create an inch of space. "We are selling the husband and wife story because we have no other choice."

She clears her throat, trying to regain control of her runaway pulse. “The story we are selling is: I am a travelling mage, and you are my jobless, simple-minded human husband whom I married for his pretty face."

Aurel’s eyes widen. "Jobless? Simple-minded? Me??"

"It explains why you look aristocratic and don't know how to do an honest day's work," Thalassa calls over her shoulder, marching toward the village gates. "Now keep up, dear. We have a cottage to find before dark!"