Chapter 31.5: Rissa’s Greatest Tragedy

I woke up with a hangover. Again. You’d think after all this time I’d learn, but apparently, self-destruction is my one consistent hobby. Elven wine was a treacherous bastard—smooth as silk going down, but in the morning it felt like someone had set up a forge inside my skull.

The silk sheets slid across my skin as I shifted in bed. Wait. Slid? Why were they sliding? Oh, fuck. I was naked.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not exactly a prude. But I don’t usually sleep in the nude. Too vulnerable, too exposed, too… well, “oops, what did I do last night?”

I cracked my eyes open. Morning sunlight spilled lazily across the room, painting everything in warm gold. Too early for anyone sane to be awake. The air smelled… cloying. A mix of musk and roses. Way too refined for someone who’d grown up surrounded by chickens and pig shit. It made my nose itch just breathing it in.

Then came the sound. A sigh. Right next to my ear.

I froze. Every hair on my neck stood at attention. That sigh wasn’t just air—it was scented, soft, intoxicating in a way that could’ve driven sober men insane. But I wasn’t shocked. I already knew exactly who was lying beside me.

Aelith.

Sleeping, angelic, her face smooth and delicate like some priceless porcelain doll. She looked younger like this, softer, more innocent than the sharp, court-trained creature she played when awake. But let’s be honest—“innocent elf girl” was relative. That “girl” had probably lived four times my lifespan, even counting the fact that I’ve basically had two lives crammed into one.

I glanced at her. That platinum-blonde mane of hers spilled over the sheets like molten silver, blending with the silk. She was bare too.

Wait. Bare?

No. Fucking. Way.

My stomach dropped. My brain screamed. Oh, no, no, no. I wanted to flirt with her, maybe tempt her, sure. But this? I hadn’t planned on this. And the worst part?

I couldn’t remember a damn thing.

Shit. SHIT. Aelith, gorgeous, radiant, ethereal, lying there like a goddamn dream—and I had no memory. I’d finally scored and my brain had blacked out the whole highlight reel. Figures.

Calm down, Rissa, I told myself, dragging a shaky hand down my face. Maybe it wasn’t a disaster. Maybe, just maybe, it was repeatable. If she liked me drunk and unhinged, surely she’d like me sober and only moderately unhinged, right?

Yeah. Right. Totally.

Still, I was going to have to ask her eventually. For now, best to salvage some dignity. I slid out of bed, legs wobbling like I’d been trampled by a herd of wyverns, and shuffled toward the mirror.

The reflection wasn’t kind. Hair everywhere. Dark circles. Skin pale from exhaustion. I looked less like a fearsome mage and more like a drunk who’d lost a fight with a wine cask. Typical.

I tugged on my white priestess outfit—yes, the same one everyone loved to whisper about. My holy, innocent disguise.

I smirked at the mirror. “Priestess slut,” I muttered to myself. The phrase made me chuckle, because, well… guilty as charged.

“Lady Rissa…”

Aelith’s voice floated through the haze, soft, drowsy. She rubbed at her eyes with a tiny fist, lids still half-closed, while the silk sheets slipped lazily off her shoulder.

“Uhhh…” The sound escaped me before I could stop it. Gods, what a sight. Golden sunlight, bare skin, platinum hair spilling everywhere. She looked like temptation wrapped in divinity. My lips curled into a grin. “Careful, darling. You put yourself in that pose again and I might just crawl back into bed with you, my beautiful Aelith.”

Every ounce of shame I’d carried from waking up naked was gone, burned away in an instant. Lust won every time.

“Please, Lady Rissa,” she murmured, cheeks tinged pink even as she stretched. “Do not say such things. People might misunderstand us. After all… I am still a virgin. Master Elyndor never touched me.”

I froze. “Wait. What? Then… I didn’t touch you either?”

Her smile was small, embarrassed. “Oh no, Lady Rissa. You were so drunk you could barely stand. The only thing you asked—before collapsing entirely—was for the warmth of a naked elf beside you. So it was done. I had the honor of accompanying you… though I admit it shamed me a little. So please… do not look at me with those eyes.”

I blinked. My brain stuttered like a broken gear.

I hadn’t touched her. Not once. I’d had the chance—the gods-damned perfect, gift-wrapped chance of a lifetime—and instead I’d chosen… cuddling.

Cuddling.

I buried my face in my hands, groaning loud enough to rattle the headboard. “Fuck me sideways… I am the dumbest, most pathetic excuse of a woman alive.” My voice cracked with despair.

There were actual tears in my eyes. “Never again. I swear it on every damned star—I am never drinking again.”

Because the gods had handed me Aelith, naked in my bed, and I’d wasted it.

I cursed myself. I cursed elven wine. I cursed my own stupidity with every foul word I knew, clawing at my hair as if I could tear out the shame.