I heard shouts from the courtyard at an hour when the castle should have been sleeping.
Without thinking, I grabbed my shawl and ran downstairs.
The sight that greeted me stopped my breath.
Kaian stood in the center of a circle of knights—all of them in full armor with weapons drawn. But worse was the blood. Fresh blood matted his hair, bandages wrapped around his head, blood stains trailing down his neck.
"Kaian!" I ran to him without caring who was watching, clinging to his armor-clad chest.
"Claudel. Why are you awake at this hour?" His voice was calm, as though he hadn't just arrived looking like a casualty of war.
"You said you were inspecting the territory," I choked out. "What happened? Why are you bleeding?"
"It's nothing serious—"
"Don't lie to me."
Hannah appeared behind me, breathless. "Lady, you shouldn't be out here in the cold. Let's go back inside."
I ignored her completely, my eyes fixed on the swelling around Kaian's left eye, the gash above his eyebrow.
Kaian, still unable to embrace me tightly in his armor, tried to calm me. "I'll explain everything once I've cleaned up. Hannah, take my wife inside. I need to see the doctor."
Knights averted their eyes as I was essentially dragged away by Hannah, though not before I caught the way Kaian's eyes softened watching me leave.
---
## Back in My Room
"Cough. Cough."
The night wind had chilled me through. Hannah brought warm milk, examining my forehead for fever.
"You're not alone, Lady. You need to be careful," she said gently.
But I barely heard her. My mind was spiraling. "You knew. You knew he was going somewhere dangerous and didn't tell me."
"The Lord ordered me not to say anything—"
"You're my maid. You're my friend." The words came out sharper than I intended.
Hannah flinched, biting her lower lip. "Your body is cold. Please eat something warm."
I drank the milk mechanically, but it did nothing to ease my anxiety.
When Kaian finally appeared in the doorway—cleaned up, changed, fresh bandages visible beneath his damp hair—I couldn't hold back anymore.
"Kaian!"
He dismissed Hannah with quiet authority, then took the full force of my panic as I began striking his chest with both fists.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, catching my wrists. "Your hands will hurt."
"You lied to me! You said you were inspecting the estate—"
"I did inspect villages on the way. I wasn't lying. I was handling urgent business."
"What urgent business requires armor and blood?"
"Herding water buffalo," he said flatly. "The doctor recommended it for your leg pain recovery. A startled animal jumped toward my knights. I rode ahead to reorganize the ranks, but a stone from a horse in front threw me."
I stared at him. "You should have lowered your helmet."
"It would have blocked my view."
The sheer absurdity of his risk-taking infuriated me. When I thought about how easily I could have lost him—how that stone could have struck differently, could have killed him—my anger crystallized into something else entirely.
*Why am I this angry? Because I love him.*
The realization clarified everything. All the paranoia about Madame Marcel, all the doubts and fears—they meant nothing compared to this fundamental truth.
I loved Kaian. Completely. Desperately.
"The doctor recommended buffalo herding?" I managed. "How dare he give orders to the Duke of Temnes?"
Kaian laughed at my indignation. "Is that what you're angry about?"
"Why didn't you say goodbye properly? Why did you just leave without letting me see you off? I was so anxious—" My voice cracked with the magnitude of my fear.
"I didn't want to wake you. Your insomnia has finally improved."
"That's no excuse! If something had happened—"
"But it didn't."
"The scar," I said desperately. "It might leave a scar."
"It won't be visible under my hair," he replied with infuriating calm. "And if it does scar, I'll wear it proudly."
I tried to stay angry, but the exhaustion of fear was overwhelming. Instead of arguing, I did the only thing that felt right.
I bit his lip.
Hard enough that he made a small sound of surprise, soft enough that it was more affection than aggression.
When I pulled back, his expression shifted—something warm and amused flickering across his face.
"What was that for?"
"For being reckless. For not saying goodbye. For making me worry."
"I'll try to be more considerate next time I get injured," he said dryly, pulling me close and settling us onto the bed.
As I leaned against him, my racing heart finally began to calm. He was here. He was alive. And I loved him with an intensity that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.
---