Dimitri turned to leave, his cloak catching a breath of wind as he stepped toward the path.
"Wait," Riella called softly.
He stopped.
She hesitated, then took a few steps toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Those boys… Noel and Nathaniel he answered. They're yours, aren't they?"
His shoulders tensed slightly, but he nodded without turning. "They are."
"I figured," she continued, gently. "They're smart. Kind. A little mischievous."
He finally turned back, the moonlight casting shadows over the sharp lines of his face. "Too curious for their own good," he muttered, but there was a faint smile in his voice.
"They asked me if I was a fairy," Riella said with a small laugh. "Said I reminded them of a lady in a painting."
Dimitri's smile faded, replaced by something more distant. "They meant their mother." He lied.
Riella watched him carefully, noting how his jaw clenched, how his hands folded behind his back.
"You don't like talking about her?." A question that felt more of a statement.
"No," he replied. "Because words… tend to bleed when spoken too often."
A silence stretched between them.
"She must've been extraordinary," Riella said softly.
"She was," he replied after a long pause. "But she's gone. And the boys… they don't remember her."
She nodded, uncertain how far she could press.
"They love you," she said instead. "That's clear."
He didn't respond. Just watched her. A gaze that was unreadable—too guarded, too full.
Riella took a step back, unsure why her breath caught—and her heel slipped slightly on the dew-slick grass.
She gasped—but he was already there, catching her by the waist before she could fall. His hands were firm, warm through the thin fabric of her robe, holding her steady. Too steady.
They were close now. Far too close.
Her hands rested on his chest, instinctively. His eyes burned into hers—searching, unreadable, but so intensely focused that she could feel her heart stutter.
"Careful," he murmured.
She wasn't sure if he meant the grass… or something else entirely.
For a moment, he didn't let go.
Then, as though remembering himself, he pulled away and straightened.
"Goodnight, Riella," he said, voice thick with restraint.
And before she could reply, he turned and walked into the darkness—leaving behind the lingering warmth of his hands on her waist… and a thousand questions she didn't yet know how to ask.
---
The next day.
The morning sun filtered in through the silk curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the guest room floor. Riella sat on the edge of the bed, still in her nightdress, her hair unbrushed and spilling down her shoulders like ink. She hadn't slept much.
Amelia stretched from her side of the room, blinking groggily before sitting up. Her sharp gaze caught the faraway look on Riella's face instantly.
"What happened?" she asked, voice still husky with sleep.
Riella blinked, as if pulled from a trance. "Hmm?"
"You're glowing weirdly," Amelia muttered. "Don't say 'nothing'—I've known you since we were crawling through strawberry fields. Spill."
Riella let out a breath, half-laugh, half-exhale of nerves. "I went out last night."
Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Alone?"
Riella nodded slowly. "I couldn't sleep. The garden looked peaceful."
"And you ran into someone." Amelia stood, crossing her arms. "Let me guess—Kael?"
"No." Riella bit her lip. "Dimitri."
That name alone made Amelia pause. "Oh?"
"I met the twins first," Riella added quickly. "They were… sweet. They said I looked like a lady in a portrait in his study."
"That's not surprising," Amelia said carefully. "You have that haunting look. Like you stepped out of a forgotten story."
Riella smiled faintly. "They said my eyes change colors."
"They do," Amelia agreed softly. "What else?"
Riella hesitated.
"He caught me before I fell," she admitted. "He was... close."
Amelia's brows rose. "Close how?"
Riella looked down at her hands. "His arms around my waist kind of close."
There was a beat of silence.
Then: "Did he say anything?" Amelia asked, voice suddenly quiet.
"Nothing like that," Riella replied quickly. "Just… warned me to be careful."
Amelia moved beside her, sitting. "Do you feel anything for him?"
Riella didn't answer right away. "I don't know. He confuses me. There's something sad in him… but also strong. And I think he sees more than he says."
Amelia studied her. "You have a soft spot for broken things."
"I think I am one," Riella whispered.
Amelia took her hand. "Then let's not fall for someone who carries his own ruins."
There was no malice in her voice—only worry. Only love.
Riella smiled faintly. "Too late. I already want to know what he's hiding."