The wind had barely settled from the carriage's departure when Seraphine looped her arm through Riella's and steered her gently down a flower-strewn path. "Come, before the afternoon sun decides to burn our skin off. I had tea arranged in the southern garden."
Riella blinked. "You did?"
"Of course," Seraphine replied smoothly, the corner of her lips lifting. "I couldn't let my guest flee without a proper farewell."
"You mean Amelia fled," Riella said, amused.
Seraphine hummed. "And you stayed."
The garden was alive with soft rustling leaves and the gentle trickle of a stone fountain. A small table had been set with a silver teapot, delicate cups, and slices of berry tart that glistened under the dappled sunlight. Riella sat across from Seraphine, still a little unsure.
"I thought you were the quiet, sword-sharp type," Riella said, lifting her cup.
"Oh, I am," Seraphine replied without missing a beat, "but I still enjoy dresses, absurd stories about princes, and scandalous romance novels with too much poetry and far too few sensible women."
Riella choked on her tea. "You read romance novels?"
Seraphine laughed, her voice light and free. "Don't look so betrayed. Women like me are allowed hearts too, even if we don't go around parading them."
"I just… didn't expect you to bring up men with me, is all," Riella admitted, cheeks growing warm.
Seraphine arched a brow. "Are you blushing?"
"No."
"Oh, you absolutely are." She leaned in. "Let me guess. Never had a proper kiss? Or just one that haunts you at night?"
Riella nearly dropped her spoon. "You're impossible!"
"I'm bored," Seraphine said with a grin. "And you're a mystery wrapped in fire. I had to know if you could blush. Now I can die satisfied."
Riella shook her head, laughing despite herself. The conversation turned to books after that—Seraphine reciting dramatic lines from a ridiculous courtship tale involving a pirate, a widow, and a horse named Thunder. Riella laughed until she leaned against the table for support.
And for a little while, the garden became a place untouched by heavy names or silent questions.
There was no Calistar, no bloodlines, no empires.
Just two women, unlikely companions, drinking tea in the sun.
Later that evening, after the sun dipped behind the hills and the manor lights flickered on like distant stars, Riella stepped out onto the stone balcony of her temporary quarters. The southern wing was silent now, save for the occasional rustle of curtains in the wind.
The evening air wrapped around her like a gentle shawl—cool, scented with garden roses and memory.
She didn't expect to find someone else there. But she did.
Dimitri stood by the railing, half in shadow, arms folded as he stared into the horizon like he was still searching for something long lost.
She froze.
"I didn't mean to intrude," she said softly.
"You're not."
The quiet between them stretched, interrupted only by the hush of the wind through ivy.
"You stayed," he said after a moment, eyes still ahead.
"Seraphine insisted."
He nodded slowly. "She does that. Rarely takes no for an answer."
Riella took a hesitant step closer. "Were you looking for something out here?"
"No," Dimitri answered. "I just… don't like closed spaces at night."
A beat passed.
"And yet," he added, turning slightly toward her, "you keep walking into them."
She smiled faintly, her arms hugging her frame. "Maybe I'm learning to."
There was something heavy in his gaze then, like he wanted to say more—maybe even reach for her—but didn't.
"I should go in—"
Her heel caught on the uneven edge of the stone tile as she turned, and she stumbled.
Strong hands caught her before she could fall. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other bracing her shoulder.
For a moment, time held its breath.
Riella's face was inches from his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into her. Dimitri didn't let go—not immediately. His hand lingered at her waist, firm, protective... reluctant to release.
When she looked up, his eyes were already on her.
Not just looking.
Searching.
Wanting.
But then his jaw tensed, and the spell broke.
"You should be more careful," he said, stepping back.
Her breath caught, the night suddenly cooler without his warmth.
"I'm usually better on my feet," she murmured.
He offered a short nod, distant again. "Good night, Riella."
And without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away—leaving her with a heart that now beat far too fast.
Elsewhere in the manor…
Kael stood by the long window of the war room, arms folded, his gaze following Dimitri's distant form retreating across the courtyard below. He'd seen him leave the balcony just moments ago—alone, but not the same.
He didn't need to ask who had been there with him.
"She's still here, isn't she?" Seraphine's voice pulled him from his thoughts as she entered the room, the soft rustle of her silks brushing the floor.
Kael nodded once, eyes still fixed ahead. "Yes. You arranged that, didn't you?"
Seraphine smiled, unbothered. "I simply offered a suggestion. She accepted. Chloe didn't protest."
"And Dimitri?" Kael asked, turning to face her fully.
"That, Kael," Seraphine said as she moved to pour herself wine, "is the more complicated part."
Kael studied her, his brow furrowed. "You knew something would shift the moment she stayed."
Seraphine met his eyes over the rim of her cup. "I suspected. But shift doesn't always mean ruin."
"You're playing with fire."
"No," she said, her tone turning oddly quiet. "I'm watching a man who has burned long enough start to feel the warmth of something else."
Kael fell silent.
He'd seen that look in Dimitri's eyes before—once, long ago. And it had ended with a grave and two grieving sons.
He didn't speak it aloud, but the tension in his jaw said everything.
Seraphine sipped her wine, eyes glinting.
"She isn't here to replace anyone, Kael. But maybe... she's here to remind him that he's still alive."
Kael didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to the window, watching the night deepen over the estate. A storm was building—quietly, steadily.
And they were all standing too close.