Kael had been restless for days.
He hid it well—helped with hunting, carried water, even laughed when the children braided wildflowers into his hair. But Charlisa could feel it. The way his fingers tapped when he thought no one noticed. The way he gazed toward the far cliffs each evening, where mist clung like breath to stone.
That evening, when the sky was streaked with rose and ash, Charlisa found him sharpening his blade under the ancient twin-pine.
"You've been avoiding me," she said gently.
Kael looked up. "I would never."
"But you've been hiding something."
He sighed, the motion heavy in his broad chest. His jaw tightened as if he was deciding whether to lie or run. Instead, he sheathed the blade.
"There's something I should've told you earlier," he admitted. "But I was… ashamed."
Charlisa sat beside him, waiting.
"My mother wasn't born here," Kael said. "She was an outsider—like you. But not from your world. She came from one of the cities—Mycalon, they called it then. She was a healer, captured by a raiding tribe during the frost season. My father—he took her in. Protected her. Loved her."
He paused. "But the village never accepted her. They said she cursed the fields with her foreign ways. When sickness came, they blamed her. She left one night… and never returned. I was only seven."
Charlisa's breath caught. "Kael…"
"I searched for her. Every chance I got, I tried to track her scent in the mountains. But nothing. It's why I know the wild places so well—why I built the lavender grove. She loved the scent. Said it reminded her of her homeland."
He reached into the pouch tied at his hip and pulled out a strip of old cloth, embroidered with faded green spirals. "The last thing she left me."
Charlisa touched it reverently, heart aching for the boy he once was.
"That's why you watch me when I speak with the elders, isn't it?" she whispered. "You're waiting to see if they'll turn on me too."
Kael nodded silently.
Charlisa leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I'm not her, Kael. But I won't run either."
He held her tighter than he ever had, as if by doing so he could rewrite the past, could replace that memory of absence with one of fierce presence.
That night, as they lay beneath the stars, there was no need for words. His breath was steady beside her, no longer taut with secrets. And Charlisa, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heart, knew one truth for certain—
Love wasn't just choosing each other. It was choosing to stay.