The first morning back in Dravenhart didn't feel real.
It was too bright. Too peaceful. Too alive.
Zelene sat upright in her bed, her hand resting on the faint pattern of light streaming through the curtains. The fabric of her sheets smelled faintly of lilies — someone must have replaced them. For a place that once echoed with cold, muted silence, Dravenhart now felt… warm.
Outside, faint laughter drifted up from the courtyard. Someone was playing a lute.
When she finally left her room, the hallways — the ones she remembered as silent, stone-gray stretches of corridor — now glowed with soft banners and fresh candles. Even the staff bowed deeply when she passed, their eyes kind and grateful.
"Lady Zelene," one of the maids greeted, voice trembling with genuine warmth. "Welcome home."
Zelene blinked. "Home?"
Before she could question it further, Kael appeared at the far end of the hall. No cape, no armor, no grim aura that used to follow him like shadow — just him, in a dark shirt with rolled sleeves, his hair still damp from a bath, and a smile so small she almost missed it.
"You're awake," he said. His tone was quiet, steady — but there was something different in it. Softer. "I was just about to send Ray to check on you."
Her brows knit faintly. "You? Checking on someone?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Is it so strange for me to worry?"
"Yes," she answered flatly. Then paused. "Actually, terrifying."
Kael laughed — really laughed — and the sound startled her more than any thunder ever could.
---
Breakfast was worse.
Zelene tried to focus on the bread and tea, but Kael was… everywhere.
He poured her cup before she could reach for it.
He brushed crumbs from her sleeve without a word.
He even pushed the sugar bowl closer, murmuring, "You always forget to sweeten it."
Her fork paused midair. "You noticed that?"
Kael's eyes flickered, unreadable for a moment. "I notice more than you think."
She didn't know what to do with that.
The air felt too still, her heartbeat too loud.
Across the table, Ray sat with his usual stoic silence, watching the exchange with mild amusement — though he said nothing, as always. Darius was talking to one of the staff about supply reports, entirely oblivious to the quiet tension between their lord and the woman across from him.
When breakfast ended, Kael rose and offered his hand — offered his hand — to help her up. Zelene just stared at it.
"What are you doing?"
He smiled faintly. "Trying to be polite."
"You've never been polite before."
He leaned a little closer. "Then maybe I'm changing."
Her pulse skipped. For a moment, the world shrank to just that — his voice, low and rough; the faint scent of morning steel and cedar; the ghost of warmth near her skin.
She looked away quickly. "Don't," she said, standing on her own. "You'll make the staff faint if you keep acting human."
---
By noon, Zelene found herself walking through Dravenhart's gardens.
The air was crisp, full of birdsong. She used to hate this place — how empty it felt. But now, there were people tending to flowers, laughter echoing through the courtyard. Even the roses looked brighter.
Kael joined her quietly, keeping pace beside her. For once, his steps matched hers — unhurried, easy.
"You've changed," she said finally, breaking the silence.
He glanced at her. "For better or worse?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Kael chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. "You'll figure it out eventually."
They walked past a fountain — one she had shattered during her arrival months ago. It had been repaired. Not just repaired, but reborn; pale marble lilies bloomed along its edges, and the water shimmered faintly with what looked like Aether residue.
"Dravenhart feels…" Zelene trailed off. "Different."
"It should," Kael said. "The curse is gone. The land breathes again."
She turned to look at him — the sunlight catching the edge of his hair, his expression steady but gentler than she'd ever seen. "And you? Are you breathing again too?"
His gaze lingered on her for a long, silent moment. Then, softly —
"I think I am."
The words settled between them, fragile as glass.
For the first time, Zelene didn't look away.
---
Later, when she returned to her chambers, she found a single lily placed on her desk — white, fresh, its petals glimmering faintly with dew.
No note. No signature.
But she didn't need one.
She knew.
And for reasons she couldn't explain, her heart refused to calm.