"Come, Anna," Kyren said, extending his hand to her.
She placed her delicate fingers into his calloused palm without hesitation.
As they stepped out of the tent, she glanced up at him.
"Where are we going?"
"For a walk," he replied. "Outside the campsite."
"Outside?" Her brows lifted. "Into the forest?"
"There's a marigold field not far from here. Just beyond the perimeter."
A quiet warmth entered his voice when he mentioned it, and a faint smile curved his lips.
"We'll take a stroll. Will that be all right?"
Anna's face brightened instantly. "That would be lovely."
Hand in hand, they walked toward the entrance of the camp — like lovers setting out on a quiet courtship.
As they passed, the knights straightened and bowed respectfully. Some could not help but glance twice at the sight of their commander walking openly with his wife, fingers entwined.
Low whispers followed them.
It was no longer a secret that their commander cherished his lady dearly.
Anna pretended not to notice the murmurs, though warmth crept into her cheeks. Being beside him like this, openly, was enough to set her heart fluttering.
***
When they reached the clearing, Anna stopped.
Before them stretched a sea of marigolds — golden and radiant beneath the summer sun.
The flowers swayed in waves as the wind moved through them, bees lazily hovering from bloom to bloom.
Beyond the field rose the deep green of Dartrey Forest, dense and solemn.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
A sudden weight settled over her shoulders. She turned her head and found that Kyren had draped his cloak around her.
"It's windy," he said, fastening it at her collar. "I don't want you catching a cold."
She smiled up at him. "Thank you."
For a moment, he only looked at her.
The wind lifted her loose auburn hair, sunlight catching the strands. Her smile, framed by gold and green, struck him unexpectedly.
"You have a beautiful smile," he said.
Anna blinked, then looked away, flustered at receiving praise from him for the first time.
"Your hair suits you like this," he added. "Leave it down when you're with me."
"…All right," she replied softly.
A stronger gust of wind pushed against her, and he instinctively drew an arm around her shoulders to steady her.
"We can come here whenever I'm free," he said.
"When will the next one be?" she asked, tucking stray strands behind her ear.
"I don't have fixed duties like my men. Aid requests, border incidents, reinforcements — they decide my schedule."
"So you might leave at any time."
"Yes."
She nodded slowly, and they continued walking through the field.
"I heard about the campaign," she said after a while. "Will it ever truly end?"
"It will," Kyren replied. "When the slave market in Tarnova closes for good."
Anna's expression darkened slightly.
"That would mean slavery ends in Dracor. It sounds… unlikely."
His gaze shifted to her.
"You assessed that quickly."
"There must be numerous related crime cases happening for His Majesty the King of Cassian to initiate the campaign," she assumed.
"How do you relate?" asked Kyren, testing his wife's wisdom.
"Slave trade feeds on suffering," she said. "Mistreated slaves grow weak, die, or become useless. Traders replace them constantly, and settlements near the border would be easy targets."
Kyren's lips curved faintly. Once again, she surprised him.
"You never fail to impress me, Anna."
A flicker of pride warmed her chest at his words.
"Thank you."
He fell quiet for a moment before speaking again.
"There's still much I don't know about you."
Her steps slowed.
"Since we married, we've never truly introduced ourselves. I believe, now would be the right time."
The air shifted, and Anna's heart began to beat unevenly.
Should she tell him? And if she did…
Would he look at her differently?
Would he see her as a burden?
Or…
Would he regret choosing her?
Fear settled quietly in her chest. She was happy now, and she did not want that to change. Not even a little.
Her past was not a road she wished to walk again, nor one she desired to recall.
And telling the truth? No. That might not end well for her.
"Nothing is interesting about me," she replied at last, reluctant and guarded.
"You could at least tell me who my wife is," he said calmly. "Don't I deserve that?"
She inhaled slowly.
"What do you wish to know?"
"Your maiden name."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. It was such a simple question that most people could answer without a second thought… but not her.
Still, she owed him something. Not the whole truth, but perhaps an answer that was not entirely false.
"Anna Varryn."
"Varryn?" he repeated. "Your family name is Varryn?"
"Yes."
She kept her gaze lowered.
Kyren smiled faintly. He knew that name. Varryn—the alias used by Ardel's previous king before ascending the throne.
It was not knowledge required of him during his princely education, yet he had sought it out of curiosity and habitually thorough study.
"It's a fine name," he said smoothly. "It sounds regal."
He paused deliberately. "And you are as lovely as a princess."
She stopped walking and turned to him.
"What did you call me?"
"A princess." His tone remained even. "Why?"
"Please don't call me that," she said quickly. "I'm not one."
The title felt like a burden—an unforgiving reminder of everything she had failed to protect. And she did not dare admit that she was… the Princess of Ardel.
"Oh?" he said lightly. "Then you're a commoner?"
"Does it matter?"
Her voice held a tremor she tried to hide.
"No."
She swallowed.
"My family passed away two years ago in an accident. My father… my stepmother… my younger brother. All were gone. So… I don't usually talk about them."
Kyren's expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
"It's in the past."
He retook her hand as they resumed walking.
"You lived alone after that?"
"No… I had… friends."
"No relatives?"
"Some appeared," she said. "Claiming to be kin. But I never knew them."
"Opportunists," he muttered.
She gave a faint nod.
Anna remembered the faces that came calling after the tragedy—men and women who suddenly claimed ties to the royal bloodline.
In truth, they were nothing more than distant relatives with no rightful claim to the throne. Yet they gathered around her like bees to honey, eager to profit from the downfall.
"Sounds like they meant to use you," Kyren said quietly.
"It was obvious. They had never shown themselves before."
"How old were you when all that happened?" he asked.
"Seventeen."
"And now nineteen," he calculated. "That makes quite a difference between us. I'm twenty-six."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
Anna glanced at him.
"No wonder you seem so mature. Still, becoming a Knight Commander at your age is rare. In Ardel, the commander of the knighthood I knew was far older than you."
"How did you know him?" Kyren asked, turning slightly.
"I don't. My friend was a knightess," she replied. "So I learned a little."
He nodded. "You're right. It's young for the position. But I earned it. I've trained since childhood."
She looked at him curiously. "What else about you? I realise I know very little about you, too."
"There isn't much to tell," he answered. "I've served His Majesty for three years and the former king before that. Most of my life has been spent on battlefields, border skirmishes, quelling riots and so on. When I'm not dispatched, I train my men."
They drifted towards a broad tree at the edge of the field, its shade a welcome shelter from the sun.
"And your family?" Anna asked.
"My parents have both passed," he said. "I have one sibling, my younger brother. He lives in Gantz, the capital. He's married, with two daughters."
"You're fortunate," she murmured. "At least you still have a brother and his family as relatives."
A trace of sadness crept into her voice.
She thought of her own brother—Ryan Adhemar, the young Crown Prince of Ardel with warm brown eyes and teasing laughter… the only one who had ever shielded her from loneliness.
"You had only one sibling?" Kyren asked.
She nodded. "Yes. A half-brother. We had different mothers."
"And your mother?"
"She died giving birth to me."
Kyren's gaze shifted forward. "My father passed three years ago. My mother followed not long after. Grief consumed her."
Silence lingered between them, filled with unspoken memories—the quiet, aching burden of loneliness neither needed to name.
"It hurts to lose someone you love. No one wishes to be left alone," she said, breaking the stillness.
The latter words struck something deep within him.
He knew that emptiness—knew what it meant to stand at the height of power and still feel alone. For years, that quiet void had lived in his chest.
Yet now, as he felt the slight warmth of her hand within his, the hollow space no longer seemed quite so vast.
Without thinking, his fingers tightened around hers. And this time, he did not loosen his hold.