The forest was quieter now, but the path home still wound long and shadowed. Vincenzo noticed the strain in Anneliese's face as she winced with every other step. The walk had clearly taken a toll—and whatever pride she had was now competing with the pain. He slowed beside her, his voice breaking the silence.
"Allow me to carry you."
She hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Vincenzo saw it—but this time, he couldn't fall back on logic or distance. He softened his tone. "We don't want your wounds to bleed again, do we?"
It wasn't an order. It was a quiet offering—no longer about control, but care.
Anneliese gave a reluctant nod. "Okay…"
He lifted her easily, and neither of them spoke for the rest of the walk.
By the time they reached the Castle gates, the torches along the walls flickered to life. Inside the stone corridors, the quiet stretched between them—comfortable, but tense in ways unspoken.
