The days in Verdura passed more quickly than Alexander expected. His wound was healing, though Ariella still refused to let him return to strenuous activity. She insisted that he rest, eat properly and allow his body time to recover. Alexander found himself looking for reasons to ignore the first two instructions and listening to the third only because Ariella was usually standing nearby when she gave it. He began spending more time outside the house.
At first, it was because the walls felt too confining after days of lying in bed. Then he started noticing that Ariella was often in the gardens, gathering herbs, checking the vegetables or simply sitting beneath one of the trees with a book in her lap.
One afternoon, he found her there. She was sorting a handful of leaves into separate baskets, occasionally lifting one to examine its colour and texture. Alexander stopped a few steps away. "You've been doing that for nearly an hour."
Ariella did not look up. "Have you been watching me for nearly an hour?"
"I have other things to do."
"Such as?"
Alexander glanced at the baskets. "Apparently, questioning you." That earned him a smile.
She placed another leaf into a basket. "Then ask."
Alexander stepped closer. "I know what you do. Everyone knows. You're skilled with herbs, food and alchemy."
"And?"
"And I don't know much about you."
Ariella finally looked up. "Is that a problem?"
"It might be."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because I find myself wanting to know."
For a moment, Ariella said nothing. Then she set the leaf aside. "What exactly do you want to know, Your Highness?"
Alexander sat on the low stone wall beside her. "Why cooking?"
Ariella looked toward the garden. "When I was younger, I thought cooking was simply about making something people wanted to eat."
"And now?"
"Now I think food can do more than that." She picked up a small sprig of herbs and rubbed it between her fingers. "It can comfort someone. Bring people together. Help someone recover. Sometimes people will tell you things over a meal that they would never say otherwise."
Alexander watched her. "You make it sound like food is medicine."
"Sometimes it is." She smiled. "Sometimes it's simply food."
He laughed. "You're difficult to understand."
"I could say the same about you."
"Why?"
"You are a prince who travelled across the kingdom to fight monsters, nearly got yourself killed, and now spends his time asking me questions about vegetables."
Alexander looked at the herb in her hand. "I suppose I've had stranger conversations."
Ariella laughed. The sound was light, unguarded.
Alexander found himself smiling. He had noticed something about her since arriving in Verdura. Ariella did not treat him differently because he was a prince. She respected his position, but she did not flatter him for it. If she thought he was being foolish, she told him. He found that refreshing.
"What made you want to learn all this?" he asked.
Ariella thought for a moment. "I was curious."
"That's all?"
"Curiosity can take a person surprisingly far." She placed the herb back into its basket. "I wanted to understand why some ingredients worked together while others didn't. Why certain foods helped people feel better. Why a meal shared with the right person could be remembered for years." She looked at him. "And then I discovered there was always something else to learn."
Alexander nodded slowly. He understood that feeling. "You're more ambitious than you appear."
"So are you."
The answer came so quickly that Alexander laughed. "You've been paying attention."
"Perhaps."
He leaned back against the stone wall. For the first time in a long while, he found himself enjoying a conversation without wondering where it might lead.
***
Their conversations became a habit. Sometimes they talked while Ariella worked in the kitchen. Other times Alexander followed her through the gardens while she gathered ingredients.He learned that she preferred growing many of her own herbs rather than buying them. She knew which flowers could reduce fever, which roots could settle an upset stomach and which fruits could be combined to strengthen a healing mixture.
But what interested him most was the way she approached her craft. She never treated an ingredient as merely an ingredient. She knew where it grew, when it should be harvested and what happened to its flavour and properties if it was prepared differently.
One evening, Alexander watched her prepare a dish over the stove. "What makes you so good at this?" he asked.
Ariella stirred the pot. "Practice."
"That's not enough."
She glanced at him. "Why not?"
"I've practised swordsmanship for years. I'm good at it. But there are things I still cannot do."
"Perhaps you're comparing the wrong things."
Alexander leaned against the counter. "How so?"
"Talent matters. Practice matters. But neither means much if you don't care about what you're doing." She tasted the sauce and frowned.
Alexander watched her reach for another ingredient. "You care that much?"
"I do."
"Why?"
She lowered the spoon. "Because when someone eats something I've made and feels better afterward, I know I've done something useful." She looked back at the pot. "That matters to me."
Alexander was quiet. There was no grand declaration in her words. She simply meant them.
"You really want to help people."
Ariella smiled faintly. "Is that so strange?"
"No."
He looked at her hands. "Just rare."
***
The more time Alexander spent with Ariella, the more difficult it became to ignore the strange familiarity between them. He had seen her before. Not here. Not in Verdura. In his dreams. The woman beside the cooking table. The same golden-brown hair. The same eyes. The same voice. The first time he had dreamed of her, he had remembered almost nothing after waking.
The second time, he had remembered even less. Now she was standing in front of him, real and breathing, stirring a pot as though she had never appeared anywhere else.
One evening, while they walked through the garden, Alexander finally spoke. "You appeared in my dreams."
Ariella stopped.
Alexander continued before he could reconsider. "Before I came here."
She looked at him carefully. "What kind of dream?"
"One I didn't understand." He told her about the strange celestial place. About the two women. About the questions he had asked.
Ariella listened without interrupting.
"And you were there," he said. "You were cooking."
Her expression softened with curiosity. "Did I look like this?"
"Almost exactly."
"Almost?"
"You had flour on your face."
Ariella touched her cheek instinctively. Alexander smiled.
"I don't remember that."
"I do."
She looked away, but he noticed the smile she was trying to hide.
"Perhaps it was only a dream."
"Perhaps."
Alexander's gaze remained on her. "But I don't think so."
Ariella was quiet. The breeze moved through the trees above them. Finally, she said, "Neither do I."
Alexander looked at her. "Why?"
"Because you knew my name before I told you."
He had no answer for that. Neither did she. For a while, they continued walking. They did not discuss destiny. They did not try to explain the dreams. But after that evening, something between them changed.
Ariella began seeking Alexander's company as often as he sought hers. She would bring him food she wanted him to taste. He would sit in the garden while she worked. Sometimes they talked for hours. Sometimes they said very little. It was the quiet moments that surprised Alexander most.
He had spent much of his life surrounded by people. Servants. Ministers. Soldiers. Women who wanted his attention. Men who wanted his favour. Yet sitting beside Ariella without needing to fill every silence felt strangely easy.
One evening, they sat beneath a tree overlooking the gardens. The sun had already disappeared beyond the hills. Ariella rested her hands in her lap. "Your wound is nearly healed."
"I know."
"You can return to Eldoria soon."
Alexander looked at her. "Do you want me to?"
She hesitated. "I didn't say that."
"But you thought about it."
Ariella smiled faintly. "You are very difficult."
"So I've been told."
She looked toward the darkening garden. "Your kingdom needs you."
"I know."
"And you have responsibilities."
"I know that too." He shifted closer. "But I don't want to leave yet."
Ariella turned toward him. "Why?"
Alexander could have given her several reasons. He could have said that Verdura was peaceful. That his injury required more time. That the roads were unsafe. Instead, he told the truth. "Because I want to be here with you."
Ariella's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her dress. "Alexander..." It was the first time she had said his name without the title.
He noticed. So did she.
"I don't know what is happening to me," she admitted quietly.
Alexander smiled. "Neither do I."
She looked at him. "But I know I look for you when you're not around."
He reached for her hand. She let him take it. His thumb brushed across her fingers."I do the same."
For a moment, neither moved. Then Ariella leaned toward him. Their kiss was gentle and brief. When they pulled apart, she smiled. Alexander had kissed women before. Many times. This felt nothing like those encounters. There was no thrill of conquest, no expectation of what came next. Only the quiet certainty that he wanted to remain where he was.
***
After that, their relationship changed without either of them needing to name it. Alexander spent his mornings recovering and his afternoons with Ariella whenever his duties allowed. She taught him which herbs were safe to eat and which could leave a person unconscious for hours. He taught her how to hold a sword properly.
"You'll cut yourself like that," he said, adjusting her grip.
"I've held knives since I was a child."
"A sword isn't a kitchen knife."
"That much I've gathered." She tried again.
Alexander moved behind her and corrected the angle of her wrist. "Like this."
Ariella glanced over her shoulder. "You're very close."
"So I am."
She smiled. Neither moved away. Their affection grew in small moments rather than grand promises. A shared meal. A hand brushing another. A quiet conversation before bed.
Laughter when Liam attempted to help Ariella cook and nearly ruined an entire batch of pastries. Gabriel noticed the change before anyone else.
One evening, he found Alexander returning from the garden.
"You seem happier," he remarked.
Alexander glanced at him.
"Do I?"
"You do."
Alexander looked toward the garden. Ariella was still there, gathering flowers beneath the fading light.
"I think I found what I was looking for."
Gabriel followed his gaze. "Then don't take it for granted."
Alexander nodded. For once, he had no clever answer. He simply stood there, watching Ariella disappear among the trees. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the strange dream remained.
Two women. A place that did not belong to any kingdom. A meeting he could not explain. He had no idea what it meant. For now, he was content to let the question remain unanswered.