The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a crimson hue over the training grounds of Aeloria. The day's drills had ended, but tension still hung thick in the air like smoke after a battlefield clash. Whispers of another border skirmish with the southern provinces had begun circulating through the camp, and with them came a renewed urgency in every sword swing and sparring session.
Kaela stood at the edge of the grounds, her long braid damp with sweat and her muscles aching pleasantly from the day's exertion. She had spent the afternoon leading the newest recruits through formations, only to be summoned unexpectedly to Captain Kael's tent after sunset.
She knocked once before stepping inside. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"
Kael looked up from a stack of maps on his table. The candlelight bathed his chiseled features in warm gold, making him look less like the hardened warrior he was and more like a weary prince from some far-off legend. For a brief second, Kaela's heart stuttered—a betrayal of the calm she wore like armor.
"Yes," he said, motioning for her to sit. "I need your thoughts on something… unofficial."
She raised an eyebrow but took the offered seat. "Unofficial?"
He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not just a warrior, Kaela. You've fought in a way few others here have. You've seen things. Felt things. I need to know if you think the southern lords are trying to bait us into something bigger."
Kaela studied him for a moment. His shoulders were tense, his usual composed demeanor shadowed by something deeper—worry, perhaps. She leaned forward. "Yes," she said softly. "They're testing our defenses. Seeing how quickly we respond. This isn't about winning battles—it's about measuring our weakness."
Kael nodded slowly. "I feared as much."
For a while, silence settled between them. Not the awkward kind, but one born of mutual understanding, like two old souls finally letting their burdens rest for a moment.
"I miss it sometimes," Kael said unexpectedly. "The simplicity of training. Of being a soldier without all the politics."
Kaela chuckled. "I miss riding into battle without worrying about paperwork afterward."
That drew a rare smile from him, genuine and warm. "You were always different, you know. Even before you were promoted, even before I knew who you were."
She tilted her head. "Different how?"
"You carry pain like a blade at your side. It doesn't weigh you down—it shapes you." He paused. "I admire that."
Her breath caught. Compliments rarely touched her skin like this, slipping under the surface and lingering there. "You hide your pain better than I do," she replied quietly. "But I see it too."
Their eyes met—green and stormy blue. The space between them felt charged, like a drawn bowstring held just before release. Kaela's voice lowered. "Why are you really telling me this, Kael?"
He looked away, then back, this time with unguarded vulnerability. "Because... I need someone who understands. And because sometimes, when I see you walking across the camp, I forget where I am. I forget everything but you."
She was silent. Not because she didn't feel the same, but because the words were too large, too real, too fragile. But then she reached across the table, her fingers brushing his.
"You're not alone in that."
The moment lingered—sweet, uncertain, and heavy with promise.
Outside, the first stars pierced the velvet sky. Inside the tent, something softer than war and fiercer than steel began to bloom.
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The Next Morning
Kaela woke with the morning sun pouring through her tent flap. She hadn't stayed in Kael's quarters, but the touch of last night clung to her thoughts like dew on grass. Their fingers had lingered longer than expected, their words danced closer to truths neither had dared speak before.
And yet, no lines had been crossed. Not yet.
But something had changed.
She dressed and stepped into the morning light, ready to return to duty, but her thoughts drifted to Kael—and what came next.
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