The scent of polished wood, candle wax, and faint lavender filled Riella's nose as soon as she stepped inside.
She was too numb to register the full beauty of the home, but it was impossible to miss — velvet drapes, marble floors that glistened under golden chandeliers, and long hallways that felt more like a palace than a home. Everything here was too soft, too perfect.
The man who brought her — who smiled like the general but didn't carry the weight of silence — handed his umbrella to a stunned maid.
"She's soaked. Get her changed. Then bring her to the east sitting room. We'll have tea," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
The maids didn't dare question him aloud, but Riella caught the glances. The wide eyes. Why would the master bring someone in? And at this hour? In the rain?
They led her away.
Riella stood stiffly as the maids worked. They were kind, but careful — like people unsure whether she was important or dangerous. They gave her a soft pale blue gown , warm slippers, and a long robe the color of moonlight.
---
By the time she returned, her hair was brushed and half-dried, her skin clean, and she wore a soft pale-blue gown that fell to her ankles. Her feet slid gently across the warm rug as she stepped into the sitting room.
He was already waiting.
A fire crackled nearby, and the tea was ready — cups and cookies arranged with an absurd level of care. He sat casually on a wide, green armchair, legs stretched out, tea in hand, watching her as she approached.
"You clean up well," he said, flashing her a grin.
Riella didn't answer. She didn't sit either — not immediately. Her eyes darted around the room, noting exits, spacing, where the maids stood.
"You don't trust me yet," he said matter-of-factly.
She narrowed her eyes. "Should I?"
He shrugged. "Probably not. But I'm not your enemy, either."
After a tense silence, Riella sat — carefully — and reached for the tea. The warmth soaked through her fingertips.
"I'm Kael," he said.
She blinked. "You look like…"
"My brother?" he finished, his grin softening. "Dimitri. I get that a lot."
"You're twins," she murmured.
"We are. Though I like to think I'm easier to talk to."
She didn't answer. Not yet. Her guard was still too high, her heart still too sore.
Kael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What happened to you — and that town — it wasn't random."
Riella's eyes flicked up.
"There are soldiers working under someone else now. A man named Leonardo," Kael continued. "He's gathering power, breaking old loyalties. Some of the uniforms look the same, but they don't answer to the empire anymore."
Leonardo.
The name echoed in her mind.
She had heard it before.
But where? Chloe? The night her mother died?
Her hands tightened slightly on the cup. She didn't speak the name. Didn't ask.
Kael watched her face for a moment, then seemed to change the subject. "You weren't alone, were you? That night?"
She inhaled quietly, slowly. She couldn't speak of her mother to this man . It was a painful memory. So she said something else "My best friend… I lost her. We were together "a lie" before the—before it all happened."
"Describe her." He said still watching her every move .
Riella did. "Small face. Peachy lips. Blue eyes — not dark blue like mine. Pretty. Like… soft pretty. Gentle-looking. She's all I have left."
Kael's brows drew together thoughtfully. "Someone like that might've come through one of our checkpoints a few days ago. I'll ask around. If she's here, I'll find her."
Riella didn't say thank you. But something behind her eyes — something raw and aching — softened just a little.
Kael stood and handed his cup to a maid. "You'll sleep here tonight. No one will disturb you."
She rose too, slower. Her limbs still trembled faintly, not from cold — from exhaustion.
The maid led her down the hall to a room far too fine for someone like her. Yet tonight, she didn't fight it. She didn't cry.
She just sat on the bed and whispered the name into the silence:
Leonardo.
And still, she didn't know why it frightened her so much.