The estate felt strangely alive in the days that followed. Not with danger, not with the usual weight of tension, but with a rhythm that was almost… ordinary. Almost.
The traitor who had placed the portrait and pendant in the dining hall had yet to be found. Dimitri had doubled the guard, tripled the watch, and questioned every servant, but no shadow had given itself away. For now, silence reigned. A silence too still, too calculated. But in that silence, Riella had space to breathe.
Amelia and Chloe had returned to their manor for a short while, tasked with retrieving belongings left behind in the fire. They returned often, sometimes staying a day or two, sometimes only long enough to sit with Riella and press her hands with warmth. Amelia especially clung to her friend, her voice often breaking into laughter when Riella grew too serious, pulling her back from grief with gentle teasing and long embraces.
The twins—Noel and Nathaniel—became Riella's fiercest companions in those days. They sought her out every morning, dragging her into the gardens to pick flowers or to play endless games of hide-and-seek in the halls. Their laughter often echoed through the estate like bells, and though Riella's smile had been slow to return, it was them who coaxed it out piece by piece. She would kneel to listen to their stories, braid their hair when they grew restless, or chase them barefoot through the grass while they shrieked with delight.
And Dimitri… watched.
At first, he had told himself it was duty. She was the center of a storm no one else saw coming. He had sworn to protect her long before she could even remember her own name. His presence was necessary, vital. That was what he told himself.
But Kael noticed.
His twin had always been quick to see through him, and more than once Kael caught Dimitri's eyes following Riella when she laughed with the boys, or the way his expression softened when she knelt to console them after one of their playful quarrels. There was no hardness in his face then, no iron. Just quiet reverence, as if the sight of her mending innocence was something he had long forgotten how to do himself.
Dimitri was always nearby. If Riella walked the gardens, he appeared minutes later, claiming to check the patrol routes. If she lingered in the library, he passed through, pretending to search for maps. If she sat by the window at night, staring at the stars as though searching for answers in their glow, he was not far—always close enough that if danger struck, his sword could be unsheathed in a breath.
But he never intruded. Not with force. His presence was steady, silent, but undeniable.
One evening, the estate glowed with lantern light. The twins had dragged Riella to the music room where a dusty old piano stood, its keys slightly out of tune. Noel insisted she play, though she swore she didn't know how. Nathaniel laughed and declared they would all "make noise together" instead. Soon the air was filled with off-key notes and high-pitched singing, the boys bouncing around her as she laughed until tears welled in her eyes.
From the doorway, Dimitri leaned against the frame. He said nothing, arms folded, but Kael's glance toward him was telling.
"You've never stood guard over anyone with that expression before," Kael murmured under his breath, stepping up beside him.
Dimitri's jaw tightened, but his eyes never left Riella. "You're imagining things."
Kael smirked. "Am I?"
Dimitri didn't answer.
The week passed slowly, a rare stretch of calm. Seraphine had departed once again for her travels, promising she would return early this time. Chloe and Amelia, when they stayed, often joined Riella in her walks or her quiet reading sessions, filling the halls with softer voices that lightened the estate.
Yet even with the others around her, Riella found herself drawn to Dimitri's steadiness. He did not overwhelm her with comfort like Amelia, nor distract her like the twins. He simply stayed. A silent presence at her side in the garden, across the table during meals, or even passing her a cup of tea without a word when he noticed her hands trembling.
And it was in those small things that something inside her shifted.
One afternoon, as rain drummed softly against the windows, Riella sat curled by the fire with a book in hand. The flames crackled, but her mind was restless, her fingers toying with the chain of the pendant now resting safely around her neck.
A shadow passed across the room, and she looked up.
Dimitri had entered quietly, as he always did. He said nothing, merely crossed the space and set a folded blanket across the arm of her chair. His hand lingered for just a second—too brief to be called a caress—before he withdrew.
"You'll catch cold," he said simply.
Riella blinked, her lips parting slightly, her chest tightening at the simple care in his tone. She nodded, drawing the blanket around her shoulders.
Their eyes met for a moment too long, the firelight reflecting between them, before he turned and left.
Kael, who had been in the hall, caught that look too. And the weight of it made him realize Dimitri wasn't only watching her anymore. He was drawn to her. Quietly, deeply, dangerously.
And Riella… wasn't pushing him away.
For a week there were no threats, no fires, no shadows creeping in the night. Just the strange, fragile rhythm of something new being born.
But beneath it all, unspoken, lingered a truth none of them could yet name.
Dimitri was no longer keeping his distance. He was no longer hiding behind cold walls when it came to Riella.
He was stepping closer.