The morning mist clung low to the garden like a protective veil, muffling the world beyond its stone walls. Dew painted every leaf and petal in silver, and the air held a stillness that felt aware.
Caelum pushed open the crooked gate carefully, his steps instinctively soft — not out of fear, but reverence.
Elowen was already there, standing barefoot in the grass, her arms wrapped around herself despite the gentle sun. Her long robe brushed against wild lavender stalks as she slowly turned to face him.
"You came again," she said, voice quiet.
"I think the garden likes me," Caelum replied, offering a crooked grin.
Elowen tilted her head. "It's not the garden you should worry about."
She looked away then, her gaze skimming the rows of half-dead vines and stubborn green shoots. Something moved under her feet — not a creature, but the grass itself. Caelum watched as clover seemed to shift subtly beneath her steps, leaning toward her like it sought comfort.
"Elowen," he asked gently, "does this place ever scare you?"
Her eyes didn't leave the garden. "Sometimes I think it remembers me better than people do."
"…Is that good or bad?"
"I'm not sure yet."
A breeze stirred — soft, but deliberate. The leaves rustled above, not wildly, but like they were whispering something meant only for them. As Caelum stepped closer to her, a row of flowers that had remained closed for days quivered... then one bloomed. Just one.
Neither of them said a word about it.
Elowen sank down onto the stone bench beneath the arched trellis and pulled her knees to her chest.
"I wasn't supposed to be born," she said softly. "That's what they whispered when they thought I couldn't hear. My father loved me, but… after Mother—after the magic—he grew quiet. The servants changed. They kept their eyes down, and when I walked past, their prayers got louder."
Caelum sat beside her. "You weren't a mistake."
"You don't even know what I am."
"I don't have to." He offered a smile. "You brought a dead plant back to life with a laugh. That's a better magic than most."
She didn't smile this time, but her eyes softened.
"I don't remember ever feeling calm like this," she whispered.
A nearby vine stretched subtly toward Caelum's leg, curling at his ankle before slipping away like it had just been checking.
They sat in silence, letting the garden breathe around them.
Then the bell from the estate tower rang — two slow, deliberate tolls.
Elowen stiffened.
"What's that?" Caelum asked.
"A visitor from the capital," she said, already standing. "They don't ring that bell unless it's someone important."
Her tone had changed — not fear, exactly. But something cold and bracing, like armor being drawn up piece by piece.
Caelum rose too. "Want me to come with you?"
"I don't want you anywhere near whoever it is," she replied — too quickly, then glanced at him. "But I also… don't want to go alone."
He smiled gently. "Then I'll walk beside you."
The grand entrance of House Thorne had been polished to perfection. Servants lined the walls like statues, their expressions taut and unreadable. The carriage that waited outside bore the royal sigil — a lion inlaid with sunfire gold. It was unmistakable.
A young man stepped down from it, cloak fluttering behind him. His posture was loose, but too deliberate — the kind of ease only power could afford. Golden hair tousled in soft waves, and eyes like frozen sapphire scanned the courtyard before locking onto Elowen.
"Lady Elowen Thorne," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You've grown."
Caelum knew who this was before Elowen even replied.
Prince Lucien Aurelian.Second son of the Emperor. A rising favorite of the court.
And in the original novel — the one Caelum had read — he was the first to humiliate Elowen in public. The first to plant a seed of doubt in her, cloaked in charm and politeness.
But this time, something was off.
Elowen didn't flinch under the gaze. Instead, Caelum stepped forward before she could respond.
"I'm Caelum Thorne," he said with perfect poise. "Elowen's betrothed."
The prince's eyebrows rose slightly. "Betrothed? I wasn't aware House Thorne had confirmed—"
"We've known each other since childhood," Caelum continued smoothly. "And I'm afraid Elowen doesn't entertain surprise visits without invitation."
Elowen blinked. Then… a tiny smile bloomed at the corner of her lips.
For a beat, Prince Lucien said nothing. Then he laughed — genuinely. "Ah. I like you already."
But his eyes — sharp and unreadable — lingered on Caelum a moment too long.
Later, as the sun fell behind the hills, Caelum found himself alone again in his room.
He opened the notebook.
New words had appeared:
He was supposed to embarrass her today.You altered the scene.The garden remembers.She is changing.
And below, in smaller text:
Not all who smile are friends.Not all who hate are enemies.
Caelum stared at the final line for a long time before closing the book.
Somewhere outside, under the violet dusk, the garden hummed with quiet awareness.
And in her room, Elowen held a piece of ribbon from Caelum's sleeve — torn when he'd stepped forward protectively — and held it like it meant more than gold.