She gasped softly, the world still spinning around her as she realized she hadn’t hit the ground. Someone had caught her.
“Careful now,” A low but boyish voice murmured something reassuring near her ear, but the words blurred, lost in the ringing that filled her head. Her body felt weak, unsteady, but even before she could see him clearly, she recognized the strength in the arms holding her. He adjusted his grip, steady and sure, pulling her close for a brief moment before setting her down with surprising gentleness.
As she opened her eyes, a chill swept through her—not just from the morning breeze, but from the gaze that met hers. A pair of storm-grey eyes locked onto hers—piercing, glacial, as if carved from living ice. That stare cut through her like a blade, stripping away her thoughts, making her forget the pain in her legs and the shock of nearly falling.
He stood so close. His face hovered mere inches from hers. Long, dark lashes framed those cold eyes, sharp and watchful like a hawk’s. His nose was slender and well-formed, his jaw defined but still touched with the softness of youth. Sunlight spilled across his raven hair, catching the morning light like threads of starlight.
Under the bright sky, his features sharpened into full clarity—and in his eyes, something unfathomable stirred. Time stilled. No sound reached her ears but the whisper of wind through the trees… and the thunder of her own heartbeat. In that fleeting moment, the world contracted until it was just the two of them—her, and the boy with eyes like a frozen sea.
“Aldhen! Are you alright?” Madam Aria’s voice broke the silence, thick with concern.
The boy—Aldhen—tightened his grip on the girl’s arm, steadying her once more.
Madam Aria’s gaze snapped to the girl, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you hurt, dear? You should’ve told me you were having trouble getting down from the carriage.” She stepped forward, extending a gloved hand wrapped in a pristine white handkerchief. The angle of her wrist, the stiffness in her posture, made it clear—Take my hand. Step away from him.
Before the girl could answer, Aldhen spoke. “It’s alright, Madam,” he said calmly. “I just finished my morning run and I’m a bit sweaty. Why don’t I take her to the bath and help clean up her injury?”
Madam Aria’s fingers tightened around the girl’s wrist the moment Aldhen made his offer. The grip wasn’t painful—yet—but the pressure was unmistakable. A silent warning. She leaned in, her voice dropping to just above a whisper, the words meant only for the girl.
“You don’t need to trouble yourself, dear. Aldhen’s quite the thoughtful boy, but I’d rather not put you in an unfamiliar situation so soon.”
Aldhen didn’t respond, not with words. But there was a flicker in his stance—the subtle way his fingers flexed against the girl’s arm, the way he stood just a little straighter, tension coiling in his frame. His eyes flicked toward Madam Aria, then returned to the girl… waiting.
She hesitated, caught between the unspoken tension. Madam Aria’s grip—gentle but firm. Aldhen’s presence—steady, quiet. The morning air grew colder around them, like it too held its breath, pressing questions against her skin that no one dared voice.
Madam’s expression remained composed, her smile undisturbed. But something in her eyes—tight, watchful—betrayed a flicker of unease.
“I’ll be okay,” the girl said, voice small. “The bath sounds… nice.”
For the briefest instant, something raw passed across Madam Aria’s face—an emotion that came and went too quickly to name. But she recovered just as swiftly, her smile widening by a fraction, like the sun breaking through a cloud, deliberate and practiced.
“Of course,” she said lightly, voice smooth as silk. “Very well. Aldhen, please see that she gets cleaned up properly. And mind your manners.”
Aldhen gave a slow nod, his grip shifting subtly from her wrist to her elbow as he guided her forward. His touch was firm, unyielding, yet not unkind. She followed, each step sending fresh waves of pain up her legs, but she refused to show it. Madam Aria watched them both go, her smile never faltering, yet something in her posture had stiffened—her back straighter, her hands clasped tightly together. As they turned the corner of the orphanage, her gaze followed, and even when the walls blocked her view, it still pressed into the girl’s back like a quiet warning.
The interior of the orphanage was bright, there is atleast one painting in the wall. Aldhen led her through corridors, past rooms where dozens of children could be heard moving about—some crying, others laughing. They finally reached a large bathing room for childern. Aldhen moved carefully to a large copper bathtub because the other kid filled that room with so much toys and then he start filled the bathtub with warm water.
“I’ll get bandages,” he said, glancing at her leg. “Wait here.”
She took a shaky breath, the ache in her limbs dulling just slightly as she leaned against the tub's edge. The room was warm, humid, carrying the faint fragrance of lavender from the soap. She stared at the mirror opposite, at the girl reflected back at her—long black hair wild from the wind outside, dark eyes still slightly wide from the unexpected encounter. She looks… filthy, with the mud all over her face.
Aldhen returned quickly, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He knelt beside the tub, producing a small stack of neatly folded bandages and a jar of pungent-smelling ointment. He set them down before looking up at her.
"Can I?"he asked, nodding to her leg.
She hesitated.
"Yes," she finally said. Her words came softer than she intended.
After he help her to bath and dress her with white dress, he dipped his fingers into the jar, retrieving a generous amount of the pale green paste. It smelled like herbs.“This might sting a little,” he warned. "
His touch was firm but careful as he applied the ointment to the wound, his movements was gentle. But she couldn't help but wince at the sting, her muscles tensing involuntarily. Aldhen didn’t stop, his fingers working in slow, deliberate circles around the edges of the injury.
“Breathe,” he instructed, and somehow his words made her realize she'd been holding her breath.
She forced herself to exhale, feeling her shoulders loosen slightly. Aldhen worked with absolute focus, wiping away the excess ointment with a clean cloth before finally wrapping fresh bandages around her leg.
“Thank you,” she said when he finished. Aldhen merely nodded, securing the last knot with a final tug.
He looked up at her again. “What’s your name?”
She froze. Her fingers clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles pale. Aldhen watched her carefully, his storm-grey eyes searching hers as he waited.
“You don’t remember your name?” he asked, more gently now, though his voice still carried an undercurrent of control. She shook her head, feeling strangely exposed without the one thing that should have been most certain.
“No. I…” she gestured vaguely to her head. “It’s like there’s just… nothing. I can’ remember anything. I’m sorry, Aldhen.”
Aldhen's eyes flicker, something unreadable passing through them. He exhales slowly, fingers flexing once against his thigh before he stands. The candlelight casts deep shadows along his jaw, the hard planes of his face catching the golden glow. "My grandfather says that sometimes the mind protects itself when something... difficult happens. Maybe yours is just healing slower than the rest of you.”
She stared up at him, watching the way the dim light played across his features. So sharp they nearly cut the air. There was something oddly beautiful about the way he stood, like a big tree standing tall without even care of the world.
After he made sure she’s well and clean, they returned to Madam Aria, who stood waiting near the main corridor, hands folded neatly in front of her.
“We’ll need to decide where she’ll sleep,” Aldhen said.
Madam Aria gave a soft hum, as if she'd already made up her mind. “She can stay with you and the others in the paradise room, the east wing.”
The moment those words left Madam Aria’s lips, Aldhen’s posture stiffened. His fingers curled slightly at his sides, the only sign of surprise before his expression smoothed back into its familiar mask of calm.
“Aldhen,” Madam Aria continued, her voice light but firm, “I’m sure you won’t mind sharing your space with her for now. The other children in the paradise room will keep her bussy while her memory returns.” She watched the exchange with growing unease, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her freshly washed dress. Aldhen said nothing at first. His storm-grey eyes flicked between the girl and Madam Aria.
“Of course, Madam,” he finally answer.
Madam Aria smiled, satisfied. “Wonderful. She’ll stay with you and the others in the east wing. It’s the quietest part of the house, darling, best for resting.” She turned back to Aldhen. “Make sure she has everything she needs.”
Aldhen nod. “Yes, Madam.”
The walk to the paradise room was quieter than before. She kept stealing glances at him—his eyes seem a little bit darker than before. When they reached the east wing, he led her down a long hallway lined with wooden doors. Stopping before one, he pushed it open to reveal a spacious room with six small beds arranged neatly. Three of the beds were already occupied by sleeping children, while the other remained empty.
“Your bed,” Aldhen said, gesturing to the vacant one. He moved to a small dresser and pulled out a simple nightgown. “Here. You should sleep. It’s a long journey for you.”
“If you’re thirsty there is water beside your bed. Breakfast will start in an hour but don’t worry, I’ll wake you up. If you need anything but I’m not here ask Anez. The closest bed to the window.”
“Thank you, Aldhen.”