Kyel lowered Eva gently onto the bed, his movements careful, as though she were made of porcelain that might shatter at the slightest touch.
A moment later, Hans stepped into the room, a hooded figure following close behind.
"I brought the healer," Hans announced.
Kyel's gaze flicked to the man. "Come here—now. Heal her." His voice was low but edged with urgency.
The healer approached, but before his hands could reach her, Eva's trembling fingers clutched the front of Kyel's shirt, holding on as though he were the only thing keeping her grounded.
"Eva…" Kyel bent close, his voice softening. "Close your eyes. Don't be afraid. I'm here."
She hesitated, her lashes fluttering, and then her eyes shut, trusting him—if only for this moment.
The healer's hands glowed faintly as they hovered over her. A subtle warmth filled the air, the faint scent of herbs lingering.
"It's done," the healer murmured, stepping back.
Kyel straightened. "You can go now."
Hans led the man away, and the room fell into silence save for the faint crackle of the hearth.
"Kyel…" Eva's voice was faint, childlike. "I want to go home."
"It's late," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We'll leave in the morning. For now… take some rest."
He eased down beside her, letting her head settle against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. One arm curved around her protectively, as though daring the world to come near.
"Just close your eyes," he whispered.
Her breathing slowed, and he felt the tension in her body fade. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she drifted into sleep.
---
(Next Morning – Royal Palace)
The first thing Eva felt was warmth—steady, solid, and familiar. Her eyes opened slowly to find herself still resting against Kyel's chest.
"You're awake," Kyel murmured, his deep voice still touched with morning roughness.
"Kyel…" she whispered, slowly sitting up.
"You didn't sleep," she said, noticing the faint shadows beneath his eyes.
"I did," he replied simply.
She gave him a pointed look. "Don't lie to me."
Kyel's lips curved faintly, but he didn't answer the accusation. "Don't worry about me. Just focus on yourself."
She gave a small nod, her hair falling into her face.
"How's your body?" he asked, his gaze searching hers. "You're not in pain, are you?"
"No," she murmured.
"Good."
She hesitated, then spoke softly. "Kyel… can we go home now?"
"Alright." He stood, his tone gentle but decisive. "I'll prepare the carriage and have your clothes changed."
He left the room, his boots striking the polished floor with purpose, and made his way to his office.
Hans was already waiting. "Your Majesty."
"Tell a servant to bring clothes for Eva," Kyel ordered. "And prepare a carriage for us."
Hans hesitated. "You're leaving, Your Majesty?"
"Yes. She wants to go home."
"I'll arrange it immediately."
"And one more thing—send the duchess back to her state. I don't want her lingering here."
Hans bowed. "As you command."
"I'll be back tonight," Kyel added, his eyes sharpening. "Don't take your eyes off that bastard Duke Malric Vane."
Hans's expression hardened. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Go."
Hans left, and moments later, Kyel returned to Eva's chamber.
"Princess," he said softly, "the carriage is ready. Let's go."
Eva nodded and began to rise, but Kyel was already at her side. In one smooth motion, he lifted her into his arms.
"Kyel, I can walk—," she protested.
"Just stay still." His tone left no room for argument.
Carrying her through the palace halls, Kyel kept his eyes forward, ignoring the curious glances of servants.
In front of the waiting carriage, he set her down gently onto the seat before stepping in beside her.
Hans stood nearby.
"Mr. Hans," Eva called softly.
"Yes, Lady Eva?"
"Tell Eyan I said… thank you. If he hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened."
Hans's gaze flickered briefly to Kyel before he nodded. "I'll tell him."
"Thank you," she said with a faint smile.
Kyel turned to the coachman. "Let's go."
The carriage lurched forward, wheels rattling over the cobblestone as they began their journey home.
---
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of their home. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and fresh earth.
Kyel stepped out first, his boots meeting the stone path with a soft thud. He turned, extending his hand toward her.
Eva placed her fingers in his, her grip light but warm, and he helped her down. Without letting go, he guided her inside.
"Go and take a bath," Kyel said once they stepped into the quiet warmth of the house. "I'll cook something for you to eat."
She nodded silently and disappeared down the hall, the soft sound of her footsteps fading.
Kyel moved into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up. The faint sizzle of the pan and the aroma of bread and herbs soon filled the air. His hands worked methodically, as if cooking for her was the most natural thing in the world.
When Eva returned, her hair still damp from the bath, she lingered in the doorway for a moment.
"Kyel," she said gently, "you should go and take a bath too."
"I will," he replied, glancing over his shoulder at her. "The breakfast is almost ready."
He turned off the stove, the pan still warm, and set the plates aside. Without another word, he headed toward the washroom, the faint sound of running water soon replacing the quiet hum of the kitchen.
---
Morning light slanted through the window, painting the wooden table in soft gold. The warmth of the food between them did little to ease the weight in the air.
Kyel set his fork down, his gaze fixed on her.
"Princess…"
Eva lifted her eyes. "Yes?"
"I know it's hard for you," his voice was low, almost coaxing, "but I need you to tell me everything that happened to you."
Her lips parted slightly. "You… want to know?"
"Yes." His tone left no room for hesitation. "I want to know—every detail. Don't leave a single thing behind."
Silence settled over the table. Eva stared at her plate, her fingers tightening around her fork. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady, each word pressing into the stillness.
She told him.
Everything.
What Duke Malric Vane had done to her.
With each word, Kyel's expression darkened, his jaw tightening until the muscle there ticked.
"You didn't tell your parents?" His voice was sharper now, cutting into the quiet.
"I did," she said softly, almost bitterly. "But they didn't believe me."
Her gaze drifted away as she continued. "The duke told them I was the one who called him to my room. My father… he believed him. I didn't just lose their trust—I was punished for it."
Kyel's fingers curled into a fist, the tendons standing out beneath his skin.
So cutting out the tongue of Elric Elvaris was a light punishment after all, he thought, his anger coiling like a drawn blade.
"Kyel?" Her voice pulled him back. She was watching him, her eyes searching. "What happened?"
He relaxed his hand slowly, forcing the tension from his face. "Nothing," he said, his tone controlled. "Let's eat."
But even as he picked up his fork, the storm behind his eyes hadn't quieted.