The camp had quieted under the deepening evening, the warded circles glowing faintly like golden embers beneath the moonlight. After the brief inspection, everyone had returned to the camp. Inside, Ilaria knelt beside one of the younger knights, gently pressing a hand on his arm. The cut was not severe, but it still made him flinch.
"There," she said softly, letting the trails of light to heal the wound. "Easy now. Just breathe, you'll get yourself in more trouble if you move too much."
The knight's eyes met hers, gratitude mingled with awe. "Princess… thank you, really, but you don't have to do this. I can— I can take care of it myself—"
"It's alright," she shushed him with a raise of her finger, smiling brightly. "It's better to get yourself heal quickly than need to wait for the stitches to heal itself. You've faced far worse than a scrape, haven't you?"
He nodded, managing a small smile, flustered by the princess' gentle words. "Yes… but still."
