"Breakfast is ready," Kael said after a pause. "I had the staff prepare something lighter — I remember you don't like too much salt in the morning."
She blinked. "You remember that?"
He looked at her, brow faintly furrowed, as if confused by the question. "Of course."
Zelene's heart stumbled. Kael Dravenhart never remembered small things.He was the man who forgot meals, who worked through nights, who lived half in his thoughts.
And now he remembered that?
At the table, he poured her tea before his own.When she reached for the honey, his hand was already there, steadying the spoon so it wouldn't spill.
Every small act — precise, quiet, intentional — made her pulse stutter more than any grand gesture could have.
"It's—" She paused, searching for the right word. "Suspicious."
She told herself she should feel relieved.That this sudden gentleness wasn't real — just part of a game. A performance.But her chest still ached, because somewhere deep down, a small foolish part of her had wanted it to be true.
The silence stretched between them.Birdsong filled the air — delicate, almost mocking.
Finally, Zelene said, "You don't need to try so hard. They already believe it."
"Maybe," Kael murmured, his voice unreadable. "But for once, I'd rather not have to lie."
Zelene blinked, startled. "What does that mean?"
He didn't answer. Just looked at her — really looked — as if memorizing the way the sunlight caught in her hair.Then he turned away before she could speak again.
"Come on," he said quietly. "Darius wants us in the council chamber by noon. The others are already waiting."
And with that, the spell broke.
---
The morning came softer than usual in Dravenhart. The golden light bled through the tall arched windows, glinting off the polished marble and the fresh banners that fluttered in the courtyard. For the first time since her return, Zelene felt warmth where once there had only been shadow.
The manor had changed — not in its walls, but in its air. Servants smiled when she passed, knights bowed with something close to reverence. The halls hummed faintly with laughter, music even. Dravenhart, once a fortress of iron discipline, had become… alive.
And at the center of it all was Kael Dravenhart.
He had been different since that day. Small gestures at first — pulling out her chair, carrying her cloak, escorting her down every hall even when unnecessary. Then, it grew. His hand at her back lingered a second longer. His tone softened when he said her name. His eyes found her even in a crowd.
And it was driving Zelene mad.
She caught herself staring again that morning. Kael stood by the balcony, the light cutting through the window behind him. His dark hair fell just above his eyes, tousled in a way that made him look almost careless — though nothing about him ever truly was. His jaw was sharp, clean, the kind sculptors spent years trying to capture. His uniform clung perfectly to the breadth of his shoulders, the black and crimson sigils of Dravenhart etched like fire against steel.
He turned, catching her gaze.
"Something wrong?" His voice carried that low, rich timbre — calm, steady, but with a weight that always made her pulse skip.
Zelene blinked and looked away, pretending to busy herself with her gloves. "No. Just… thinking."
He smiled faintly, stepping closer. "About our performance?"
She frowned. "Performance?"
Kael met her eyes, that glint of teasing barely hiding the tiredness beneath. "You said it yourself — we need to appear convincing as an engaged couple." He paused. "I thought it would help if I started acting the part."
She felt her breath catch. "By… doing this?"
He tilted his head slightly, a smirk ghosting over his lips. "Would you rather I pretend poorly, Lady Zelene? The whole point is to sell the illusion."
An illusion.
She forced a small laugh, though it sounded thinner than she meant. "Right. Of course. Wouldn't want to disappoint the court."
He didn't press further, but his gaze lingered — as if searching for something behind her composure. When he finally turned away, she let herself exhale, the air tight in her chest.
That afternoon, the council gathered in the great hall before their departure to the capital. The three remaining Swords of Aether sat around the table — Alaric of Evandelle, her father, his hair now streaked with silver but his eyes sharp as ever; Kael of Dravenhart, ever composed beside her; and Lord Valemont, with Elric quietly standing behind him.
The room was heavy with politics, reports, and plans for the coming council dinner at the capital. Yet all Zelene could think about was home.
Evandelle.
Her heart fluttered at the thought — the open courtyards, the sound of her father's laughter echoing through the halls. It had been so long since she'd seen him, and now, for the first time in months, she would walk through those gates again.
After the meeting adjourned, Zelene turned to Kael.
"I'll be staying in Evandelle for a while," she said carefully, her hands clasped in front of her. "It's improper for me to keep lodging in Dravenhart when we're not yet married. People might start saying… things."
Kael didn't move for a long moment. The words hung between them, sharper than either intended.
"I see," he said finally, his tone even — too even. "If that's what you wish."
"It's only for appearances," she added quickly, though she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince. "Once the council season ends, I'll return for the ceremonies."
He nodded once, the faintest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Understood. You've always been careful about appearances."
Zelene's chest tightened.
What she didn't say — what she couldn't — was that she needed space. From him. From the way her heart kept tripping over itself every time he looked at her that way.
Kael Dravenhart was everything she told herself not to want — disciplined, sharp, unbearably composed, yet with that quiet gravity that drew her in like a storm she could never outrun.
And now that he was acting like he cared — even if it was just to "sell the illusion" — it was too much.
She needed distance.
She needed to breathe.
She needed to stop falling.
Kael inclined his head. "Then I'll make the arrangements. We leave for the capital tomorrow."
He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway, his voice lower this time — softer, almost wistful.
"I hope… your father's proud when he sees you again."
Then he was gone.
Zelene stood there long after he left, staring at the door — her heart aching with something she refused to name.
"Don't fall for him," she whispered to herself.
"Not when it's just an act."