Days passed in routine . She arrived before dawn , transcribed reports , listened to councils , spoke only when asked . Caelum spoke even less .
Yet something grew .
Not in words — but in glances held a second too long . In the way he handed her scrolls , always brushing her fingertips . In the way his eyes softened — barely — when she spoke . He never smiled but she thought he might , one day .
One evening , as storms battered the keep is high windows , he said , " stay ."
Elira , halfway to the door , paused . " Highness ?"
He did not look at her . Just motioned toward the maps .
" I want your thoughts on troop logistics for the winter ."
She stayed .
They worked for hours . He tested her — her logic , her recall , her instincts .
She passed every time .
Finally , he said , " You have earned more than silence , Elira Vane ."
She turned to him . " Then speak to me not as your scribe . Just a man to a woman ."
A pause . His breath caught , subtle . And then —
" I do not know how ."
🖤🖤🖤