The physician returned once more, this time with gentler hands and a softer voice. He checked Selene's pulse, adjusted the bandages, and left behind a vial of tincture that smelled faintly of lavender and iron.
"She's stabilizing," he said to Theodore. "The reaction is subsiding. Her body is no longer fighting itself."
Theodore nodded but didn't speak.
Selene remained asleep, her breath steady now, her skin no longer burning. The redness had dulled to a pale flush, and the blisters had stopped spreading. Her fingers twitched occasionally, as if reaching for something in a dream.
Anna brought in fresh linens and a bowl of warm broth. She didn't speak either. The air in the room was too delicate to disturb.
Theodore sat beside Selene, his posture straighter now, though his eyes remained heavy. He hadn't changed clothes. He hadn't eaten. He hadn't left.
Outside, the wind had quieted. The wisteria no longer swayed violently. The petals that had scattered earlier now lay still across the garden path, like confetti after a procession no one celebrated.
The estate itself seemed to hold its breath.
On the other hand, in the main house, Alice stood by her window, watching the sky turn from lavender to ash.
She had not been summoned, nor was she scolded and reprimanded.
But she knew.
The Grand Duchess had said nothing since Theodore left. Her silence was not mercy—she was watching her every move, scheming something.
Alice's fingers curled around the edge of the curtain. She had played her hand, and she had watched the reaction unfold. Now, all that's left to do was to wait.
But waiting was its own punishment.
She had expected discomfort. A rash, perhaps? or a moment of weakness.
There were none of those that she expected.
Back in the annex, Selene stirred.
Her eyes opened slowly, blinking against the soft candlelight. Her gaze found Theodore immediately.
"You're still here," she whispered.
He leaned forward. "I'm not leaving."
She didn't reply.
Her voice was hoarse, her body clearly weak. But her mind was clear.
"I remember the cup," she said. "..It shimmered."
He nodded. "Nickel glaze."
She closed her eyes briefly. "She knew."
"I know."
Theodore looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Now we wait."
"For what?" Selene's brows furrowed, exhaustion rising.
"For her next move."
Selene didn't argue anymore,
She didn't need to—and just like that, she fell into unconsciousness once again.
The room was quiet, but the silence did not mean peace. Later that evening, Theodore stepped outside for the first time in hours.
The garden was still damp from the earlier wind. The sky had turned a deep indigo, stars beginning to blink into view.
He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, thoughts weighing on him.
He didn't go to the main house.
He walked the perimeter of the annex as if he were guarding something fragile.
The annex had grown quieter than before—not the kind of silence born from dread, but the kind that follows after something breaks and begins to mend.
____
Selene woke again just past midnight.
The candle had burned low, casting a soft amber glow across the room. The air was still, the annex wrapped in silence. Outside, the garden slept. Inside, Theodore remained seated at her bedside, unmoving.
She shifted slightly, the linen brushing against her skin. Her breath caught—not from pain, but from the weight of everything that had happened.
Theodore noticed immediately.
He stood, walked to her slowly, and then knelt beside the bed.
"I thought I lost you," he said, voice low, raw.
Selene blinked. "You didn't."
"I almost did." His hands clenched at his sides. "I watched you burn. I watched you slip away, and I couldn't do anything."
"You stayed," she murmured.
"I stayed because I couldn't bear the thought of you leaving like that. Not again. Not like that."
She didn't speak.
He leaned closer, eyes searching hers. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever let yourself be hurt like that. Not for me. Not for anyone."
Selene's gaze softened. "You didn't hurt me."
"I didn't protect you," he said. "And that's worse." his voice hoarse and quiet.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek. "You did. You came back to me."
Theodore closed his eyes briefly as if her touch steadied something inside him.
"I should've fought harder," he whispered. "I should've seen it coming."
"You couldn't have," she said. "She's very cunning and meticulous." her arms weakly reached for Theodore's face.
"But I'm done letting her win." he uttered with resolve.
Selene's hand lingered against his face. "Then stop kneeling."
He looked up, startled.
"Sit beside me," she motioned on the emptiness beside her.
And so he did. Like a puppy.
The silence between them shifted—The atmosphere no longer felt heavy, no longer sharp. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn't awkward.
"I forgive you," she said.
Theodore's breath hitched. "You shouldn't have to."
"But I do?" She replied, the corners of her lips curving into a smile.
He reached for her hand, this time without hesitation. Their fingers intertwined.
Selene leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. "I'm tired."
"I know."
"But I'm here." he continued.
He turned slightly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And I'm not going anywhere."
The candle flickered.
Selene's breath hitched at her heartbeat's pace.
Theodore's hand moved to her waist—gentle and sweetly.
She didn't pull away...she couldn't bear to.
The stars blinked quietly overhead.
And the night began to unfold—as the candle burned lower, the space between them disappeared.