Her face was warm, far too warm. And beneath his hands, Aeren could feel the tremble in her skin, the heat of her grief seeping into his palms. Her eyes were red and swollen, lips parted slightly as if the weight of everything inside her still needed to escape. He had seen humans cry before, centuries of it, but this? This pierced him.
A pang split through his chest like an old wound breaking open again.
She looked too much like Elya.
In the way her expression broke with sorrow, in the defiance still flaring through her tears. In how she looked up at him with raw hurt and demanded why. Demanded justice. Demanded answers.
Elya had once stood just like that, in this very room. And he had failed her too.
"I'm sorry," Aeren whispered. The words left him before he could stop them, rough and low, as if torn from the depths of his ribs. "I am truly sorry, Kaela."
At his apology, she blinked, startled. Did a Fae Lord just apologize to her?
Her wide eyes flicked over his face… and then down to his lips. Just for a moment. But it was enough.
Enough for something to stir inside him.
Enough for his hands to tense ever so slightly where they cradled her cheeks. Enough for his breath to falter.
He released her instantly.
"She was possessed," he said, voice distant now, drawn tight with restraint. "I can not tell you the full details, but her death wasn't out of spite. Something ancient and evil had possessed her."
She sniffled, brushing her face with the back of her hand, eyes lowered. "I didn't know."
"You weren't meant to," he murmured.
She nodded once, slowly, and then her spine straightened with a new kind of shame. What was she doing this close to a Fae lord?
"Forgive me," she said softly. "I am sorry. I had no right to enter your chambers like this. Especially without invitation. I'm only a servant. A human."
Aeren looked at her and shook his head.
"I do not mind. We all grieve. Man, Fae." He said softly and she bowed.
She turned slightly toward the door, her shoulders still trembling, but before she could leave, he spoke again. Quietly. Firmly.
"Stay."
She stopped, hand just an inch from the door handle.
Behind her, Aeren stood utterly still.
His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breath came unevenly. Somewhere in the hollow between his ribs, guilt twisted.
What was he doing? What was he doing?
Asking a human to stay with him?
He was becoming reckless. Too reckless. Soft.
And he could not afford that right now.
He drew in a breath, the air thin and bitter in his lungs. "Forgive me," he said finally.
He took a step back. His gaze dropped.
"No," he corrected, voice lower, restrained. "Do not stay. It was poorly said. You may leave."
After speaking, he did not look at her again.
Instead, he turned toward the window, staring into it as if the light coming in through it might absolve him, wash away the want he dared not name, the mistake he had almost made.
Behind him, Kaela stood motionless for a moment longer.
Then, without a word, opened the door. Her footsteps were soft, but in the hush of the chamber, they echoed like thunder.
The door clicked shut behind her.
But she did not take all of herself with her.
Kaela descended the narrow stairway, her fingers brushing the stone rail as if for balance. Her heart was still pounding, a wild, fluttering thing caged behind her ribs. Each beat seemed louder in the quiet, like the sound alone might betray her.
His hands had been warm.
She could still feel them. On her cheeks.
And his eyes…
He had looked at her not like a servant. Not like someone beneath him.
But like someone who mattered.
She clenched her jaw, the heat in her cheeks refusing to fade.
It didn't make sense.
This wasn't meant to happen. Not with him. Not here. He was a Fae lord. She was a mere human.
Her thoughts caught again on a name: Elya.
Lady Nythera had spoken it the day before, and she implied that Lord Aeren had once loved her.
That would explain it. That would make sense of his sudden nearness, his strange quietness, the sorrow behind his gaze.
He hadn't been holding her. He'd been reaching for a memory. A ghost.
And she had been foolish enough to feel seen.
Kaela shook her head sharply, as if she could shake the thoughts loose.
She turned sharply at the next junction, heading toward the upper levels of the west wing, toward Lady Nythera's private chambers.
She had already invited Kaela to come to learn more about Elya, and now more than ever, curiosity gnawed at Kaela.
She would find out.
~
Unseen, from a fold in the shadows just beyond the reach of torchlight, a figure stood.
Tall. Motionless. Cloaked in a garment woven from dark fabric, the kind that caught no light.
Their face was hidden beneath a hood, but the mouth was visible, curled into something that resembled a smile, if one tilted their head and ignored the cracks.
The figure watched Kaela pass.
Watched the way her shoulders tensed as she walked, the stubborn angle of her jaw, the quiet determination in her steps.
So.
The little human girl had left the Lord's chambers.
Alone.
Unsilenced.
Unscathed.
But not untouched.
No… not untouched.
Her eyes had been red.
She had cried in his presence.
How rare. How curious.
The figure tilted their head slightly and a low chuckle rose from their throat, dry, brittle, mocking.
What a lovely thing grief was.
So raw. So open. So… useful.
It peeled people open, let the light in, let the darkness in deeper.
And this girl?
Oh, she would fall. Not quickly. Not loudly.
But deeply.
And the cracks would start right where the Lord had looked at her, not as a servant…
…but as someone who mattered.
How very interesting.
The figure melted back into the shadows without a sound.
And the palace sighed around them.