At Seymour's estate…
The room smelled faintly of rosewater and damp cotton. Acacia lay beneath thick linens, her hair still damp against the pillow despite the fire crackling in the hearth.
A low murmur of voices filtered in through the hallway. Footsteps came and went. She didn't move.
She blinked up at the canopy above her, trying to remember when her heart had last calmed.
It hadn't. Not really.
There were flashes again, of a crest, the crest of a silver crown cradled by wings and flames.
Not just a symbol. A sigil. And it pulsed behind her eyes like something alive.
Why do I know that?
The name hadn't returned. Not completely. But something in her had.
There was a soft knock, then the door creaked open.
Dominic stepped inside first, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. "You're awake."
Astor followed behind, arms crossed but eyes unusually serious. "About time. You had half the estate pacing like headless pigeons."
Dominic shot him a look then turned back to her. "How are you feeling?"
Acacia's voice came low, still scratchy. "Tired. Cold. Like... I've been dragged through ice."
"That checks out," Astor muttered, though his usual smirk didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You inhaled a good amount of lake water," Dominic said, more gently now. "You've been asleep for hours. The others were in earlier but we stepped out to give you rest."
"Everyone's still here?" she asked.
"They are," Dominic nodded. "We'll be leaving the estate tomorrow morning. You should rest more before then."
Despite herself, a faint breath of amusement escaped her. "Sorry to cause trouble."
Dominic's voice was quiet but firm. "You didn't."
For a moment, none of them spoke. Outside, the wind rustled against the shutters, soft and steady. Inside, the silence wasn't heavy, it was a shared pause, filled with the weight of near-loss and unspoken thoughts.
Then came another soft knock.
The door opened again and this time it was Argan and Seren.
Argan's coat was still damp at the hem, his hair tousled from the wind. He stepped in first, nodded at Dominic and Astor acknowledging their presence, his eyes scanning her face as if to ensure she was truly there, truly awake.
"You seem warmer now," he noted quietly, his voice rough around the edges. "Good."
Seren followed, his usual composure dulled. His gaze didn't leave her as he spoke, voice low. "I should've caught you. You slipped too fast."
Acacia blinked, surprised by the guilt etched in his features. "It wasn't your fault."
He didn't argue, just gave a small nod.
Astor, unusually subdued, let out a breath and offered a half-hearted grin. "Well, next time you feel like flying, try not to aim for lakes. Scared the hell out of us."
Acacia let out a dry laugh, weak but real. "Noted."
Dominic stepped forward, placing a small vial on the side table. "It's just a tonic. In case the chills return."
"Thank you," she murmured.
Argan looked at her a beat longer, his voice softer now. "You should rest. We'll be downstairs."
Seren didn't speak this time but his eyes lingered on her, gaze unreadable. Then he turned and opened the door.
One by one, they filed out, Dominic steady, Astor with a final wink, Argan silent, and Seren last of all, pausing only to glance back once.
Then the door shut gently.
Acacia sank back into the pillows, listening to the fading footsteps.
The quiet that followed was no longer cold, it was warm, strangely comforting.
Down the hall, the smaller dining room at the Seymour estate was quiet but comfortably lit. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Plates had been mostly cleared, but a kettle of warm tea and slices of bread with honey still sat untouched at the center of the table.
Begonia sat curled into her chair, her brow furrowed as she stared into her teacup. Irene tapped her fingers restlessly on the armrest beside her. Myron stood near the fireplace, arms folded, gaze lost in the flicker of flames.
The door creaked open.
Dominic entered first, followed by Argan, Seren and Astor. The weight of their presence shifted the air in the room.
"She's awake," Dominic said plainly, his voice steady.
Begonia sat up straight. "And?"
Astor gave a small smile. "Still groggy. But she spoke. We told her to rest."
Myron exhaled. "I still can't believe it. One minute she was on the boat, the next, gone."
"I should have caught her before she fell," Seren said, almost to himself.
"It wasn't your fault," Dominic replied, glancing at him. "It happened too fast."
They stood there for a moment, the silence not heavy, but thoughtful. Each of them carried a piece of the weight that hadn't been spoken aloud.
"She's safe now," Irene said softly. "That's what matters."
The next morning
The sun filtered weakly through the overcast sky, casting a pale sheen over the Seymour estate. Dew clung to the windowpanes and the wind held a sharpness that hinted the season was ready to turn.
In the dining room, the long table was laid out simply, steaming porridge, baked apples, bread still warm from the oven and a pot of black tea. The youths gathered in quiet conversation, the atmosphere lighter but still touched by the memory of the night before.
Astor yawned dramatically as he reached for the bread.
Dominic glanced toward the hallway leading to the guest wing. "She'll be ready soon. I checked on her before coming down, still pale, but better."
Astor nodded. "The sooner we return, the better. The roads are clear at this hour"
"Is she not hungry?" asked Begonia.
"She didn't have an appetite, I made sure she would at least drink a bowl of soup before coming down" replied Dominic.
Argan leaned back in his chair. "I still say she should've rested another day."
"She insisted," Dominic said, his tone quieter than usual. "Didn't want to delay the rest of us."
There was a pause, gentle, respectful. Then chairs scraped against the floor as they rose, one by one.
The carriage would be ready within the hour. The memories of the lake and quiet burdens would soon be behind them.