Morning sunlight spilled through the cracks of the worn shutters, scattering golden dust across the floorboards. Aurelia rose early, just as she always did. The scent of soap and smoke lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the sound of her mother's soft humming from the next room. She tied her hair up, slipped on her worn dress, and began her usual routine.....sweeping, scrubbing, and arranging what little furniture they had.
The morning was peaceful, though her sister's silence weighed heavily on the air.
Liora hadn't spoken much since that night's heated exchange...not knowing Aurelia had come home late from the woods again.
Aurelia could still feel the sting of her sister's glare, those eyes filled with the kind of anger that only worry could disguise.
"Always running off?" liora had hissed before storming off to her room.
Now, liora sat at the wooden table with her arms folded, glaring at Aurelia between bites of bread.
"Good morning," Aurelia said carefully, hoping to thaw the chill in the air.
Liora didn't look up. "Morning? You're calling it good?"
Aurelia sighed. "Liora—"
"Mother doesn't say anything, but I will," Liora interrupted. "If you keep sneaking off to that forest, you'll get into trouble. What if something happens to you?"
Aurelia hesitated, her hand tightening around the broom handle. "Nothing will happen to me. I just go to think, that's all."
"Think?" Liora's scoff was sharp. "More like dream. You're always dreaming about something impossible."
Aurelia looked away. She didn't bother explaining—not about the man she'd met, not about the strange calm she felt around him, not about the way he looked at her like she was something rare in his world of chaos.
Their mother's voice cut through the tension.
"That's enough, girls."
Both sisters turned.
Their mother, gentle but weary, stood in the doorway with a basket in hand. Her gray shawl was draped loosely over her shoulders, and her eyes—kind but calculating—rested on Aurelia.
"Aurelia, I have something important for you today," she said.
Aurelia blinked. "For me?"
"Yes. You'll go to Dewshake Town. I heard they're selling cotton cheaper there. We need to buy as much as we can before the traders raise their prices again."
Dewshake.
The name rang like a bell in her mind.
It was the same town Malion had once said he came from—or so he claimed.
Aurelia's heart skipped a beat. "Of course, Mother. I can go tomorrow."
Her mother nodded approvingly. "Good. Take care on the road and don't stay out after dusk."
Aurelia could barely hide her excitement. She finished her chores faster than usual, her mind already racing ahead to what she'd tell Malion.
When the sun began to tilt westward, she slipped away to their usual meeting spot near the river's edge—a quiet place surrounded by willows and wildflowers, where the wind always carried a hush of secrets.
Malion was already there—or rather, he appeared to be, standing still in the shade, his eyes watching the slow movement of water.
She smiled, walking up to him. "You're early today."
He turned, and his lips curved faintly. "And you seem brighter than usual."
Aurelia laughed softly. "Maybe because I'm going to your town."
That caught his attention. "My town?" he repeated, brows lifting.
"Yes! Mother asked me to go to Dewshake to get cotton. You once said that's where you're from, didn't you?"
Malion's smile froze for the briefest moment. He had, indeed, told her that—days ago, when he first met her. Back then, he hadn't thought much of it. Just a harmless lie to cover his tracks.
Now, she was going there.
And expecting him to show her his home.
For a king who ruled over the palace and marble halls, the idea of suddenly needing a house in Dewshake made his mind spin.
Aurelia's eyes sparkled with innocent excitement. "You can show me where you grew up. I'd love to see it."
He blinked once, slowly. "Ah… yes. Of course."
She tilted her head. "You sound hesitant."
Malion chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "No, no. Just… surprised. It's been a while since I've been there. Things might look different."
"I don't mind," she said warmly.
He found himself staring at her—at her ease, her open trust. For someone who had spent his life surrounded by deceit and politics, her sincerity was a kind of danger all its own.
Finally, he nodded. "Then it's settled. I'll take you there tomorrow. Meet me at the border when the sun rises."
"Really?" Her eyes widened with joy.
"Really."
They talked a while longer—about little things, laughter echoing softly between the trees—and when she finally went home, Malion remained behind, staring into the forest shadows with a troubled look.
A house, he thought grimly. I'll need to make one appear by dawn.
The next morning came draped in the cool hush of early light.
Aurelia stood near the border path, her basket held close, excitement flickering in her chest. Birds fluttered between branches, and the air smelled faintly of pine and dew.
But Malion wasn't there yet.
Minutes turned to nearly an hour, and she began to fidget, glancing toward the forest.
Was he not coming?
Just as she turned to leave, she heard soft footsteps on gravel.
He appeared—hair slightly ruffled, cloak hanging unevenly, and something faintly wild in his expression.
"You're late," she said, though her voice held more relief than anger.
He smiled, brushing his hair back. "I know. I slept late in the forest."
Aurelia blinked. "In the forest? Again?"
He shrugged casually. "It's peaceful there."
She frowned a little. "You look like you didn't sleep much."
His smile turned faintly teasing. "Worried about me already?"
Her cheeks warmed. "No! I just… you look tired, that's all."
He laughed—a low, rich sound that made something flutter in her chest.
"Come on," he said. "Let's not waste the morning. Dewshake is a long walk."
They began down the winding road that cut between fields and hills. The sun climbed higher, painting everything in gold.
Malion walked beside her in silence for a while, occasionally stealing glances when she wasn't looking.
She didn't know how strange she made him feel—this mortal girl who spoke to him like he wasn't a king, who didn't fear him or bow or tremble.
After a while, Aurelia slowed, rubbing her ankle. "Maybe we can rest for a bit?"
He nodded quickly. "Of course."
They found a patch of grass beneath a tall oak, and he gathered leaves into a small mat before she could sit on the dirt.
She smiled. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," he said simply.
She looked at him then—really looked—and noticed the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his hands looked strong yet restless.
"You really don't sleep well, do you?" she asked softly.
He turned his head away, as if the sunlight burned. "Not often."
Something in his tone silenced her questions.
After a short rest, they resumed the walk. And soon enough, the stone walls and thatched roofs of Dewshake Town appeared on the horizon.
Aurelia's eyes lit up. "It's beautiful!"
It wasn't exactly beautiful—crowded, noisy, with people shouting prices and wagons rumbling over cobblestones—but to her, it was life in motion.
She hurried ahead, marveling at the stalls filled with fabric, spices, and trinkets.
Malion followed behind, watching her with quiet amusement.
"So," she said after a moment, turning to him, "where's your home?"
His mind blanked.
"My… home?" he repeated.
"Yes. You said you'd show me."
He rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the street quickly. "Ah, yes. It's… near the east market. I'll take you later. But first, you should get your cotton."
She nodded eagerly and darted toward a stall draped with rolls of fabric.
Malion exhaled quietly. East market. Fine.
As she haggled cheerfully with the vendor, Malion lingered a few steps away, watching her smile—soft, earnest, untouched by the chaos that ruled his world.
Then she froze.
Her eyes widened, and a delighted gasp escaped her lips.
"Rowan?" she called suddenly.
Malion turned sharply.
A young man was crossing the street, tall and broad-shouldered, with tousled brown hair and the easy confidence of someone used to admiration.
He stopped, surprise flashing across his face before breaking into a grin. "Aurelia?"
Aurelia's entire face brightened. "It is you!"
She ran toward him before Malion could say a word.
Rowan caught her hands warmly, laughing. "It's been ages! I thought I wouldn't see you again."
"No, just… busy," she said, laughing too.
Malion's jaw tightened slightly as he watched from a distance.
Who is he?
Rowan's eyes flicked to Malion briefly, then back to Aurelia. "Is that your friend?"
"Yes," Aurelia said, glancing back. "That's Malion. He helped me get here."
Malion inclined his head politely, though something dark flickered behind his eyes.
Rowan extended a friendly hand. "Good to meet you, Malion."
Malion took it—his grip just a little too firm. "Likewise."
The air between them shifted, invisible but tense.
Aurelia didn't notice. She was already talking to Rowan, laughing easily.
Malion, however, noticed everything—the way she leaned close, the light in her eyes, the warmth in her voice.
He didn't like it.
Not one bit.
Something twisted deep inside him, sharp and unfamiliar. He couldn't decide if it was anger or… something far more dangerous.
Rowan glanced at Aurelia fondly. "You should come by my shop later. I've just opened one near the square. I could show you around."
"That sounds wonderful!" she said.
Before Malion could speak, Rowan added, "You're welcome too, of course."
Malion's smile didn't reach his eyes. "How generous of you."
Aurelia looked between them, a bit confused by the sudden chill in the air.
"I'd like that," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "We'll stop by after we finish here."
But as she turned back to the fabric stall, she didn't notice the look Malion gave Rowan—cold, assessing, almost predatory.
Nor did she see the faint smile that curved Rowan's lips, as if he had no idea whom he was truly standing before.
Aurelia's laughter carried through the crowd, bright and easy.
Malion's hand flexed at his side.
For the first time since he met her, the mad king felt the sting of jealousy—raw and unwelcome, crawling under his skin like wildfire.
And he knew, without understanding why, that Dewshake would never be the same again.