The next morning, in the Sitri manor's quiet drawing room, Lord and Lady Sitri sat across from Serafall. Both parents were dignified in their composure, yet the faint tension in their eyes betrayed concern.
"You're saying," Lord Sitri began slowly, his fingers steepled, "that young Riser… deliberately endangered himself to create a protection charm for Sona?"
Serafall placed the feather charm carefully on the table between them. Its faint glow pulsed like a heartbeat, filling the room with warmth. "Not just endangered, Papa. He poured everything into this. His flame, his will, even something deeper—I could feel the toll on him when I touched it."
Lady Sitri leaned forward, touching the charm with careful fingers. Her breath hitched. "This aura… it isn't merely Phenex flame. It carries his very essence. If it were destroyed, I daresay it would wound him just as deeply."
Lord Sitri's brows furrowed, shock finally piercing his calm mask. "For him to do such a thing… for Sona, no less. That boy was always known as arrogant, reckless. But this…"
"This," Serafall finished, a rare seriousness in her voice, "is devotion. Clumsy, stupid, dangerous devotion—but devotion nonetheless."
The room fell silent, the weight of it heavy. Lady Sitri's gaze softened. "Perhaps… Riser Phenex truly does see our daughter not as a trophy, but as a partner."
Serafall smiled faintly, a rare gentleness in her eyes. "I still think he's a reckless idiot. But for the first time… I think he might just be her idiot."
Later that day, Sona sat in the manor's garden, the necklace he had given her resting coolly against her skin, the feather charm warm in her palm. She had worn them both, unable to bring herself to set either aside.
The logical part of her mind kept whispering warnings—about politics, about appearances, about recklessness. Yet her heart was louder today.
He meant every word. He risked himself for me.
She felt foolish, even childish, but she pulled out a small notepad from her pocket. After several false starts and crossed-out lines, she finally wrote a single neat sentence.
"Thank you. For the necklace. And for the charm. I… treasure them."
Her hand lingered over the page. After a pause, she added a second line, smaller, harder for her to write.
"Please take care of yourself… for my sake."
The admission made her cheeks burn. She folded the note quickly, sealing it with her magic crest before she lost the courage.
When Riser next visited, she greeted him in the garden instead of her office. Her voice was calm, as always, but her hand trembled slightly as she extended the envelope toward him.
"This is for you," she said, refusing to meet his eyes.
Riser, curious, opened it immediately. His smirk softened into something gentler as he read her words. For once, he didn't tease her. He simply looked at her, his molten-gold eyes uncharacteristically tender.
Sona, flustered by the silence, turned away. "D-Don't misunderstand. It's simply proper to express gratitude."
But when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles softly, she didn't pull away. Her mask cracked—just slightly—as the warmth of his lips lingered.
And for the first time, Sona Sitri thought that perhaps… she didn't mind being "his woman."