Chapter 7 Keira
KEIRA
The morning light filters through Amisra's window while I braid her hair, silver strands slipping through my fingers like moonlight made tangible.
She's chattering about the flower she found yesterday, something about how it smelled like honey and sunshine, and I'm only half-listening because my mind keeps wandering to leather gloves that fit my hands perfectly.
I'd tried to give them back this morning.
Left them folded neatly on the table in the sitting room where Valas would find them.
Cowardly, maybe, but safer than facing him directly.
Than admitting how the memory of his fingers brushing my palm keeps replaying in my head at the most inconvenient moments.
The gloves were back in my room an hour later with a note written in elegant script: You'll need these again. Keep them. —V
I'd stared at that note for longer than reasonable. Traced the curves of his handwriting with my eyes and told myself the warmth in my chest was just gratitude. Nothing more complicated than appreciation for a kind gesture.
I'm an excellent liar, but apparently only to other people. Not to myself.
"Keira, you're pulling too tight." Amisra squirms under my hands.
"Sorry, Ami." I loosen my grip, focusing on the task instead of thoughts that have no business occupying space in my head. "Almost done."
"Is Uncle Val coming today?" She asks it casually, like the answer doesn't matter, but I can hear the hope underneath.
"I don't know." My fingers work through the final section of the braid. "He usually visits in the afternoon."
"I hope he comes soon. I want to show him my flower."
"I'm sure he'll be very impressed." I tie off the braid with a ribbon, smoothing down any flyaways. "There. All finished."
She hops off the chair, spinning to make her skirt flare. The movement is so purely joyful it makes my chest ache. This little girl deserves better than watching her father fade away. Deserves a childhood full of spinning and flowers and uncomplicated happiness.
"Can we have breakfast outside?" She's already moving toward the door. "It's sunny and Papa says sunny days are special."
"Let me check with your father first." I follow her out, catching her hand before she can barrel down the hallway. "Walk, Ami. You know the rules."
She slows fractionally, though her enthusiasm remains undimmed. We find Daryn in his study, bent over correspondence he's probably too tired to actually read. But he looks up when we enter, and the smile he offers is genuine despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
"There's my little bird." He opens his arms and Amisra rushes to him, careful now in a way that breaks my heart. Aware, on some level, that her father is fragile. "Did Keira make you beautiful this morning?"
"She braided my hair." Amisra touches the plait self-consciously. "Can we eat breakfast outside? Please?"
"I think that's a wonderful idea." But he's looking at me when he says it, something knowing in his expression that makes me uneasy. "The gardens should be lovely this morning."
So we arrange breakfast in the garden, carrying out plates and cups while Amisra dances ahead of us, narrating an elaborate story about flower princesses.
The day is beautiful—autumn sunshine filtering through leaves just beginning to turn, cool air that doesn't quite bite yet.
The kind of weather that won't last, that makes you appreciate it more for its impermanence.
We're halfway through breakfast, Amisra explaining the flower princess hierarchy in excruciating detail, when footsteps crunch on gravel behind us.
I know who it is before I turn around. Know from the way my pulse jumps, how awareness prickles across my skin. Valas, because of course it's Valas, appears around the garden path looking unfairly elegant in simple dark robes that catch the light like oil on water.
"Uncle Val!" Amisra abandons her breakfast immediately, launching herself at him.
He catches her smoothly, swinging her up with an ease that suggests strength hidden beneath scholar's robes. "Good morning, little bird. I hope you saved some breakfast for me."
"You can have mine." She's already wiggling to be put down. "I want to show you my flower."
"In a moment." He sets her carefully back on the ground, then looks at Daryn. His expression shifts, something careful sliding into place. "You're looking better today."
"I feel better." Daryn gestures to the spread of food, the sunshine, the picture of domestic peace we've created. "Which is why I insisted on taking advantage of the weather. Join us?"
It's not really a question despite the phrasing. Valas knows it too—I can see the acceptance in how his shoulders relax slightly, how he settles onto the blanket we've spread across the grass. Near Daryn but leaving space, not crowding.
Not near me, I tell myself firmly. Not sitting close to me on purpose.
Except Amisra has other ideas.
"Keira, sit here." She pats the space between herself and Valas with the authority only a four-year-old can summon. "Then you can be in the middle and share with everyone."
"I'm fine where I am." I'm sitting at the edge of the blanket, safely distant from violet eyes and dangerous proximity.
"Please?" She deploys the most potent weapon in her arsenal—wide lavender eyes and a trembling lower lip. "I want you to sit by me."
Daryn is watching this exchange with poorly hidden amusement. Valas is fighting a smile, I can see it in how the corners of his mouth twitch. And I realize, with a sinking sensation in my stomach, that I'm being maneuvered.
"Alright." I give in because arguing with Amisra is pointless and because refusing makes this a bigger deal than it should be. "But only if you promise to actually eat instead of just feeding the birds."
"I promise!" She's already making room, scooting closer to her father to create space.
I move across the blanket, settling into the spot she's cleared with probably more attention to posture than necessary. Sitting straight, hands folded in my lap, maintaining careful distance from the dark elf now occupying my peripheral vision.
Except the blanket isn't as large as I thought. And Valas doesn't move away when I sit down. Just stays exactly where he is, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that when he shifts slightly our knees brush.
The contact is brief. Probably accidental. Definitely not something I should be thinking about as heat floods through me from that single point of contact.
"Try the pastries," Daryn says, drawing my attention mercifully away from knee-related revelations. "The kitchen outdid themselves this morning."
I reach for a pastry, needing something to do with my hands. The flaky layers dissolve on my tongue, sweet and buttery, though I barely taste it. Too aware of how Valas is reaching for the same platter, how his hand brushes past mine in the process.
"Sorry." His voice is low, meant just for me.
"It's fine." I don't look at him. Can't, really, not without giving away how very not fine this is. How every nerve ending seems suddenly attuned to his presence.
Amisra saves me by demanding Valas's attention, pulling him into a conversation about whether flower princesses would have magic powers. He engages with her completely, asking questions that make her think, offering suggestions that send her into delighted spirals of imagination.
I watch him with her, see how gentle he is. How patient. The way he listens like her words matter, like her elaborate fantasies deserve serious consideration. And something in my chest twists, softening in ways I can't afford.
This is dangerous. Not the proximity or the accidental touches, but this. Seeing him as more than just polite. More than just kind to someone in his friend's employ. Seeing him as someone who would be good at loving. At caring for the people in his life with dedication and warmth.
"Keira thinks flower princesses would have earth magic," Amisra announces suddenly, pulling me back to the conversation. "Right, Keira?"
"I—" I blink, scrambling for context. "Sure. Earth magic makes sense."
"See?" Amisra looks triumphantly at Valas. "She agrees with me."
"Then it must be true." His eyes meet mine over Amisra's head, something warm and amused in their violet depths. "Keira is clearly an expert on magical flowers."
"I wouldn't say expert." The words come out more defensive than intended.
"No?" He tilts his head slightly, studying me with interest that makes my skin prickle. "What would you say, then?"
"That I'm making things up to keep a four-year-old happy." But I'm almost smiling despite myself.
"A noble pursuit." His knee brushes mine again as he shifts, and this time I'm certain it's deliberate. Testing. Seeing if I'll move away.
I don't. Can't seem to make my body cooperate with what my mind insists is the sensible choice.
Amisra abandons us then, hopping up to investigate something in the garden—a butterfly or bird, some small moving thing that captures her attention completely. She drags Daryn with her, his indulgent laughter trailing behind them as they move away from the blanket.
Leaving Valas and me sitting together in sunshine, knees still touching, the space between us somehow both too much and not enough.
"She's doing well," Valas says quietly, watching Daryn crouch down to examine whatever Amisra has found. "Today, I mean. And he's having a good day."
"I know." I follow his gaze, seeing how Daryn smiles, how he points at something that makes Amisra squeal with delight. Treasuring this moment because there won't be enough of them. "He was up early. Had energy for breakfast instead of just tea."
"The good days are getting rarer." Valas doesn't look away from his friend. "I hate that. Hate knowing each one might be the last."