44. Adelina #2
Why does that make my heart flutter? Perhaps because he does not ask why I need it. Perhaps because he says may without making the permission feel like charity. Or perhaps because, after the voices below called me managed and in hand, I need to carry one thing that is mine.
We walk through the private corridor in silence. Two guards follow at a distance, and Kaedryn’s shadows drift ahead of us in thin, restless lines that slip along the floor and under doorways before withdrawing again. They are watching. Testing. Guarding.
The garden opens in sunlight. It looks different than it did with Queen Elowyn.
It’s brighter now, the lake below flashing blue between terrace rails, the silver leaves overhead turning their pale undersides to the wind.
A small table has been set near the sheltered bed, shaded by a vine-covered arch.
Tea waits beneath a warming charm. There is bread, fruit, cheese, broth in a covered cup, and tiny honey cakes dusted with ground starflower.
Kaedryn gestures toward the chair that faces the garden rather than the castle. He pulls it out and waits before I sit, and he pushes the chair in.
He sits across from me instead of beside me, leaving space between us and an easy path away from the table.
For a while, we eat in a peaceful silence.
I manage half a pear, a few pieces of bread, and several sips of broth because he’s there and because Maelin has started counting things. Kaedryn notices every bite.
When I set the broth down, he says, “Is something the matter? You seemed…troubled when I came in.”
My hand stills. I should deny it. I should say I’m fine, say nothing important happened.
The old answers line up obediently behind my lips.
But the garden is warm. My satchel rests against my chair.
The ashes of the message are lost in the hearth behind me.
And the words I overheard earlier still sting.
I look toward the ice orchid bed instead of his face. “I overheard some ladies speaking below my balcony.”
His stillness changes. “About you?”
I nod.
“What did they say?” His brow furrows.
My fingers curl around the edge of my napkin. “It was nothing. I shouldn’t let words bother me.”
“Adelina.” My name carries no sharp edge this time. “Please tell me.”
I breathe in slowly. “They said I was quieter than expected. That after Maralis, they expected fire.”
His jaw hardens.
I keep going before I lose courage. “They said I seemed well managed.”
The shadows beneath the table darken. I glance at them.
Kaedryn notices and pulls them back with visible effort. “What else?”
I should stop. I continue anyway, though my voice barely rises above the garden water. “That you seemed to have me in hand.”
Silence.
Kaedryn looks away first, toward the lower terraces, and the line of his jaw goes hard enough to seem carved. I fear I have angered him. Then I realize the anger has turned elsewhere.
Still, it fills the space. “I will find out who said it.”
Panic flickers hot through me. “Please don’t!”
His head whips back to me. I lower mine instantly. Then force myself to lift it again because I’m trying, and because Queen Elowyn said silence is only one shield among many.
“If you punish them, it will confirm it.”
His expression shifts. The words hang between us. I have spoken too boldly and directly.
But Kaedryn does not rebuke me. He only leans back, shadows stirring near his boots like living things held on a leash. “You’re right.”
I blink.
He looks irritated by the fact that he has to say it, which makes the admission feel more honest. “You’re right,” he repeats. “If I move too visibly, they will turn correction into proof of control.”
I stare at the tea.
Kaedryn’s voice lowers. “They were wrong.”
My throat closes. Were they? The question must show on my face because something dark moves through his eyes.
“I have not had you in hand,” he says. “I have frightened you. There’s a difference.”
The words are so blunt and honest that I don’t know what to do with them. My gaze lifts.
His expression remains severe, but it’s different. A blade held against himself instead of me.
“I did not intend to,” he says before he looks at the orchid bed. “Intent does not erase result.”
That sounds like something Maelin would say. Or Queen Elowyn. That does not sound like him, or at least the version of him I have known thus far.
The wind moves through the vines above us, scattering light across the table. For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence is strange, but easier than the one at dinner. He does not press. He does not fill it with explanation or defense. He lets it sit, uncomfortable and unclaimed.
That may be the gentlest thing he has done all afternoon.
I turn the cup slowly between my hands. “I don’t know how to be what your court expects.”
His answer comes without hesitation. “Neither does my court. They know how to expect what benefits them. You’re the princess and their future queen. You need only remind them of that.”
My lips part, then close.
A faint crease appears between his brows. “What?”
“That sounded almost comforting,” I answer.
He pauses. Then, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth moves. “Sylas would say that is a rarity with me.”
I giggle and cover my mouth. His eyes sharpen. Heat rises to my face, and I look down quickly.
He reaches for the teapot instead. “More?”
“Yes, please.”
He pours carefully, and I notice his hands. Strong hands. A warrior’s hands. The kind that can bind shadow, hold a sword, catch me before I fall, and close too tightly around my arm when fear turns him harsh. The kind now pouring tea meticulously.
Maybe I’m foolish. Maybe kindness only has to arrive in small, strange ways for me to forget it can be taken.
“I won’t go after those ladies. I want to, but I won’t. However, if I hear of someone speaking that way of you, I won’t be as kind.”
“I don’t want to cause more trouble than I already have,” I murmur.
“You’ll be my wife very soon. I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”
I nod, unable to reply.
He glances at the satchel by my chair. “You carry that often.”
My fingers still around the teacup.
“I’m not asking what is inside or taking it from you,” he adds quickly.
I breathe again.
“Only observing,” he explains.
I pause before saying, “It has things from Dravaryn. Things that I treasure.”
His face hardens at the kingdom’s name, then smooths with effort. “Things you chose to bring?”
I nod.
Then, my thoughts drift to the note.
The old root still lives.
We have continued moving.
Freya.
The question rises before I can bury it again. “Have you heard anything about Freya?”
Kaedryn pauses for the briefest moment. “We have heard pieces,” he says.
My hand fists around the cup. “Pieces?”
“Sylas has contacts looking into the people who helped you flee. Rowan has reached out through less official channels. We have reason to believe Marra and Vera may have escaped Dravaryn’s direct custody.”
My breath catches.
He watches me closely. “That’s not confirmation. But it is more than rumor.”
Marra and Vera could be free.
“And Freya?”
His expression changes. This is where kindness becomes careful. “We do not know yet,” he says.
The garden shifts around me. I set the cup down before I drop it. “But you are looking?”
“Yes.” His answer is immediate.
“Truly?”