The garden was quiet that morning.
Too quiet.
The usual rustle of gossip and perfume among the ladies of court had dulled to a lull, as though the roses themselves were listening.
I had excused myself early from tea. Serina remained behind, ever the charming younger sister.
I wanted silence.
Instead, I found her voice.
---
I turned the corner of the lower rose path—and froze.
She didn't see me. Not yet.
She was standing beneath the stone arbor, framed in sunlight. Pale pink ribbons at her wrists, a fan held delicately in one hand.
And in front of her, ever so still—
Cladus.
He stood with the same posture he gave to nobles and generals alike. Respectful. Watchful. Silent.
But not… guarded.
"You're always near her," Serina said softly, as though confiding in him. "Even when no one else is."
He said nothing.
"That's… admirable," she continued. "But dangerous."
My jaw tightened.
"My sister's changed," Serina went on. "She's clever now. Harder. Sometimes I worry she's trying to prove something."
Still, he said nothing.
"She never used to play these games," Serina added, eyes lowering. "I don't want her to hurt herself. Or others."
She reached out, barely touching his sleeve.
"You're brave to stand so close to her, Sir Cladus. I just hope she doesn't pull you down with her."
---
I stepped forward, heels deliberately scuffing the path.
Serina turned, blinking in gentle surprise.
"Sister—! I didn't hear you approach."
"Clearly," I said, smiling thinly. "What a coincidence. I was just looking for Sir Cladus."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "We were simply chatting."
"I heard," I said. "It's kind of you to worry about me."
She smiled, bowing her head. "Always."
I turned to Cladus. "Shall we walk?"
He nodded silently, stepping beside me.
I didn't look back.
---
We walked until the whispers faded behind us.
Until the roses turned from pink to deep crimson.
Then I asked, calmly—
"Do you believe her?"
Cladus didn't answer immediately.
Then:
"I believe she wants to be seen as fragile. And you as cruel."
"And what do you see?"
He glanced at me.
"I see someone who's playing to survive."
"You've known me for… two weeks."
"I don't need longer."
---
I turned away quickly, hiding the way my chest tightened.
He didn't flatter.
He didn't question.
He just watched. Waited. Walked beside me like he knew.
"You should know," I said quietly, "in another life, you were loyal to me."
"Am I not loyal now?"
"You were punished for it."
He stopped.
"Then let them try."
---
I turned to him then.
And for the first time in two lives—
I smiled.
Not for court. Not for pretense.
Just for him.