Bonding

Lloyd paused for a moment, setting down his spoon and reaching for his glass of water.

As he took a sip, he glanced around at the group.

"You all seem to be quite worried about Zyran's wife. Have any of you stopped to consider how she might perceive this overwhelming display of insincere affection?" He then reached for a napkin to clean his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Novalie looked on anxiously as she noticed Amira shrinking under the attention she was receiving.

Just then, the king interrupted.

"Zyran, it would do you well to take your wife out and spend some quality time together. I'm sure there's a lot for both of you to catch up on," the king suggested.

"Yes, your Majesty," Zyran replied with a bow.

After finishing their breakfast, Amira and Zyran proceeded to the waiting carriage at the palace gate.

Matthew, the butler, assisted Amira into the carriage, with Zyran following closely behind. As they settled into their seats opposite each other, Zyran casually brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

Amira, feeling a mix of fear and curiosity, cautiously peered out of the window as the carriage set off toward the town, enveloped in silence.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Zyran reclining, his head against the seat.

She shifted her gaze towards him, noticing the striking sharpness of his features. His nose was elegant, his jawline razor-sharp, and his lips, thin and natural.

Lost in her observation, she was suddenly brought back to reality when Zyran eyes blinked and met her gaze, causing Amira to blush as she realized she had been caught staring.

Amira let out a frightened yelp as the carriage lurched and tilted to the side, her hand gripping tightly as she was thrown towards Zyran. In a swift and protective move, Zyran instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, securing her to the seat beside him.

Amira's breath came in short, rapid bursts as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Zyran glanced out of the window, attempting to assess the situation.

"What's happening?" he inquired.

Realizing the problem, the coachman approached the window and explained, "The carriage wheel was damaged by a rock. It needs to be replaced."

"How long will it take to get it changed?" Zyran asked a note of urgency in his voice.

"An hour at most," the man on the couch replied.

Amira straightened her gown and glanced up to find Zyran gazing at her.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"What?" Amira responded, confused.

As they made their way along the quiet roadside, Amira struggled to keep up. Unlike Zyran, who had experienced the brutality of war, Amira had been secluded in an attic for years, shielded from the outside world.

She accidentally bumped into Zyran, who had paused at a certain spot.

"We would take forever to reach the market from here," Zyran said.

"I'm sorry," Amira apologized, avoiding eye contact.

"This gown is making it difficult to walk," she mumbled.

Zyran gazed ahead, assessing the distance they still had to cover before reaching the market.

"Extending his arm, he offered it to Amira to grasp. Uncertain of what to do, she tentatively clutched a small fold of his clothing.

Zyran let out an audible sigh, revealing his frustration. He then gently positioned her hand to secure his arm before resuming their walk. Connected, they manoeuvred through the bustling streets, her brisk pace keeping up with his due to their entwined arms.

As they finally reached the market square, Amira battled against the harsh sun's relentless assault and the unwelcome bite of her shoes.

Exhaustion enveloped her, and all she longed for was the solace of shade to rest her head and a cool sip of water to soothe her parched throat.

She reflected on the plight of those less fortunate, who navigated these same streets day after day without the luxury of a carriage or the convenience of catching a local ride.

Zyran guided her to a bustling eatery where patrons were enjoying their meals at outdoor tables.

He found a seat for her and then excused himself, leaving Amira to take in the lively scene. A server approached with a menu, but she was too preoccupied to pay much attention.

Zyran returned with a satchel in hand and took a seat opposite her.

"Where did you vanish to?" she questioned, noting his striking silver hair.

Passersby couldn't help but steal glances at them, especially the women who were captivated by Zyran's beauty, and the onlookers who found his silver hair quite peculiar.

Amira was curious about his hair but decided not to bring it up.

His eyebrow arched in response to her query before he spoke.

"Is your wife's instinct kicking in?"

She averted her gaze, shaking her head timidly, not wanting to seem intrusive.