Chapter 29

As she moved toward the edge of the camp, the cool evening air wrapped around her like a cloak. The forest whispered ancient secrets, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. Rhaine's fingers brushed against her satchel, feeling the reassuring weight of the Lunacrest essence inside. Her thoughts drifted back to the letter from Elder Mirriam.

Lost in thought, she knelt by a patch of wild herbs, carefully selecting the ones she recognized for their healing properties. The rhythmic sounds of the soldiers faded into the background as a strange sense of calm washed over her.

But that calm was short-lived.

A sudden rustle behind her made her freeze. Her instincts sharpened, and she stood slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows. The forest, once tranquil, now felt alive with unseen eyes.

"Saintess," Kaelion's voice called from behind, startling her.

She turned sharply, relief flooding through her chest as she saw his towering figure approach. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, eyes alert. "I told you not to wander too far."

"I was just gathering herbs," she said, trying to steady her voice.

His gaze flickered to the basket in her hands before returning to her face. "The forest isn't safe at night."

"I know. L just—" she started, but he cut her off.

"You're with me now. Let's head back." His tone left no room for argument.

As they walked side by side, the tension between them crackled like a storm waiting to break. Rhaine stole a glance at Kaelion, his profile sharp and unwavering. There was something about him—something she couldn't quite place.

Back at the camp, the fires burned brighter against the encroaching darkness. Soldiers sat in clusters, sharing stories and laughter. But Rhaine's thoughts remained heavy.

Kaelion's voice broke through her reverie. "You're hiding something."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"

"That purple vial... it's not just nothing, is it?"

Rhaine's fingers tightened around the satchel strap. "It's none of your concern." She then weakly smiled.

Kaelion's gaze darkened, but he didn't press further and left.

One day.

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the darkening forest. Smoke curled upward into the evening sky, carrying with it the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat. Kaelion returned to the fire, a skinned rabbit hanging from his hand, its flesh pale and fresh from the hunt. He moved with practiced ease, his armor gleaming faintly under the faint light.

As he crouched down to begin roasting the meat over the fire, Rhaine tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "You can cook?" she asked, disbelief lacing her tone.

Kaelion let out a faint chuckle, the sound rough yet warm. "Had to learn," he admitted, rotating the skewer over the flames. "Didn't have much growing up. Sometimes I'd go days without food."

The casual tone of his words made her heart clench. He said it as though hunger were a familiar companion rather than a tragedy.

Rhaine's gaze softened. "What about your parents?" she ventured gently, sensing there was more beneath his stoic exterior.

Kaelion's face grew distant, his voice quieter. "They tried their best to make my childhood memorable, even when there wasn't much." His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought.

"What happened to them?" she asked softly, hesitant to pry but unable to stop herself.

He turned the rabbit over the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his dark eyes. "My father was killed in battle," he said grimly. "He was a brave man."

There was a beat of silence before his voice faltered, rough with emotion. "My mother... she got sick. Very sick. I couldn't afford to send her to a healer. After my father was gone, I tried everything I could—herbal remedies, anything the villagers could spare—but it wasn't enough." He swallowed hard. "She passed quietly in her sleep one night."

Rhaine's throat tightened painfully. What could she say? Sorry? Words felt useless in the face of such grief. There was a rawness to his confession that chipped away at her resolve, revealing a vulnerable side of Kaelion she hadn't seen before.

Why did it hurt to see him like this? Her chest ached with an unfamiliar sensation. Was the elixir she'd taken before—the one meant to shield her from emotional attachments—losing its effect?

Without thinking, she moved closer, her hand hesitating briefly before resting gently on his shoulder. His body was warm beneath her touch, tense but solid. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity.

Kaelion remained silent, his jaw tight as he fought to maintain composure.

"I lost my mother too," she admitted, the words slipping past her lips unbidden.

His gaze shifted to her, sharp yet gentle. The intensity of it made her falter, but she pressed on. "She was everything to me. We were happy... for a time." Her voice cracked as memories surfaced, raw and jagged. "When I was around ten, Elder Mirriam told me she'd been attacked... and killed."

The weight of those words pressed heavily on her chest. "I didn't even get to mourn her," she continued, bitterness creeping into her tone. "Elder Mirriam immediately took me in and trained me to be the next Saintess. That was it. My childhood was gone overnight."

A single tear traced its way down her cheek, shimmering in the firelight. She tried to brush it away, but before she could, Kaelion's hand was there, rough yet gentle as he caught the tear with his thumb.

"I'm here for you now," he said softly, his voice low but resolute.

Rhaine blinked, stunned by the raw sincerity in his tone. "Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why do you care so much about me, even after everything?"

Kaelion's expression darkened with emotion. "Because I adore you," he confessed, his voice unwavering. "And now I'm certain of something else—I love you."