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Lysara exhaled sharply as she placed Aurelia gently onto the bed. Her muscles ached from the strain of teleporting nonstop through the kingdom's vast distances, her breath labored from the effort of ensuring they had not been followed. Her mind was a whirlwind of exhaustion and frustration, but more than anything, a deep unease settled in her chest.

She straightened, brushing her damp silver hair from her face, her icy blue eyes scanning Aurelia's pale features. The princess lay still, her breathing even, her golden lashes fanned out against her fair skin. The remnants of dried blood from the night's horrors had long since been wiped away, yet Lysara could still see the faint remnants of fear etched into Aurelia's unconscious expression.

She turned as the door creaked open. Her most trusted maid entered quietly, carrying a set of fresh clothes. The woman said nothing, merely offering a knowing glance before setting the garments on the table and leaving just as silently. Lysara wasted no time, swapping Aurelia's ruined attire for something soft and clean. She worked quickly but gently, careful not to wake her. Once finished, she let out a quiet sigh, giving the sleeping woman one last look.

Her fingers hesitated over Aurelia's wrist before she pulled away. She had healed any wounds the princess had sustained, yet an invisible one remained—the one carved deep into her mind.

Lysara left without another word, closing the door behind her and disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

The moment she entered her own chambers, she paced restlessly, her mind racing. The attack had been too sloppy for it to have been an assassination attempt from any noble house. The thugs had fought without form, their swordsmanship crude, their movements uncoordinated. No, these weren't trained killers.

Her fists clenched.

Common bandits. The same filth that plagued the lower city, terrorizing merchants and travelers alike. They must have seen their carriage pass through earlier and set a trap, hoping for a rich ransom or worse. Had she not been there…

Lysara's teeth ground together, her jaw tightening.

She had never been more aware of the power she possessed—the power that had kept them both alive. And yet, despite that, despite the fact that she had saved Aurelia, that haunted look in her eyes…

Lysara exhaled slowly, forcing herself to push the memory away. Tomorrow would come soon enough. And she dreaded it.

The morning light crept through the heavy curtains of Aurelia's chambers, illuminating the room in a soft golden hue. The warmth of the sun did little to ease the chill that settled deep in her bones as she stirred awake.

For a brief moment, everything felt normal.

Then, the memories hit her like a crashing wave.

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as the images replayed in her mind: Lysara, her blade soaked in blood, her cold, unfeeling gaze as she cut down every last one of them. The wet, sticky warmth of the thug's blood splattered across her skin, the sickening squelch of his imploding body—the screams, the horror—

Aurelia shot up, her stomach lurching violently. She barely made it to the side of her bed before she collapsed to her knees, clutching the edge of the nearby basin as she heaved, her entire body trembling.

She coughed, her hands gripping the cool porcelain tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut.

It wasn't the violence that sickened her—it was the fact that it had been Lysara. That the same woman who had held her in the water the day before, who had brought her on a beautiful outing, who had smiled at her—was capable of such… brutality.

Her fingers dug into the rim of the basin, her breathing shaky as she tried to steady herself. The lingering scent of fresh sheets, the soft embrace of her bed—they all felt suffocating now. How had she gotten here? She didn't remember walking back.

Had Lysara… carried her?

A knock at the door startled her.

"Princess?" A gentle voice called. It was her maid.

Aurelia hesitated before clearing her throat. "Come in."

The maid entered, her face immediately filling with concern as she saw the state Aurelia was in. Without a word, she rushed to her side, offering her a cool cloth, which Aurelia gratefully accepted, pressing it to her forehead.

"My lady… you look pale."

"I'm fine," Aurelia lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her maid frowned but said nothing. Instead, she helped Aurelia to her feet, guiding her toward the bath chamber. The princess moved mechanically, allowing herself to be stripped of her nightclothes and lowered into the warm water. The heat soothed her shivering limbs, but it did little to quiet her racing thoughts.

Lysara's expression from the night before wouldn't leave her mind.

Those cold, calculating eyes—so different from the ones that had admired the scenery with her just hours before.

Who was Lysara, truly?

As her maid gently rinsed her hair, Aurelia let out a slow, shuddering breath, closing her eyes. She didn't know if she was more afraid of the answer… or of the fact that, despite everything, she still wanted to see her again. For answers or whatever the reason was.