After the Fire, the Silence
The next morning, the sky was overcast.
Gray like waiting.
Like it knew something had shifted and didn't want to draw attention to it.
Good. Neither did I.
---
Gareth didn't ask questions when I returned last night. He just looked at me — once — and nodded like a man who knows when not to speak.
He didn't know about the kiss.
But he knew something had happened.
Something soft. And dangerous.
---
I stood at the window, staring out at the garden. The same garden where it happened. Where he had looked at me not like a prince… but like a man.
And now?
Now I felt it sitting beneath my skin like the echo of a note no one else could hear.
> His kiss hadn't taken anything from me.
> It had left something behind.
---
A knock.
Soft. Measured.
I didn't need to ask who it was.
Thorian stepped in — no crown, no armor, just a dark coat and a look he hadn't worn before: uncertainty.
He nodded once. "Lady Milena."
I raised an eyebrow. "Prince Thorian."
Polite. Formal. Controlled.
We both knew it was a lie.
---
"I came to discuss the investigation," he said.
Of course he did.
We were back to business.
Back to safety.
But the way his eyes lingered — not on my lips, not even my face — but my presence…
> That was not business.
That was memory.
---
We talked. Briefly. Clearly. Carefully.
And when he turned to leave, I spoke before I could stop myself.
> "You shouldn't kiss someone like that and expect nothing to change."
He froze.
But didn't turn around.
> "I know," he said.
And then he left.
---