The days blurred into each other after Kael's return.
He was different now—still sharp, still cautious—but softer with her. He lingered longer in the cabin, repaired the broken shutters, made tea in silence. He never said the word love, but it was in the way he touched her shoulder in passing, in the way he always made sure she had the warmer blanket.
Lina noticed every small thing.
The way he'd watch her when she read aloud by the fire, though he pretended not to. How his voice dropped when he said her name, like it wasn't a sound he deserved to say but never wanted to stop.
One night, the wind howled through the trees. Lina sat cross-legged on the floor, Kael nearby, sharpening a blade with slow precision.
"What will you do when this ends?" she asked, breaking the silence.
He didn't look up. "It doesn't end. Not really."
"I mean after Ryken. After this fight."
Kael hesitated, the rasp of the blade falling silent. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
"You should," she said. "Because… I'm not going anywhere."
This time he did look at her. His eyes were searching again, like he couldn't decide if she was serious—or if he even deserved to hope she was.
"You still don't understand what being with me means," he said, voice low. "This world doesn't offer peace to men like me."
"It does if you stop running from it," she said gently. "Kael… I don't want the perfect man. I want you. The broken, growling, impossible you. The one who stands in front of me when danger comes. The one who listens to me breathe when I sleep."
He blinked like the words hurt.
"I know you don't trust words," she added. "So don't trust mine. Trust this."
She stood and crossed to him, slow and sure, then knelt beside him. Her hand reached out, not to pull him close—but to offer.
He didn't take it at first.
But then, slowly, his fingers slipped between hers.
Their hands rested on his thigh, still and warm.
Kael closed his eyes, jaw tight.
"I haven't let anyone touch me like this in years," he said, barely above a whisper. "Not like they meant it."
"I do," she replied. "I mean it."
He opened his eyes, and something inside them finally gave way—like frost melting after the longest winter.
Then, quietly, Kael leaned forward. Not a kiss, not yet. Just his forehead resting gently against hers.
No words.
Just breath.
Just them.
And outside, far beyond the forest, the storm gathered.
But in that moment, inside the cabin, there was only warmth—and the beginning of something sacred.