The days passed like quiet echoes, soft and slow in the stone halls of House Ardent. But in Jane's world—her secret world that only John was allowed into—time began to stir differently.
Since the night of her awakening, something had changed. Not just in her. In him, too.
He didn't keep his distance anymore.
Sometimes, when she sat by the window with a book, he'd bring her tea—not because she asked, but because he noticed. He didn't say much, but his presence was steady, like a wall she hadn't known she needed until it was already there.
They began to speak more, too. Quiet conversations in the morning, lingering talks after sunset. She asked him about the outside world—about cities and markets and rain on stone streets. And he answered, sometimes slowly, sometimes with small smirks that he quickly hid.
Once, she caught him staring at her hands as she practiced controlling the faint violet flickers of her flame. He didn't flinch, even when her power sparked uncontrolled. He simply said, "Again," and stood by, ready.
And each time he stayed, something inside her softened.
—
One afternoon, after a spring rain had passed, Jane sat barefoot on the stone balcony that overlooked the northern garden. The sky was still gray, but the wind was warmer now, carrying the scent of wet earth and budding roses.
John stood a few steps behind her, silent as ever.
She turned. "You don't have to stand guard all the time, you know."
"I know," he said.
She tilted her head. "Then why are you here?"
A pause. His gaze drifted past her, toward the garden. "Because you're alone."
The words shouldn't have meant anything. But they did.
She looked at him for a long moment. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
"I already told you," he said, stepping closer, "I've seen worse."
Jane let out a soft laugh. "That's not a real answer."
John knelt beside her. "No, I'm not afraid of you."
"Even if I lose control again?"
"You won't."
"And if I do?"
He met her eyes. "Then I'll stop you. Or I'll burn with you."
The wind stilled.
Jane's breath caught in her throat. Her heart thudded once—too loud, too fast.
It wasn't a romantic sentence. It wasn't sweet. But something in the way he said it—the certainty, the quiet promise—it made her feel something she hadn't felt in years.
Safe.
—
That night, Jane couldn't sleep.
She paced in her room, barefoot on the cold floor, her thoughts tangled like threads she couldn't unravel.
He said he'd burn with her.
What did that mean? Why did it feel like more than just duty?
Was it foolish to want more from him?
She stopped by the mirror, staring at herself. Her dark hair loose over her shoulders, her skin pale against her nightgown, her eyes haunted by violet light that had not yet left her.
"You're not a child," she whispered to her reflection. "If you want something, take it."
—
The next evening, she invited him into her room—not as a servant, but simply as John.
They sat by the fireplace, the glow of the flames playing shadows across the walls. She poured wine for both of them, though she didn't drink much. She only watched him, curious, amused by how uncomfortable he looked out of his usual rigid posture.
"You really never smile, do you?" she teased, swirling her cup.
"I do. When no one's looking."
"Oh?" She leaned in. "And what kind of things make you smile?"
He raised a brow. "That's classified."
Jane grinned. "Coward."
He laughed, quietly.
They sat in silence for a moment. The fire crackled, the wine warmed her throat, and the glow of magic hummed faintly in her chest.
She looked at him.
He wasn't beautiful in the way noble boys were. He was sharper. Harder. But his presence… it was steady. Real. And for the first time in her life, she wanted to reach for something without asking for permission.
So she did.
She leaned in—and kissed him.
Not softly. Not shyly.
It was bold. Confident. A declaration, not a question.
He stiffened for half a second. Then his lips moved with hers, slow and unsure, but he didn't pull away.
When she finally drew back, her cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment, but something else. Her eyes searched his, daring him to speak.
John's voice was low. "You… shouldn't have done that."
Jane tilted her head. "Why not?"
"Because I work for your family. Because this can't mean anything."
She studied him. "It means something to me."
"That's dangerous."
"I'm dangerous."
He didn't argue.
The kiss still lingered—brief but real. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It wasn't a trick, wasn't a test. It was honest. Unmistakably honest.
He stared at Jane as if seeing her for the first time—not as the strange, gifted noble girl he'd been assigned to serve, but as someone warm, vivid, and achingly human.
Jane stepped back from the window, her hands folded behind her as if uncertain. The fading light of dusk framed her like a memory—soft, distant, impossible to forget.
"Stay," she whispered.
John looked up. "Milady?"
"Don't call me that," she said quietly. "Not tonight."
The wind stirred the curtains, casting long, trembling shadows across the floor.
"I don't want to sleep alone," she continued, her voice stripped of all its usual sharpness. "Not because I'm scared. Not because I'm lonely. But because… I feel safe when you're here."
He hesitated. She could see the hesitation in his eyes—the weight of duty, the fear of lines crossed.
Jane took a step forward and gently touched his arm.
"You can sleep on the couch if it helps you sleep better with your honor intact," she said with a small smile. "But I'd rather you stayed close."
John took a slow breath. Then, finally, he nodded.
"All right," he said softly. "Just for tonight."
Jane didn't hide her smile. She turned, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers up to her waist. The soft glow from the wall lantern cast a golden halo around her face.
John sat on the edge of the couch across the room, silent.
The minutes passed in a gentle stillness, filled only by the sound of the wind brushing the windowpanes.
"John," Jane murmured in the quiet, "do you think I'm strange?"
"No," he answered without hesitation.
"Even after the things you've seen? The things I've done?"
"Especially after that," he said. "You're the bravest person I've ever met."
She closed her eyes at his words, letting the silence return.