[Lavinia’s POV —The Next Morning]
Sunlight spilled through my chamber windows in soft gold ribbons.
Warm. Quiet. Peaceful.
A rare morning.
I stretched, rubbing my eyes—only for the memory of last night to hit me full force.
Haldor. Midnight. Strawberry cake. And him lifting me off the ground like I weighed one feather and zero dignity.
I groaned, covering my face with both hands. "Why did I let him hug me like that...? Why did I hug him back—!?"
"Whyyyy did I let him hug me like that...?" I groaned dramatically into my palms. "And why—" I peeked between my fingers, horrified at myself, "—why did I hug him back!?"
My pillow silently judged me.
I dropped my hands onto my lap, staring into the distance like a depressed grandmother.
"...Maybe because I’m getting comfortable around him?" I muttered to myself.
Silence.
Then I nodded like a very wise monk contemplating life. "Yes. Yes, that is possible. Very logical. Completely rational. Just... comfort."
Not warmth. Not butterflies. Not my chest doing stupid little flips like a frog on caffeine.
Nope.Just comfort.
I rolled out of bed, not-so-gracefully, and caught my reflection in the glass.
My hair was a disaster. My face is still a little red. And I was pretty sure Solena had pecked a tiny hole in my sleeve last night.
"Alright," I muttered to my messy reflection, "let’s get ready."
***
[Later—Outside the Palace Gates]
The courtyard buzzed with activity—soldiers mounting their horses, merchants preparing caravans, and nobles bowing deeply as I passed.
My cloak fluttered behind me like red flame.
"Prepare the escort," I commanded.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Arwin stood proudly near the front, his new authority settling smoothly on him. "Your Highness, everything is ready. Meren will remain under firm control."
I nodded. "See that it prospers. Don’t let it corrode again."
"Yes, Princess."
Osric stood farther back... silent. Eyes lowered. Shoulders rigid. Avoiding my gaze.
Luke approached next, bowing with perfect precision. But his eyes—sharp, searching—slid once toward Haldor.
Again.
That same strange look that made my instincts sharpen.
I ignored it for now.
"Haldor will lead the escort," I said.
"Yes, Your Highness," Haldor said immediately, fist over his heart. "Thank you for trusting in me."
I smiled—small, quick, but real enough that his eyes softened for a heartbeat before he straightened again.
My gaze drifted across the courtyard.
Arwin is assigning squads. Osric reviewed route maps with a rigid jaw. Luke was analyzing the soldiers like he was memorizing every face. Zerith is checking the carts.
Everyone was preparing for the journey back to Eloria.
Everyone except—
"...Where is Rey?" I murmured.
I scanned the area—and then I found him. Behind a pillar. Tucking Sera’s hair behind her ear.
Sera—who usually acts like a feral cat given human form—was blushing so pink she could camouflage among the strawberry cake batter.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Rey leaned in a little closer, whispering something that made her hide her face behind her hands.
I narrowed my eyes.
"...Should I interrupt?" I muttered to myself.
I should.I really should.I had business with him. Important business.
But they looked so—No. Focus.
Then Rey, that infuriating creature, suddenly stilled. He felt my gaze. He slowly turned his head—met my eyes from across the courtyard—and smirked.
A wicked, knowing, I see you’ve something to ask, huh, Princess smirk.
I groaned internally.
Fine. Whatever. I needed him anyway.
"I guess I can talk to him now..." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Sera squeaked when she realized I was approaching. Rey only lifted a brow, all smug amusement.
Rey straightened as I approached—the picture of elegance, smugness, and mischief all wrapped into one annoyingly handsome mage.
Sera immediately stepped back from him, face flushed pink, pretending to polish a dagger that absolutely did not need polishing, and it’s not even her business.
I ignored their awkwardness. I had more important things to address.
"Rey," I said quietly.
His smirk faded—not fully, but softened into something more attentive. "Yes, Princess?"
I glanced around.
Haldor was speaking to Arwin, preparing the formation. Luke was standing further away, observing Haldor with that same... strange, familiar ache. Osric was pretending not to watch me and failing miserably.
Good.
No one was close enough to hear.
I turned fully toward Rey. "I need you to do something."
He lifted a brow. "Anything."
I inhaled slowly—then said it. "Track Haldor’s past."
Rey blinked.
Then blinked again—slowly—like someone had just handed him the plot twist of the century.
"...His past, Your Highness?"
"Yes," I murmured, stepping closer so only he could hear. "Everything about it."
Rey studied me for a long, careful moment. His smirk didn’t return this time—replaced by a rare, serious expression.
"What exactly do you want me to find?"
My gaze cut across the courtyard instinctively toward Haldor.
He was adjusting a soldier’s armor strap—gentle, calm, dutiful. But he looked... alone. Even surrounded by loyal soldiers, he looked like someone who lived with a history no one could see.
"Start with the orphanage he lived in," I said. "And in the area, he became a night stroller. I want every record, every rumor, every old trace connected to him."
Rey tilted his head. "Night strollers don’t keep ledgers, Princess."
Rey’s eyes gleamed—now intrigued. "And his family?"
I hesitated. My voice lowered, threading with something heavier. "Yes. Find out who his parents were."
Rey’s pupils flickered with magic. "That is a deep request, Princess."
"I know."
He raised a hand thoughtfully. "Why now?"
I stared at Haldor again.
His posture—strong. His presence—steady. His loyalty—unshakable.
But his past?
Blank.
A wall.A void.A locked door he never let anyone near.
"Because..." My voice softened without my permission. "He’s been alone his entire life... and I don’t know why."
Rey watched me closely, quietly.
I exhaled, gaze drifting toward the soldiers preparing horses, then to the man standing among them—calm, composed, distant.
Haldor.
"I feel..." I murmured, "as if he had a family. Once. And he deserves to reunite with whatever remains of it."
Rey blinked—something in his expression shifting. Amusement? Surprise? Understanding?
Then—his lips curved.
A slow, knowing smirk.
"So," he drawled lightly, "you truly are his lady luck, Princess."
I choked.
"E—Excuse me—what!?" I sputtered, glaring at him. "What do you mean by lady luck?"
Rey lifted both hands innocently.
"Well, you’re the first person he’s ever let close. The first he’s celebrated a birthday with. The first he’s ever hugged. The first he—"
"STOP TALKING."
Rey grinned. "My point stands."
Sera snickered behind him until I glared her into silence.
Rey leaned slightly closer, voice dropping to a professional calm. "Very well, Princess. I’ll trace his past—his family, his origin, everything he locked away."
Relief washed through me.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Rey placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "For Captain Haldor, who is apparently blessed by your existence, I will find everything."
"Rey—!"
"Consider it done," he said with a wink.
Before I could threaten to throw him out the window—
"Your Highness." Zerith approached, bowing deeply. "We’re ready."
My heart steadied.
"Good," I said, stepping forward. "Then let’s return to Eloria."
I turned slightly, catching Rey’s gaze one last time.
"And Rey—"
"Yes, Princess?"
"Be careful. Whatever Haldor’s past is... it won’t be ordinary."
Rey’s smile faded into something sharp, calculating.
"Oh, I know," he murmured. "That’s what makes this fun."
Sera tugged him by the sleeve, muttering something about him causing trouble as usual. Marshi hopped excitedly around my feet.
I stepped into the sunlight.
"Alright..." I said, drawing a steady breath. "Let’s go home."
Behind me, Haldor mounted his horse, eyes instinctively tracking me—protective, steady, and unknowingly fragile beneath the surface.
Ahead of me, the path to Eloria stretched wide. And somewhere in the shadows behind us...Luke watched silently.
A faint ache flickering in his gaze.
A past waiting to be unraveled.
A truth waiting to be found.