The forest swallowed the last of the sunlight, leaving Aurelian moving through its shadows like a hunted thing. His cloak was torn, smoke still clung to him, and the faint ringing of steel-on-steel echoed in his mind from the ambush on his carriage. His men had scattered—on his order. Better he be the only target than all of them.

But now he was alone. And lost.

Branches snagged his sleeves as he pushed deeper into the trees, breath steady but sharp. He had taken worse blows in courtrooms than arrows in battle, but exhaustion pressed against him like a hand at his throat. He needed shelter before night claimed him.

A soft humming drifted through the woods.

He stilled instantly.

Not a threat—too gentle, too unguarded.

He stepped toward the sound and found her.

She stood in a small clearing, bending gracefully as she plucked herbs and pale blue flowers from the earth. Her gown shimmered softly in the fading light, its floral patterns almost merging with the forest around her. Her long braid—dark brown, glossy—fell down her back, braided with white blossoms that made her look as though she’d stepped out of a dream. Her delicate features were relaxed, lips curved faintly at the corners as she hummed to herself.

Aurelian stared. For a rare, unsettling moment, he forgot the sting of danger.

She turned at the sound of a snapped twig. Her eyes widened, not with fear but surprise.

“Oh—sir? What are you doing out here?” Her voice was soft but clear, like water moving over smooth stones. Then, seeing his torn clothes and the dirt smudged on his face, her expression shifted. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

“I…” Aurelian cleared his throat, stepping out of habit back into dignity. “I’ve lost my way. My carriage was attacked.”

Her brows knit gently. “That’s awful. Come with me—my home is near. You shouldn’t wander with night coming.”

Before he could protest, she was already stepping toward him, her presence warm and strangely grounding. She led him through the thinning woods until a small, cozy cabin appeared between the trees, light flickering from its windows.

The door opened before she even knocked.

Her father stood there—broad-shouldered, grey streaking his hair, eyes narrowing the moment they landed on Aurelian. The man’s jaw tightened.

“Who is this?”

“A traveler,” she chirped, oblivious to the tension. “His carriage was attacked. He needs shelter.”

Her father grunted, clearly unimpressed, but stepped aside anyway. “Fine. One night.”

Aurelian bowed slightly in gratitude, though the man didn’t return it.

Inside, the cottage smelled of herbs and warm bread. The daughter moved lightly, gathering blankets, a cup, anything she thought he might need.

She hovered near him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Where are you from? You speak so elegantly. And your clothes—well, what’s left of them—look expensive. Are you a noble? Or maybe a scholar? Or…”

Her father sighed heavily.

Aurelian allowed himself a faint smile. “Just a man who had a very unfortunate day.”

She beamed at that, apparently charmed.

When it came time to settle for the night, she pointed firmly to her small bedroom.

“You’ll sleep in my bed,” she declared. “I’ll take the sofa.”

Both her father and Aurelian spoke at once: “No.” “It isn’t necessary.”

But she folded her arms, eyes bright with stubborn gentleness.

“You’re injured, tired, and a guest. And my bed is much more comfortable. So that’s final.”

Her father rubbed his temples. “You’re just like your mother.”

Aurelian tried again, quietly. “I cannot take your bed.”

“You can,” she said simply, “and you will.”

Her father muttered something about saints testing him, but she ignored him entirely, already fluffing pillows for Aurelian.

He stood there, momentarily at a loss. Few people ever told him what to do. Even fewer made him obey without realizing it.

But she had.

And as he finally allowed himself to rest in her room—surrounded by soft fabrics, pressed flowers, and the faint scent of herbs—he found himself listening to her gentle humming from the other room.