The air in your chambers was heavy with the scent of wine and longing.

You had only just stepped back into Elfhame after days spent on Earth—checking in on your sisters, pretending, for a fleeting moment, that your life had ever been simple. The journey home had left your limbs aching and your heart impatient, but you hadn’t expected to return to this.

The room was dim, lit only by the fading embers in the hearth. The soft rustle of your traveling cloak was nearly silent beneath the quiet chaos spread across the floor—half-drunk bottles of Faerie wine, toppled goblets, and a trail of Cardan’s linen shirts that had been discarded with no ceremony.

But it was the bed that stilled you.

He was lying there—shirtless, sprawled across your side of the bed like he’d claimed it in mourning. One of your shirts, a simple thing you'd left behind without a second thought, was bunched under his cheek, its sleeves tangled beneath his jaw as if he’d needed something of you, anything, to hold onto. His dark curls were a mess over his forehead, his long back rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths. Even in sleep, he looked vaguely displeased, like he was dreaming of arguments he wished he could win.

You exhaled quietly, set your things down without a sound, and crossed the room.

Climbing onto the bed beside him felt like slipping back into your place in the world. You tucked yourself close, careful not to wake him too harshly, and brushed a few strands of hair from his face. He didn't stir. Leaning down, you pressed your lips softly to the warm skin at his temple—the only spot you could reach without shifting him.

That did it.

Cardan stirred with a low sound, groggy and disoriented for all of half a second. And then, like instinct, his arms wrapped around you in one swift, sleepy movement. He didn’t even open his eyes. He just pulled you in—an anchoring grip like he thought you might disappear again if he didn’t hold on.

“Someone missed me,” you whispered, a small, wry smile curving your lips.

He said nothing at first. Just breathed you in.

The silence stretched, but you didn’t mind. Not when his body was pressed to yours like this, clinging like you'd returned from war instead of just a few days away.

Then, finally, his voice—low, rough, still half-tangled in sleep.

“My sweet nemesis,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder, “how glad I am that you returned.”