"We'll hold the post-mortem meeting shortly. Gather in the main barrack," Kyren ordered, reins in hand as his warhorse slowed upon entering the camp.
Fifteen men returned with him—ten knights recalled from patrol, and five who had accompanied him to Dracor: his escorts and the healer.
The clip-clop of hooves gradually subsided as squires hurried forward, taking charge of the horses and welcoming the returning force.
Kyren's sharp blue gaze swept across the camp.
The atmosphere was calm, the summer breeze stirring gently through the settlement. Everything appeared in order, just as he had left it.
Then something caught his eye.
In the distance, a woman stood hesitantly in the middle of the path leading toward his tent.
His eyes were fixed on her.
For a brief moment, his mind refused to register what he was seeing—then his irises dilated.
It felt as though he had been struck squarely in the chest, heart slammed painfully as recognition set in.
Without hesitation, Kyren swung down from his horse. He tore off his gauntlets and dropped them to the ground, already striding fast forward as a squire scrambled to retrieve them.
Anna's breath hitched the instant she saw him clearly. Her hand flew to her chest, struggling to steady the frantic pounding beneath her ribs.
'It's him. He's really back. Safe.'
Adrenaline surged through her veins, leaving her dizzy. Her vision blurred as the tears she had held back for weeks finally spilt free.
In that moment, the restraint shattered.
Ignoring the stares of soldiers and knights alike, the princess pushed off with her bare feet and ran.
She collided with him—hard—small hands clutching at his waist, her tear-soaked face pressed against the cold steel of his breastplate.
The camp fell utterly silent.
All eyes turned toward the unexpected sight: the Knight Commander standing rigid in full armour, his wife clinging to him as though afraid he might vanish again.
Only her sobbing broke the stillness.
Kyren's arms came around her instinctively—strong, careful, protective.
One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her auburn hair, while the other secured her trembling form against him.
The scent of grass, earth, and iron clung to his armour. It was cold against her cheek, and utterly real.
"It's all right," he murmured. "I'm here."
The sound of his voice shattered what remained of her composure. Anna clutched him tighter, as though anchoring herself to his presence.
Kyren's hand moved soothingly over her hair. She felt fuller and healthier in his arms now—the change evident both to the eye and to the touch.
After a moment, he eased her back slightly.
"Let me look at you."
Reluctantly, she adhered, her hands holding onto his. Kyren lifted her chin, his gaze searching her face.
Her cheeks—once hollow—were now softly rounded, flushed with colour. Her emerald eyes shone brightly even through tears, and her lips looked fuller, softer.
A faint smile etched on his lips.
"You look… different," he said quietly. "In a good way."
The commander had left in haste, with no time for words, and throughout the weeks away, his thoughts had returned again and again to his bride. Seeing her improvement eased a worry he had carried in silence.
"I-I wanted to look presentable for you," Anna tried to say, voice breaking. "So I—"
He didn't let her finish.
Kyren brushed away her tears with his calloused thumb, a faint smirk curving his lips. "You're a crybaby."
She broke down again, not from offence, but from the sheer relief of having him back.
His arms wrapped around her once more, firm and reassuring.
"Stop crying, Anna."
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to—"
"Did anything happen while I was gone?" he asked, concern sharpening his tone. Her sobs felt too intense, as though something lay beneath them, something else.
"No."
"Then why are you crying like this?"
He eased her back again, holding her shoulders. She sniffled.
"You were gone for so long. You didn't even say goodbye."
"It was an emergency," he replied calmly. "I had a duty to fulfil."
"I was scared," she admitted, eyes wide. "I thought something had happened to you."
"I'm fine." His gaze dropped. "You shouldn't have been out here."
"I waited," she insisted quickly. "Just like you said. But there was no news. I couldn't—"
"You should have waited."
The words were firm. Final.
She fell silent.
Then Kyren frowned.
"Anna." His voice tightened. "Are you barefoot?"
She blinked, following his gaze to her feet—dust-covered, scraped.
"I… forgot."
He sighed, clearly displeased.
In one swift motion, the commander bent and lifted her into his arms.
"Ahh!"
Anna yelped, grabbing onto his neck instinctively as she was swept off the ground. Behind him, stunned knights stared openly—some mouths hanging slack.
"Kyren—!" she whispered urgently. "I can walk!"
"You nearly reopened your wounds."
"B-but… Everyone is staring," she stammered, cheeks burning as she tried to hide against his chest.
"I know," he replied curtly.
"You know?"
He wasn't looking around. His eyes never left her. How could he know?
He didn't explain. Instead, he said, "You should have thought of that before running barefoot to me."
She had no retort.
Now that she was secured in his arms, his gaze moved across the camp and fixed on the two guards responsible for her. They had trailed her until the moment of reunion—after that, neither dared step in.
"Disband. Have those guards punished. Ten floggings each for neglecting their duty and allowing my wife to wander."
Anna stiffened, her eyes widening. The same shock flashed across the guards' faces.
"No—please! It was my fault! I ordered them to let me go!"
"Violation of protocol," Kyren stated. "They acted on unauthorised orders. Add ten more."
"Kyren!" Her voice shook.
He lowered his gaze to her, tone solemn. "Would you like me to add more?"
She shook her head frantically.
The gentleman who had held her moments ago was gone—replaced by the feared Knight Commander.
The guards were dragged away despite their pleas.
"What about the post-mortem meeting, Commander?" one of the knights named Drystan called.
"Postpone it."
"Yes, Commander."
Kyren turned and strode toward the tent without more words, carrying Anna in his arms. Behind them, the knights stared after the retreating couple.
"I think Sir Henderson's jaw needs medical attention," Drystan muttered as his eyes cast a side glance to the young knight. "It's been hanging open too long."
"Maybe a punch to the face would do to fix it. Much faster and easier," Garin teased.
Luke snorted. "I never thought I'd see the day."
"Romantic, wasn't it?" Rafe remarked dryly. "A celibate turned doting husband."
"He wasn't the man he used to be," Eli whispered. "I swear it. I thought I was hallucinating. But the moment he ordered the punishment, I knew. That was him."
"Hallucinating?" Rafe scoffed softly. "That looked more like a romantic farce. I never imagined such a change to our commander. He must have been quite pleased with that warm welcome."
"I'd rather face his usual self than whatever that was," Eli muttered, giving an exaggerated shudder.
Rafe chuckled, casting the young knight an amused glance. A quiet relief settled in his chest as well. Judging by Anna's appearance, his assistant had done commendable work. For that, he felt a measure of gratitude toward Ayden's diligence.
"So… the post-mortem meeting," Garin ventured, turning to the second-in-command. "Should it be held tonight?"
Eric let out a short laugh. "Nah! He won't be leaving his tent anytime soon."
For once, none of them doubted it.