The garden still shimmered with candlelight, their lips barely parted when a deliberate clap echoed from the path.
Valmira.
She stood at the edge of the pavilion, arms crossed, a smirk playing across her face.
"Well, well. Now that my dear niece has finished proposing—" she drawled, stepping forward with unhurried grace, "—we should really talk about the wedding preparations. Don't you think?"
Kane nearly jumped, his face flushing crimson as he instinctively straightened, still clutching Arasha's hand like a lifeline.
Valmira's sharp gaze cut to him, eyes glinting with mischief.
"And you, nephew-in-law," she said smoothly, savoring the title, "your input is absolutely necessary. It is both of your day, after all. You must be ready to make Arasha yours properly."
Kane opened his mouth, utterly flustered, but no words formed. His ears turned red as he fumbled for composure.
Arasha, entirely unbothered, lifted her chin with a small grin. "You'll hear Kane's vows at the wedding, Aunt. Not right now."
Kane made a sound halfway between a cough and a groan, squeezing Arasha's hand tighter in mortified protest.
His blush deepened, though he did not let go.
Valmira chuckled, clearly pleased by his reaction.
"Oh, very well. I'll let you have your moment. For now."
She winked and turned on her heel, her laughter trailing behind her as she swept back toward the manor.
Left alone once again, Arasha and Kane breathed in the quiet night together.
Kane exhaled slowly, shaking his head, then looked at her with a mix of embarrassment and unguarded affection.
Without speaking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there.
"Good night," he murmured, his voice warm.
Arasha's lips curved softly. "Good night," she replied, and together they walked back toward their quarters, hand in hand, hearts steadied.
****
Morning light spilled through the curtains when Valmira swept into Arasha's chamber, brisk as always, her expression one of barely-contained excitement.
"Well, my little flame," she said, clasping her hands.
"Since you and Kane are returning to Scion Hold to tie up your loose ends, I'll devote myself to the wedding preparations here. You've decided the ceremony will take place at the Hold, haven't you?"
Arasha, already dressed in her traveling attire, nodded firmly.
"Yes. The Hold is our home. It feels right."
Valmira smiled, both approving and a touch sentimental.
"How very like the two of you. Grounded, loyal, unpretentious—and stubborn as stone. Very well. I'll coordinate directly with the Hold's people and make sure it's worthy of the Commander and her steadfast knight."
Arasha inclined her head in gratitude, while Kane—hovering nearby with arms full of carefully packed souvenirs—looked equal parts nervous and quietly thrilled.
"Then we'll leave it in your hands," Arasha said.
Valmira waved them off as if she had already conquered the matter.
"Go on. And don't dawdle. The sooner you finish your work, the sooner you can return and focus on what truly matters."
Soon after, Arasha and Kane stood together outside the estate gates, the air bright and expectant.
The weight of bags filled with souvenirs didn't dull the spark in either of them.
Kane glanced at Arasha, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
"Ready?"
She gave him a look that was both calm and resolute.
"Always."
And with that, Kane took her hand, focused, and teleported them home—back to Scion Hold, carrying with them not just gifts, but the quiet thrill of a promise that would soon change everything.
****
The moment Kane and Arasha appeared in the courtyard of Scion Hold, the place erupted with life.
Guards on duty straightened proudly, apprentices cheered, and the scent of woodsmoke and steel hung thick in the summer air.
Word of their return spread fast, and soon Garran, John, Rewald, Roen, and Leta were at the forefront of the crowd.
"Welcome back, Commander! Kane!" Garran bellowed, clapping his hands together with genuine relief.
His grizzled face softened as he eyed the souvenirs Kane carried. "Brought us presents, have you? Hah! Good, good!"
John gave a small, content smile, offering them both a steady nod. "It's good to see you home."
Leta, on the other hand, swept forward with arms crossed and a sly tilt to her lips.
"Souvenirs, hm? Don't tell me you actually thought of me while you were away, Commander?"
Her teasing tone was sharp as ever, though her eyes softened when Arasha handed her a carefully chosen trinket.
One by one, they distributed the gifts: delicate local craftwork for Leta, a finely carved pipe for Garran, a pouch of rare alchemical herbs for Roen, an ornate quill for Rewald, and an exquisitely forged miniature blade for John.
Each gift had a personal touch, thoughtful and deliberate, and the recipients knew it.
But as the bustle quieted, Leta's gaze narrowed on the pair.
Something about the way Kane hovered closer than usual, his hand brushing Arasha's as if reluctant to let go, the glow in both of their eyes—it was enough.
Her smirk widened.
Leaning to Garran, she whispered, "They're different. Closer. You don't see it?"
Garran frowned, squinting at the two, then shrugged. "They look the same to me. You're imagining things, girl."
But when Leta shared her suspicion with Rewald, the archmage's eyes glimmered knowingly.
"Ah. I see it. There's a… shift between them. Subtle, but real."
He stroked his beard, then whispered conspiratorially to Leta. "Let's have some fun with this."
Together, they began planting seeds among the staff, whispering that perhaps Kane and Arasha had finally decided to marry.
Their whispers spread faster than wildfire, twisting as it went.
John caught the rumor, smiled faintly, but declined to add fuel.
Roen, when asked, only shrugged.
"It was obvious they'd marry eventually," he said with complete calm. "The question was never if, only when. Let Leta and Rewald play their games."
By nightfall, the entire Hold buzzed with the news.
Apprentices whispered in corners, soldiers speculated openly, and the cooks in the kitchen started talking about wedding feasts.
The story had already begun to mutate—by the time it reached the far barracks, it wasn't just that Commander Arasha and Kane were to wed.
No, some swore she was already pregnant, carrying Kane's child.
When the outrageous version of the rumor reached Leta and Rewald, the two practically doubled over laughing in the hall.
But when it finally reached Arasha herself, she only chuckled, shaking her head.
"So. The secret's out of the bag, it seems."
Kane, overhearing both versions—the truth of their engagement and the embellished nonsense of her being pregnant—went rigid, his ears flushing red.
He stammered for words only to be immediately cornered by Leta and Rewald.
"Ohhh, so it's true, is it?" Leta teased, circling him like a wolf around prey.
Rewald tapped his staff against the floor with faux solemnity. "A wedding and a baby already on the way. Truly, the Hold will rejoice."
Kane sputtered, "That's—not—! I—!" but his protests only made their laughter worse.
Meanwhile, Arasha stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking as her fiancé was teased mercilessly.
When Kane caught her eye, she simply arched a brow as if to say, Well? Mostly true anyway, right?
Kane groaned and dragged a hand down his face, but despite his embarrassment, he couldn't stop the grin tugging at his lips.
The Hold was alive with laughter, speculation, and warmth—rumors or not, the bond between their Commander and her knight had already lifted everyone's spirits.