Dydra's sudden departure left Oryen standing alone in the cottage, the silence pressing in around her. She had expected resistance, anger perhaps, even tears—but not flight. Not this. The girl's reaction unsettled her in a way she hadn't anticipated. Oryen turned the moment over in her mind, replaying Dydra's expression, the way her energy had flared and then vanished like a snuffed flame. Where was she going at this hour? And more importantly, why had she looked so frightened?
She hesitated only briefly before moving. The forest at night was no place for someone so young, so volatile, especially in her state. Oryen reached for her cloak, then paused as thunder rolled faintly in the distance. Rain followed soon after, soft at first, then heavier. With a quiet curse, she crossed back into the cottage and retrieved two thick coats. She slipped one on and draped the other over her arm before stepping outside again. Closing her eyes, she reached outward, letting her senses stretch until they caught the familiar thread of Dydra's energy, thin but unmistakable, leading deep into the woods.
She followed.
Dydra's ocean-blue eyes were locked onto the stranger's, her breath shallow as she stared up at him. The man was close—far too close—and the warmth of his presence contrasted sharply with the cold rain soaking her skin. Goosebumps rose along her arms, though she couldn't tell whether it was from the chill or something else entirely. His eyes held her captive, dark and unreadable, like a night sky without stars. There was something in them—depth, perhaps, or danger—that made it difficult to look away.
The rain slid slowly down her face, tracing the curve of her cheek. Leonard's gaze followed the droplet unconsciously before lifting again to her features. Strands of her red hair clung to her forehead, damp and wild, framing a face caught between fear and defiance. She looked younger than she was, he noted, yet there was something hardened beneath the surface, something that had known loss too intimately. It unsettled him.
Lightning flashed, breaking the spell.
Dydra startled as awareness rushed back into her body. She gasped softly, a shy, almost embarrassed smile flickering across her lips as she released her grip on his collar. Stepping back, she straightened quickly, creating distance between them. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.
"I—I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above the rain. She kept her eyes lowered, heat rushing to her face. She had never been this close to a man before, not like this, not with her pulse racing and her thoughts scattered. The fabric of his clothing had felt expensive beneath her fingers, smooth and finely made. Wealth, then. That realization alone made her stomach knot. People like him were not known for patience or kindness, and she had no protection here.
Leonard didn't respond.
Rain continued to fall, soaking through her dress until it clung uncomfortably to her frame. Leonard became aware of it distantly, irritation stirring as his attention refused to settle where it should. He had traveled through countless cities, encountered beauty in many forms, yet this—this distraction—was unfamiliar and unwelcome. He forced his gaze upward, jaw tightening. This was not like him.
Dydra noticed his silence and the weight of his attention and immediately grew uneasy. She folded her arms around herself instinctively, shielding what little warmth she had left. This was a mistake. Staying here was a mistake. She had already learned what happened when she lingered too long in dangerous places with dangerous people.
She bowed stiffly and turned away, intent on leaving.
Then realization struck like ice down her spine.
Speed.
Her breath caught as she scanned the shadows frantically. The forest loomed around her, dark and alive with unseen movement. Her horse was nowhere in sight. Panic flared, sharp and immediate. She could feel the man's gaze on her back, heavy and lingering, and suddenly the memory surged forward unbidden—the way another man had once looked at her, hungry and entitled, the way fear had rooted her to the ground.
Her chest tightened. Not again.
She began to walk slowly, carefully, keeping her movements controlled. If she ran, he could catch her easily. Her bare feet sank into wet earth, every step deliberate, her senses stretched tight as wire.
Leonard noticed.
The tension in her shoulders, the careful pacing, the way her breathing changed. He frowned, irritation giving way to something closer to understanding. With a quiet exhale, he straightened.
"Forgive my behavior, my lady," he said calmly.
Dydra froze.
Her heart skipped violently as she turned halfway toward him, confusion flooding her features. My lady? The words echoed in her head. That wasn't right. That wasn't allowed. Only those of status bore such titles, and she was nothing of the sort. Fear crept in quickly now, cold and insistent. If he believed her to be someone she wasn't, the consequences could be dire.
She turned fully and bowed deeply, her head lowered in respect.
"My lord," she said quickly, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I do not hold any title. I beg your pardon for not making that clear before."
She remained bowed, rain soaking into her hair, cold biting into her shoulders. The forest felt suddenly vast and unforgiving. Out here, far from witnesses, status meant everything. Without it, she was invisible.
Leonard didn't answer at once.
His gaze had softened, though not in the way she expected. There was curiosity there now, sharp and focused. She was barefoot, he noticed. Shivering. Proud, despite her fear. The realization unsettled him in ways he didn't care to examine.
"Rise," he said at last, his voice firm but not unkind.
Dydra hesitated, then slowly straightened, her eyes still cast downward. The rain continued to fall between them, the forest holding its breath as if waiting for what would come next.
And somewhere in the distance, unseen but moving steadily closer, Oryen followed the trail they had unknowingly carved through the night.