The Eichenwald Garden was beautiful this time of year. Autumn had painted the trees in gold and crimson, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering across the table draped in white linen like a handful of spilled coins. The air carried the scent of apples, honey, and something else— that elusive fragrance of fading warmth you desperately want to hold onto.
Roxana sat at the head of the table, her back to the fountain, pretending to study the reports. In truth, she was watching them. Her brother and Amanda. The way he slid the plate of pastries toward her, the way she smiled while taking a bite of the bun, the way their hands brushed when they both reached for the butter. The way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching.
Like a puppy
, Roxana thought, irritation flickering through her—only half feigned.
Like a lovesick puppy. Where is my stern brother, the conqueror of the horde? Where is the man generals once feared?
“Roxana, won’t you have one?” Amanda’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“What?”
“The cinnamon bun. Randel says you love them.”
Roxana glanced at the offered plate, then at Amanda. The other woman was watching her with a soft, slightly shy smile. No mask. No armor. None of that cold detachment that had once been so intimidating. Just a girl trying to build a bridge with her beloved’s sister.
Clever
, Roxana thought.
Smart. She knows exactly how to get close.
“I do love them,” she replied, taking the bun. “But not cinnamon. Randel always mixes it up.”
“I don’t mix it up,” her brother protested. “I just… sometimes forget.”
“That’s what mixing it up means,” Roxana cut in, though her voice came out softer than usual.
Amanda watched them, and a gentle warmth spread through her chest. She saw the way they glanced at each other, the way they bickered over nothing, the way they smiled at one another. And she thought about how she had never had anything like this in her old world. No brother. No sister. Only books. Only dreams. Now she was in a strange new world she had stumbled into by accident.
“What are you thinking about?” Randel asked, noticing her distant expression.
“About how strange this is,” she replied. “Sitting here. With both of you. Eating buns. Listening to you argue. It… it feels like a dream.”
“A good one?” Roxana asked.
“The best kind.”
Roxana set the reports aside. Her face, usually so unreadable, softened.
“You know,” she said, “I thought I would hate you.”
Amanda froze.
“When you first appeared,” Roxana continued, “when Randel started looking at you like that… I thought you were just another opportunist chasing his title. Or worse—a spy from the Empire. I was ready for war.”
“Roxana…” Randel began, but she raised her hand.
“Let me finish.”
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
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“Then I heard what happened on the cliff. How you stood there. How you raised your hand. How the enemies fled. And I realized… you’re not who I thought you were. You’re the one who will save him. You’ll save all of us. Even if you don’t understand it yourself yet.”
Amanda stared at her, words catching in her throat.
“I’m not…” she started.
“I know,” Roxana said with a small smirk. “You think you’re weak. That you’re not some grand hero or chosen one. But you know what? Real heroes always think that way. They never believe they deserve their place. They’re terrified they won’t be strong enough. They wait for someone to tell them they’re worthless. But they’re not.”
She picked up her glass of juice and raised it.
“You are the Keeper,” she said. “Not because people decided so. But because you simply are. And we… we’re glad you’re with us.”
Amanda looked at her, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to respond to such an unexpected, sincere speech.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” Roxana replied, taking a sip of juice. “Just… be happy with him. He deserves it.”
“I will,” Amanda answered, and there was such quiet certainty in her voice that Randel, sitting beside her, took her hand.
“I’m already happy,” he said. “Just having both of you here. And not trying to kill each other.”
“It’s still early,” Roxana shot back, and all three of them laughed.
After breakfast, they strolled through the garden.
Roxana walked a little ahead, pretending to examine the fallen leaves, but in truth she was giving them space. Randel held Amanda’s hand, and they walked slowly, savoring the silence and the warmth.
“She’s changed,” Randel said, watching his sister. “She would never have said words like that before.”
“She loves you,” Amanda replied. “She just doesn’t know how to show it.”
“And you?” He stopped, turning to face her. “Do you know how?”
“I’m learning,” she smiled. “Slowly, but I’m learning.”
He kissed her. Lightly, quickly—so that if Roxana turned around she wouldn’t notice. But of course she noticed. She simply pretended to be very interested in an old oak tree beside the path.
“Roxana!” Randel called. “Are you coming?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she answered without turning. “Just… looking at this tree. It’s very old. It must remember a lot.”
“What, for example?” Amanda asked.
“For example, how little Randel fell out of it and cried for two hours,” Roxana turned around, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And then claimed it wasn’t him crying — it was the branch creaking.”
“Roxana!” her brother protested.
“What?” She put on her most innocent expression. “I’m just sharing memories. So your girlfriend knows exactly who she’s dealing with.”
“I already know who I’m dealing with,” Amanda said, her voice warm with affection. “The guy who fell out of a tree and wouldn’t admit it.”
“You too?” Randel shook his head, but there was a smile in his eyes. “You’ve ganged up on me.”
“Women always gang up,” Roxana declared with mock authority. “It’s men who keep thinking they’re alone in this world.”
“I don’t think that,” Randel objected. “I know it.”
“What do you know?”
“That you two are conspirators. And that I love you both anyway.”
Roxana froze. So did Amanda. The word he had spoken hung in the air — light and heavy at the same time.
“I love you too,” Roxana said, her voice slightly husky. “Even if you’re an idiot.”
“And I love you,” he replied, “even if you’re a bitch.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“The best one.”
They laughed, and in that laughter there was something Amanda could feel but couldn’t quite name. Family. Real, living family — with its arguments and reconciliations, with a love that didn’t need grand words. Theirs. Hers.
“Let’s go,” Roxana said, turning toward the house. “Or Father will start the council without us.”
“Again?” Randel groaned. “We only finished yesterday.”
“War never ends, brother. You of all people should know that.”
She walked ahead, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner in the wind. Randel and Amanda watched her go.
“She’s strong,” Amanda said. “Stronger than she seems.”
“She’s always been strong,” Randel replied. “She just didn’t show it. Not until you came.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“You have everything to do with it,” he squeezed her hand gently. “You changed all of us. Not with magic. Not with power. Just… by being you.”
She wanted to argue, but he didn’t let her.
“Come on,” he said. “They’re waiting for us.”
They walked along the path strewn with golden leaves. Amanda thought that maybe she really had changed. Not into someone else — she had simply found herself. Someone who could love. Someone who could be happy. Someone who could simply be human.
“Randel,” she said.
“Hm?”
“I want to stay here. Forever.”
He looked at her. His eyes held everything — surprise, joy, hope. And love. The kind she had once feared, and now accepted with open arms.
“You already have,” he said. “And I’m never letting you go.”