Days passed in routine .
She arrived before dawn , transcribed reports , listened to councils , spoke anly when asked.
Caelum spoke even less .
Yet something grew .
Not in words — but in glances held a second too long .
In the way he handed her scrolls , always brushing her fingertips .
In the way his eyes softened — barely — when she spoke .
He never smiled , but she thought he might , one day .
One evening g , as storms battered the keep is high windows, he said , “stay .”
Elira halfway to the door , paused.
“Highness ?”
He did not look at her .
Just motioned round the maps .
” I want you thoughts on troop logistics for the winter .”
She stayed .
They worked for hours .
He tested her — her logic , her recall , her instincts .
She passed everytime .
Finally , he said , ” You have earned more than silence , Elira Vane , ”
She turned to him .
” Then speak to me not as your scribe .
Just a man to a woman .”
A pause .
His breath caught , subtle .
And then —
“I do not know how .”
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