"Hey, Kaelith—we're here."
I shake him gently, but he's out like a light. I giggle under my breath and carefully lift his head just as Buttercup comes to a stop at the city gate, settling it onto some spare cloth.
"Evening, Nyra. You got your papers?"
I hand them over, and his eyes immediately flick toward the wagon.
"Does he have the proper papers?"
"Doubtful," I admit. "But I can vouch for him. He's a traveler who's been helping me, and he's been invited by both me and my parents."
He hesitates, clearly weighing the decision.
"I'll bend the rules this once, Nyra—because we know you," he finally says. "But make sure he gets some, alright?"
He motions for the gates to open.
I toss him something.
"Mead?"
He catches it easily and laughs. "You should've just led with that."
"That would've been cheating," I reply with a smile. "Besides, it's a gift."
He chuckles as we pass through.
I guide Buttercup deeper into the capital this time. To reach my parents' place, we have to pass through the slums first. Fires burn low along the streets, clusters of people huddled around them, clothes threadbare and torn.
It hits harder today—after reading that book.
She pitied humans. In her own way, she wanted to help them. But if she could see the world now—see all these people suffering while those at the top do nothing—would she still pity us?
That is… if she even existed.
We finally reach my parents' home. As Buttercup slows, I hear movement behind me.
"Woke up just in time," Kaelith says.
"You must've been exhausted."
He shrugs as we climb down. After making sure Buttercup is taken care of, we head inside.
My parents greet me with tight hugs, warmth flooding the room.
"You came," my father says, gripping Kaelith's hand. "Glad to see it, son."
"Glad to be here," Kaelith replies.
After our coats are hung, my mother smiles at us. "Nyra, honey, would you mind showing him to his room? He'll be staying across the hall from you."
I nod and lead him upstairs, luggage in tow.
His room is first—small but comfortable. A bed, a nightstand, a desk. Enough space to exist without feeling crowded.
He sets his things down and glances at me. "Yours is across?"
I nod and reach for my bag, but he shifts it out of my grasp.
I sigh and lead the way.
My room is larger. Books line the walls—more books than anything else. The bed is wide enough that I could curl up in it twice over if I wanted. My closet door hangs open, revealing the few dresses I keep here just in case.
Kaelith's eyes flick everywhere, unsure where to land.
I break the silence. "Welcome to my room. It's not special."
He looks around once more, then smiles softly. "This is definitely you, Nyra."
"And what is that supposed to mean, mister?" I ask, mock offense in my tone.
He laughs—loud, hoarse, like it's a sound he hasn't made in years.
I hug him without thinking, and after a moment, he wraps his arms around me.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," I murmur.
I can feel his breath against my hair, his body warm now, present.
"Shame we aren't sharing a room again," he says lightly.
Of course he brings it up.
I press a finger to his lips. "Don't get spoiled. You're still being punished a little."
He looks ready to argue when—
"Hey, you two!" my mother calls from downstairs. "Come get some food before you head out shopping."
He smiles. "Saved by the bell."
"Or maybe you were," I reply, stepping past him and flicking my hair as I go.
But as we head downstairs together, I realize something quietly, gratefully true.
My Kaelith is back.