“Keep talking, Alias. I’ll be sure toput you back in your placeif you get too comfortable.”
Alias just chuckles, his voice full of confidence.
“Please, I dare you.”
Gwyn sighs, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck.”
I laugh softly, feeling a strange warmth wash over me. The dynamic between them is chaotic but undeniably genuine, and it helps me feel like the weight I’ve been carrying isn’t quite so heavy.
I watch as Alias and Gwyn continue their usual banter around the fire. But the warmth of the flames is nothing compared to the heat of the allure between them. It’s subtle, lingering beneath their words, but it’s unmistakable. And I can’t help but feel like an outsider looking into something far more complicated than they let on.
My heart feels a little heavier with the realization that sometimes, it’s hard to see or accept the things we want most, even when they’re right in front of us. And for all their teasing and bickering, Alias and Gwyn seem to be the perfect example of that—two people who are too stubborn to admit what they truly feel for each other, even if everyone else can see it.
As the bickering continues, I glance over at Callum, who has been quietly observing the exchange. His lips twitch, as though he might smile, but the moment our eyes meet, he quickly looks away, his stoicmask slipping back into place. And for the first time, something unexpected stirs within me—a sense of belonging, however fleeting. In this strange, mismatched group, I feel a piece of myself settling into place. The more time I spend with them, the more I begin to understand the tangled bonds that hold them together—messy, imperfect, and complicated, but real all the same.
The fire burns lower,embers glowing faintly as time slips by unnoticed. Callum lays back near the firepit, twirling his knife with lazy precision, his eyes fixed on the flames as if searching for answers in their flickering dance. Gwyn stands abruptly, brushing off her hands.
“I’m going to grab more wood,” she announces, breaking the quiet.
Alias’s gaze follows her as she turns toward the trees, watching silently for a moment before he rises to his feet.
“You’ll probably end up with wet wood,” he calls after her. “Let me help, so we don’t sit here trying to burn mud.”
She glances over her shoulder, arching a brow. “I think I can manage dry wood without your expert advice, Alias.”
“Sure you can,” he shoots back, catching up to her with an easy stride. “But why take the risk?”
Their voices fade, playful teasing lingering in the air as they disappear among the trees.
“Are they together?” I ask, my voice soft but searching.
Callum looks up at them, letting his gaze linger before he shakes his head.
“Surely they must know they’re in love with each other,” I press, feeling that familiar tug of curiosity pulling at me.
He turns to me, his expression serious, almost too much so.
“And what do you know of being in love, Your Grace?”
The question catches me off guard, but I refuse to show it. My lips tighten slightly as I hold his gaze.
“Have you been in love?”
Callum exhales deeply, his shoulders sinking just slightly before his lips twist into a smirk. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the mischievous edge in his eyes.
“I don’t believe in anything that can put a man on his knees,” he says casually, his tone dismissive, as if the very idea is beneath him.
“That’s what love is to you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Isn’t it?” His words feel like a cutting taunt.
“You might have lived a life, Your Grace, where everyone falls to their knees before you. It might seem easy to you,” he says, his voice calm but pointed enough to sting.
The jab lands, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I keep my expression neutral, refusing to let him see how his words crawl under my skin.
“What you see isdutyandobedience,” he says, his tone dipping lower, darker. “Love requires neither.”
“Then what does it require?”
