"Is it? Or is it just easier to believe that than to risk caring about someone again?"
Before I can formulate a response to that uncomfortable question, she stands and brushes dust from her clothing with the brisk efficiency of someone who's said what needed saying.
"She deserves someone who sees her potential instead of just managing her presence," Shae says softly. "Think about that, Kai. Think about what kind of partner you want to be."
She walks away, leaving me with thoughts I don't want to examine and questions that probe too close to fears I've spent years avoiding.
The longhouse feelsdifferent when I return, though I can't immediately identify why. Warmer, maybe, or more lived-in than the careful sterility I've maintained since moving here after becoming heir apparent.
Saela emerges from the main room carrying an armload of small packages, her gray-green eyes bright with amusement and something that might be affection.
"More gifts," she announces, gesturing toward the growing collection arranged along one wall. "I think people are competing to see who can give the most creative tribute to Cupid's chosen bride."
I examine the newest additions—carved wooden birds from the Thornwick family, preserved fruit leather from the Ironpaw children, a small hunting knife with intricate handle engravings from Captain Drek and his mate.
"That's a substantial weapon," I observe, testing the blade's balance. "They must really approve of you."
"Or they think I'll need protection from my future husband." Her tone is light, teasing, but there's something underneath that suggests genuine uncertainty about my intentions.
The comment makes heat climb my neck. Does she think I'm a threat to her? The possibility that my size or reserve or clan position makes her nervous in a personal sense rather than just political one bothers me more than it should.
"You won't," I say quietly. "Need protection from me, I mean. I would never?—"
"I know." Her voice carries surprising certainty. "You've been very clear about respecting my choices, even when they complicate things for you."
The acknowledgment settles something tight in my chest, though it also highlights the careful distance we've maintained despite sharing living space and daily proximity.
I watch her arrange the gifts with methodical precision, noting the graceful efficiency in her movements and the way afternoon light catches auburn highlights in her dark hair. She's beautiful in a way that grows more apparent the longer I'm around her—not the obvious appeal of perfect features, but something deeper. Intelligence and resilience and the kind of quiet strength that comes from surviving things that would break weaker people.
Dangerous thoughts. The kind that lead to the emotional investment Bronn is demanding while making the eventual resolution even more complicated.
"Saela." My voice is a little strangled, carrying weight that makes her pause in her organization to look at me directly. "The border scouts brought concerning news."
Her posture shifts immediately, tension replacing relaxation as survival instincts engage. "About Ressa?"
"No word on your friend yet." The disappointment in her eyes makes something twist in my chest. "But Stonevein patrols are pushing deeper into our territory. Moving in coordinated patterns that suggest organized purpose rather than random exploration."
"Because of me?" The question is quiet, but I catch the self-recrimination underneath.
"Maybe. Or maybe they're testing our defenses during festival season, looking for weaknesses to exploit later." I step closer, noting how she doesn't retreat despite the decreased distance. "Either way, I need you to stay close to the settlement center for the immediate future. Close to me, specifically."
Her chin lifts with the stubborn independence I've learned to associate with her resistance to anything that feels like restriction. "I can't hide inside forever."
"Not forever. Just until we understand what they're looking for and whether it poses a direct threat to clan security."
She studies my face with sharp gray-green eyes, searching for something I can't identify. Reading motivations, maybe, or trying to determine how much of my concern is protective versus controlling.
"Alright," she says finally. "But I want to continue training sessions, and I'm not going to stop visiting families or helping with festival preparations."
The compromise is reasonable, though it means more forced proximity when I'm already struggling with unwelcome awareness of her presence. More opportunities to notice the way she laughs at Ursik's terrible jokes or the careful attention she pays when clan members share stories about their lives.
More chances to want things I shouldn't want, to imagine possibilities that exist only in the space between political necessity and personal disaster.
"Agreed," I say, because refusing isn't really an option when her safety might be at stake.
She nods and returns to arranging gifts, but I catch her watching me with peripheral attention that suggests she's as aware of the changed dynamic as I am.
Forced proximity. Bronn's ultimatum to make the relationship look convincing. Shae's observations about healing and partnership and the courage required to risk caring about someone.
