"Uncle Val!" Amisra abandons her breakfast immediately, launching herself at him.
He catches her smoothly, swinging her up with an ease that suggests strength hidden beneath scholar's robes. "Good morning, little bird. I hope you saved some breakfast for me."
"You can have mine." She's already wiggling to be put down. "I want to show you my flower."
"In a moment." He sets her carefully back on the ground, then looks at Daryn. His expression shifts, something careful sliding into place. "You're looking better today."
"I feel better." Daryn gestures to the spread of food, the sunshine, the picture of domestic peace we've created. "Which is why I insisted on taking advantage of the weather. Join us?"
It's not really a question despite the phrasing. Valas knows it too—I can see the acceptance in how his shoulders relax slightly, how he settles onto the blanket we've spread across the grass. Near Daryn but leaving space, not crowding.
Not near me, I tell myself firmly. Not sitting close to me on purpose.
Except Amisra has other ideas.
"Keira, sit here." She pats the space between herself and Valas with the authority only a four-year-old can summon. "Then you can be in the middle and share with everyone."
"I'm fine where I am." I'm sitting at the edge of the blanket, safely distant from violet eyes and dangerous proximity.
"Please?" She deploys the most potent weapon in her arsenal—wide lavender eyes and a trembling lower lip. "I want you to sit by me."
Daryn is watching this exchange with poorly hidden amusement. Valas is fighting a smile, I can see it in how the corners of his mouth twitch. And I realize, with a sinking sensation in my stomach, that I'm being maneuvered.
"Alright." I give in because arguing with Amisra is pointless and because refusing makes this a bigger deal than it should be. "But only if you promise to actually eat instead of just feeding the birds."
"I promise!" She's already making room, scooting closer to her father to create space.
I move across the blanket, settling into the spot she's cleared with probably more attention to posture than necessary. Sitting straight, hands folded in my lap, maintaining careful distance from the dark elf now occupying my peripheral vision.
Except the blanket isn't as large as I thought. And Valas doesn't move away when I sit down. Just stays exactly where he is, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that when he shifts slightly our knees brush.
The contact is brief. Probably accidental. Definitely not something I should be thinking about as heat floods through me from that single point of contact.
"Try the pastries," Daryn says, drawing my attention mercifully away from knee-related revelations. "The kitchen outdid themselves this morning."
I reach for a pastry, needing something to do with my hands. The flaky layers dissolve on my tongue, sweet and buttery, though I barely taste it. Too aware of how Valas is reaching for the same platter, how his hand brushes past mine in the process.
"Sorry." His voice is low, meant just for me.
"It's fine." I don't look at him. Can't, really, not without giving away how very not fine this is. How every nerve ending seems suddenly attuned to his presence.
Amisra saves me by demanding Valas's attention, pulling him into a conversation about whether flower princesses would have magic powers. He engages with her completely, asking questions that make her think, offering suggestions that send her into delighted spirals of imagination.
I watch him with her, see how gentle he is. How patient. The way he listens like her words matter, like her elaborate fantasies deserve serious consideration. And something in my chest twists, softening in ways I can't afford.
This is dangerous. Not the proximity or the accidental touches, but this. Seeing him as more than just polite. More than just kind to someone in his friend's employ. Seeing him as someone who would be good at loving. At caring for the people in his life with dedication and warmth.
"Keira thinks flower princesses would have earth magic," Amisra announces suddenly, pulling me back to the conversation. "Right, Keira?"
"I—" I blink, scrambling for context. "Sure. Earth magic makes sense."
"See?" Amisra looks triumphantly at Valas. "She agrees with me."
"Then it must be true." His eyes meet mine over Amisra's head, something warm and amused in their violet depths. "Keira is clearly an expert on magical flowers."
"I wouldn't say expert." The words come out more defensive than intended.
"No?" He tilts his head slightly, studying me with interest that makes my skin prickle. "What would you say, then?"
