The sky over Nivara dawned clear, with a light breeze carrying the fresh scent of the nearby fields. Amara, gazing out the window of her room, decided she needed a break from the castle walls and some fresh air. After a light breakfast, she made her way to Asier’s study.

  He was seated at a dark wooden table, reviewing documents with a concentrated expression. His posture was firm, and although his face reflected calm, his eyes always seemed to analyze everything with an intimidating depth.

  “Asier,” Amara said softly, interrupting him.

  He lifted his gaze, setting the papers aside, his expression softening when he saw her.

  “I want to go to the village. Will you come with me?”

  “To the village?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. For a brief moment, he seemed to evaluate the idea, as if calculating possible risks or implications. Finally, he nodded with a faint smile.

  “Of course. If that’s what you want, we’ll go.”

  Amara looked at him curiously. Although Asier was always courteous, his expression rarely revealed much. His face, marked by a scar that made him more imposing, carried a controlled calm that sometimes unsettled her. Still, in moments like this—when he agreed without hesitation—she sensed a humanity in him that was not always evident.

  The village of Nivara was full of life. Amara walked beside Asier, observing everything around her with a mixture of fascination and nostalgia. Though she had grown up in a kingdom full of luxury, the warmth and simplicity of the village felt comforting. Asier, meanwhile, maintained a protective posture, always a step behind her, his eyes alert to the movements of the crowd.

  “How are the wedding preparations going?” Amara asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

  Asier took a moment before responding. His lips pressed together briefly before he spoke.

  “They’re going well. The council insists it be a memorable event. Although…” He paused, glancing at her. “I want to make sure it’s something you can tolerate.”

  Amara let out a light laugh.

  “‘Tolerate’ isn’t exactly reassuring, Asier.”

  He smiled, a hint of irony touching his expression.

  “Royal weddings rarely are.”

  Something in his tone suggested personal experience, something she did not dare to ask about. She decided to change the subject and observe her surroundings. Asier walked beside her in silence, allowing her to explore, yet always attentive, as if anything could pose a threat.

  “Asier, may I ask you something personal?” she said suddenly.

  He turned toward her, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of surprise and caution.

  “You may try.”

  Amara swallowed, feeling slightly intrusive.

  “Your scar… how did you get it?”

  For the first time, his features hardened slightly. The neutral smile he usually wore vanished, and his gaze grew distant.

  “That’s a story for another time,” he said calmly but firmly. Before Amara could insist, he gestured toward a nearby stand filled with bright fruit.

  “Do you like these? They’re typical from here.”

  Amara understood that the subject was closed and chose not to press further.

  They reached a small park in the center of the village, where an unbloomed tree stood tall. Amara stopped to admire it.

  “I heard that the trees of Nivara bloom in dark blue. I’ve always wanted to see them like that,” she murmured, almost to herself.

  Asier observed the tree for a moment, his expression softening. Without a word, he extended his hand toward the trunk and closed his eyes. With a delicate movement, he used his magic. Slowly, the tree transformed, its branches filling with deep dark-blue blossoms.

  Amara watched, wide-eyed, stepping closer and gently touching one of the flowers.

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  “It’s beautiful,” she said at last, her voice filled with awe and gratitude. “Your magic is beautiful, Asier.”

  He looked at her, and for a brief instant, something broke through his controlled expression. His lips curved into a small smile, though his eyes held a melancholy he could not hide.

  “Thank you, Amara. But not all of my magic is beautiful.”

  She looked at him with curiosity, wanting to ask more, but sensed—just as with his scar—that this was not the moment. Instead, she grabbed his hand eagerly and pulled him along.

  “I want to see the market! Come on.”

  Asier let out a soft laugh, a rare sound coming from him.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the market. Amara bought fruit, freshly baked bread, and a small bag of seeds. Asier, though still reserved, allowed himself to smile more than usual at her enthusiasm. At one point, he even tried a local sweet reluctantly, which made Amara laugh genuinely.

  When they returned to the castle, Amara carried a full basket. Curious, Asier asked,

  “What are you planning to do with the seeds?”

  “I want to plant flowers in the castle garden,” she replied with a smile.

  “You don’t need to do it yourself. The gardeners can handle it.”

  “Thank you, but I want to do it myself,” Amara replied, meeting his gaze with gentle firmness.

  Asier nodded.

  That night, as Amara lay on her bed, memories of her past resurfaced with force. She thought of what she had endured in Aeloria—the betrayals, the pain that had driven her here. Her fury toward the royal family of Aeloria, especially her parents, still burned like a flame refusing to die.

  Despite Asier’s promise to help her, she knew she could not leave everything in his hands. She needed to ensure her vengeance stayed on course.

  “I need to talk to Asier,” she murmured, determination filling her eyes.

  She walked through the castle corridors, lit by the soft glow of torches casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. She stopped at Asier’s door and took a deep breath before knocking softly.

  “Who is it?” came his deep voice from inside.

  “It’s me, Amara,” she replied, calm but firm.

  A brief silence followed.

  “Come in.”

  Amara pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was austere, furnished with only the essentials. Asier sat on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He looked up at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Amara began, approaching cautiously, “but there’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

  He straightened slightly and gestured for her to continue.

  “You don’t need to apologize. Speak. I’m listening.”

  Amara took a breath.

  “Since I arrived here, I’ve felt like I can finally breathe. But I haven’t forgotten what was done to me in Aeloria… nor my desire for vengeance.”

  Asier remained silent, watching her with an intensity that made her hesitate.

  “I want to know if you’re still willing to help me,” she continued. “And when it will all happen.”

  He nodded, as though he had expected the question.

  “I haven’t forgotten my promise, Amara. I’m with you in this. But we must be patient. If we want everything to go well, we need to move carefully.”

  “What exactly are you planning?” Amara asked, crossing her arms.

  Asier tilted his head, considering how much to reveal.

  “When we locate the sacred sword, we’ll send our people to retrieve it. That sword is the key. Once it’s in our hands, we’ll invade Aeloria. When we take control, you’ll be able to carry out your vengeance however you wish.”

  Amara listened carefully. His determination reassured her, though she sensed a shadow in his gaze she didn’t fully understand.

  “All right,” she said firmly. “Thank you for telling me. And for not forgetting your promise.”

  Asier looked at her differently then. His usually cold, calculating eyes reflected a deep sadness. Amara stepped closer.

  “What’s wrong, Asier?” she asked softly.

  He looked away, trying to hide his emotions. Before he could answer, Amara leaned in and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

  “If something is hurting you, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to help you. I’m here to listen.”

  Something in him broke. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. Amara froze at first, startled by the unexpected gesture, but when she felt the tension in his body, she softened. She returned the hug, blushing slightly, and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

  “Asier…” she whispered.

  He said nothing, holding her tighter, as if clinging to her could drive away the shadows haunting him. Eventually, he pulled back and stood up. His expression returned to its controlled state, though the melancholy in his eyes lingered.

  “I’m fine, Amara. Don’t worry about me,” he said with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been a long day. We should rest.”

  Amara nodded, though uncertainty remained.

  “I understand. Good night, Asier.”

  “Good night.”

  Back in her room, Amara lay on her bed, unable to stop thinking about the sadness in his eyes.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to help him,” she whispered.

  That night, her thoughts lingered on Asier more than on her vengeance.