Thanks to the fireplace burning day and night, the air in the room was warm. The faint scent of medicinal herbs lingered there, mingled with the subtle trace of its owner’s presence.

Led by a slender hand, Cassion stepped deep into the room, beside the bed, breathing in the air he had missed so dearly. His eyes slowly traced the room’s details.

Beside the fireplace, a chair was stacked with quite a few books. They were ones he had chosen for her before his departure, telling her to read them on the days her health allowed. It looked as though she had managed to open only one or two.

His gaze was drawn to the bed. Irynsis was busily rummaging through the nightstand drawer. On top of it lay towels stained with the blood she had coughed up.

Cassion’s face hardened at once.

“Nia, have you been very unwell?”

No answer came. As if the blood she had coughed wasn’t the real wound, but rather the blood seeping from his scraped palm, she hurriedly pulled out bandages and medicine from the drawer.

With Scarlett growing busier as the Duchy’s situation worsened, these were simple emergency supplies they had kept on hand. Irynsis, unsteady on her feet, had often stumbled or scraped herself while moving about the room.

“Give me your hand.”

Before he could respond, Irynsis seized his hand and drew it up close to her face.

His gaze wandered briefly—to the pillow propped just right for her back, the bed sheets marked most heavily near the window where she often sat, and finally, back to the woman standing before him.

“How did this happen?”

As she poured disinfectant over his palm, she winced as though she herself had been wounded. The sight tugged a gentle smile to his lips.

“It’s just a scratch.”

He hadn’t thought it worth troubling Scarlett over; he had planned to take care of it himself. If he had known Irynsis was awake, he would have come to her only after washing the blood and dirt away.

“How can you call this just a scratch?”

Once the disinfectant cleared away the dried blood and dust, the cut revealed itself more clearly. Contrary to his words, it was deep.

With a furrowed brow, Irynsis selected one of the few medicines with great care. Her slender fingers scooped out a bit of the pungent salve and gently applied it, her lips caught between her teeth in concentration, afraid of causing him pain.

Cassion watched her quietly.

That smooth, pale forehead; the trembling lashes each time she moved; the eyes as blue as a lake that he had longed to see even in dreams. The slightly upturned corners of her eyes, the round tip of her nose, and her lips—cracked and dry, yet still flushed with red.

She had been the only thing he ached for, the one face he had wished for in the desolation of the battlefield. She seemed so unreal now, standing before him.

When she finally turned away, finished with the salve, he almost flinched at the faint warmth leaving his fingertips.

Finding a clean bandage, Irynsis began wrapping his hand carefully, starting at the pulse and working her way down with neat, steady movements. Her fingers trembled from weakness, yet they were deft and sure.

Before his departure, she had had no knack for such things. How many bandages had she wrapped since then, to have grown so skilled? A bittersweet smile curved on his lips.

“I think it would be best to call Scarlett.”

Even after tying the bandage neatly, Irynsis glanced around, unsatisfied. She turned toward the door.

Cassion hastily caught her small hand before she could slip away again. At the sudden strength, her eyes widened as she met his gaze.

“Finally… you’re looking at me.”

His eyes curved, colored by the soft glow of the setting sun. Only she had the power to make him smile like this.

“Cassion, I should fetch Scarlett—”

He raised his hand, cupping her cheek with the one she had just tended, his fingertips brushing slowly along her skin. The touch was firm, though not harsh.

“Just think of me as not quite in my right mind after coming back from the battlefield.”

In truth, he had never been in his right mind whenever he was with her.

As she blinked up at him in surprise, his body bent closer.

His rough lips, dry from travel, grew damp with her breath. When her lips parted slightly in shock, he did not miss the chance, and pressed deeper.

Irynsis clutched at his collar as his warmth surged into her like a breaking wave.

Never before—not even in the early days, when her unskilled holy power had overheated her body while treating the plague—had this man revealed his desire so openly.

He would have bitten back every urge, even driven a blade into himself, rather than give in like this. Not once, until now.

And tonight, he hadn’t even been treated.

Yet he came to her.

Like a parched beast stumbling upon an oasis after wandering the desert, his breath came ragged, consumed by thirst.

Irynsis was lost, her thoughts scattering. She felt no urge to push him away. The strength in her hands gripping his collar slowly gave out.

Sensing it, he drew her firmly against him, a hand sliding into her hair to steady her tilted head.

“Mm…”

A faint moan escaped with the movement of his tongue, deep and insistent, pressing all the way to the root.

As if even that were too precious to waste, Cassion drew in Irynsis’s breath with a rough hunger. The hand cradling her head slid down along her neck and back, caressing the curve of her frail waist.

Her arms, not knowing where else to go, lifted and wound around his shoulders.

Though her body trembled from the heat, what unsettled her most was not the sudden kiss, but the desire she had never known existed—an aching wish to hold him tighter.

He caught the small movement instantly, pulling her up with decisive strength.

Crash.

Something fell, scattering loudly. She had no time to see what it was before he set her down on the now-cleared nightstand.

Their eyes locked at the same height, and sparks flared between them.

“Cassion, I…”

She had only meant to call his name, the sudden urge overwhelming her, but no other words would come.

“Why have you grown so thin?”

His breath brushed over her lips again, her mouth parting without meaning to, and his warmth swept through her senses like fire.

Even with her mouth already full of him, she wanted more.

The hand caressing her shoulder traced her soft curves downward, gripping her waist. His lips trailed along her collar, leaving heat against her skin, until they reached the line of her collarbone.

His hand rose to her chest—then stilled, his breath hot against her skin.

“Nia.”

He straightened, cupping her flushed cheeks with a broad hand. His thumb brushed gently across her reddened lips.

Drawing in a breath as though to steady himself, his gaze locked firmly with hers.

“You don’t have to tell me your real name. Just… will you marry me?”

Her name no longer mattered.

At first, he had been hurt and desperate that she would not trust him, relentless in his pursuit. But now, none of that mattered anymore.

Across countless battlefields, drenched in others’ blood and covering it with his own, only one thought had remained.

‘Nia.’

She was where he belonged.

Each time he swung his sword and watched life drain from his enemy’s eyes, his one, consuming thought was that he had to return to her.

Whether her name was truly Nia or not—he did not care.

Looking down at her trembling blue eyes, Cassion forced a smile to his lips.

“Marriage isn’t even that important, really.”

“…”

He leaned closer, drawing her into his arms. Holding her tightly against him, he whispered urgently at her ear.

“Can’t you say just one word—that you love me?”

If she would give him that, in her own voice, it would be the compass that could never falter, even on a blood-soaked battlefield.

But Irynsis froze, as though struck by lightning.

Sensing her stillness, Cassion only held her silently for a moment. She could not speak. The words turned to stone in her throat, blocking her voice.

At last, as though he had gathered in the storm of his own emotions, he pulled back.

His lips brushed hers softly before falling away.

“I only stopped by. I have to leave again soon.”

Straightening her disheveled clothes, Cassion lifted her into his arms and laid her gently onto the bed. A thick quilt fell over her body.

Even then, Irynsis could not utter a single word.

Cassion smiled faintly, as if he understood.

“I’ll come back. Wait for me.”

With that, he turned and stepped out of the room.

Irynsis stared blankly at the space where he had been, unable even to lie back against the bed, disbelief in her eyes.

Then suddenly, she sprang to her feet. Her unsteady legs stumbled as she rushed for the door—just as she had in her dream.

And in that instant, the dream shattered.

***

“Ha…”

Irynsis opened her eyes, back in reality.

Her breath came quick and shallow, dampening the corners of her eyes.

The weight of the memory—what she most wished to forget, and yet what she never wanted to lose—pressed down heavy upon her.

Before she could even steady her breathing, she bolted from her room, just as she had in the dream.