The candle had burned to a stump by the time the first light crept across the windowpane. I sat at the small writing desk in my chamber, the page before me blank, save for a single inkblot in the corner where my hand had hesitated too long.
I had not slept.
Outside, the house was quiet. The kind of quiet that comes just before a storm, though the sky was clear.
I rose, fastening the last buckle on my coat with fingers that trembled more than I would like to admit. The air had turned cold as though something unseen had shifted. Time was folding in on me.
They were closer now.
I could feel it in the way the birds had gone silent at dawn, in the silence of the trees beyond the house. Those who hunted my kind moved with purpose and they had found my trail again.
I had lingered too long.
But she had smiled yesterday not out of obligation or fear and that was enough.
I stepped into the hallway and descended the stairs with careful, deliberate steps. My sword hung at my side, though I had no intention of using it today. Not unless I was forced to do so.
I left quickly down the path that led to Rose's home. It was located not too far from the village I currently lived in.
I saw it before me, her little cottage and the smoke coming our from the chimney meant that its occupants were awake at this hour of the morning.
I entered the kitchen which was warm with the scent of bread baking and the sweet smell of honey.
Her mother glanced up from her kneading, eyes narrowing slightly as though she sensed I brought with me some unspoken form of misfortune.
"Is Rose awake?" I asked her gently.
"She's in the herb garden outside, I believe," she replied, wiping flour from her hands.
"May I speak with her?" I asked. "It is… urgent."
She studied me for a long breath before nodding. "You may."
I found Rose in the small herb garden just beyond the kitchen. She was crouched near the thyme, plucking sprigs into a small basket. Her hair was unbound, falling over one shoulder like gold spun silk in the morning sun.
She turned at the sound of my approach and stood.
"Sir Ivar," she greeted, brushing her hands on her skirts. "You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep," I said. "Nor could I wait another day."
Her brow lifted slightly. She said nothing but the air between us held still.
"There are things I have yet to tell you," I continued. "But I ask that for now that you trust me, even if only for a little longer."
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But she didn't pull away when I stepped closer.
"Today I would ask for your hand in marriage, Rose."
"Today?" she echoed, startled.
I nodded. "There are… reasons I cannot deny. I know it is sudden and I do not ask for love, not yet but I do ask for your trust. There are forces stirring that do not wish me well. I would not have them touch you."
Her lips parted, the basket in her hands forgotten on the ground beside her.
"I do not mean to frighten you," I added quickly. "But there are truths that will become clearer in time. For now, all you need to know is this: you are not a pawn in this. You are my choice and if you say yes, I will protect you with everything that I am."
A long silence stretched between us, filled with the hush of morning.
Then, slowly, she nodded. Her voice was quiet but steady.
"Then let us be wed, Sir Ivar."
Something eased in my chest, just for a moment.
I wanted to kiss her then, not with passion but with relief and gratitude.
But I did not. There were rituals yet to complete, vows to speak, and secrets still buried too deep in my bones.
Instead, I reached out and took her hand in mine.
"Thank you," I whispered. "You won't regret it."
She didn't smile but there was trust in her gaze and perhaps… something more like wonder and curiosity.
I would tell her everything.
Just not yet.
Not until she was safe.
Not until she had become like me.