’Do you?’
He looked up to the ceiling as if asking the stars to grant him patience. Then he shut his eyes and said, "Oh Lord, yes."
Thalia let out a strangled laugh, half in disbelief, half in grief. Then she sniffled, wiping the edge of her eye with the back of her hand.
"To take to the king?" she asked bitterly. "So you can hunt the rest of us down?"
Sebastian t her eyes with a silent intensity that made her heart stutter.
"I’m just a maid, Sebastian. But I will stop you with everything I have before you ever lay a hand on my lord and lady."
He stepped forward slightly, chest rising with a quiet exhale.
"Damsel... no. I apologize. We started on the wrong side of our characters."
She raised a brow, deadpan. "I was fine. You’re the hunter."
He winced. "Fair." He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly unraveling. "So... will you tell your na?" he asked quietly, as if asking for forgiveness with the question.
She tilted her head. "Why should I?"
"So I can apologize properly," he said with a small, dry laugh. "Damsel, I may have started out hunting you and your people, but not anymore. I swear it."
She folded her arms, lips tight. "I don’t trust you."
"Then tell your na... and however you think I can prove myself—earn your trust. Your faith. Your love," he added quietly, but with conviction.
Thalia’s eyes widened. "Love?" she scoffed. "It’s far too early, Sebastian. You’re not even sure."
He stepped closer. "I am sure," he said, low and rough. "I’ve never been more certain of anything in my damned life."
There was silence.
Then, gently, almost reluctantly, she whispered,
"My na is Thalia."
She tightened his coat around herself, burying her hands in the too-long sleeves like armor.
"Thalia Hamilton," she added, finally.
Sebastian blinked, surprised. "That’s a beautiful na. But... rather posh, isn’t it? You sound like soone born in velvet, not scrubbing castle floors."
Thalia’s smile was small, distant. "My stepmother made sure I had nothing after my father died. I had to find my own way, and the castle seed less cruel than ho." She paused, her voice softening. "It wasn’t—until I t my lord and lady. They saved ."
Sebastian’s expression softened. "I’m glad you found them."
Thalia studied him. "How do you intend to earn my forgiveness?"
"Not exactly forgiveness," he murmured, "I haven’t wronged you yet. But I hope to earn your trust—and your hopeful eyes." His tone was almost reverent.
She watched him for a beat longer, then said, "Help find them. My lord and lady. Warn them about the hunters. I have a terrible feeling they haven’t heard."
"You don’t think I’ll turn on you?"
"No," she said with a smirk. "Because they’ll be too much for you to handle. I trust them."
Sebastian gave a breathless chuckle. "Lovely. But you do realize Broken Knight over there can’t co with us, right?" He gestured toward Heappal with a nod.
"What?" Thalia’s brow furrowed. "He can’t?"
"We can’t wait seven days for him to heal. That’s how long he’ll need, and even then, he’ll barely stand." Sebastian crossed his arms, serious now. "We have to leave at dawn."
Her eyes widened. "At dawn?"
He nodded. "First light."
She sighed dramatically. "Yes, sir!" she said, throwing a mock salute.
Sebastian laughed, genuinely this ti. The sound bounced off the stone walls like music in the gloom.
He looked at her again, and this ti he didn’t try to hide how he felt.
The physician—a wiry man with silver-threaded hair and eyes soft with wisdom—watched them with quiet understanding. His long robes swept the stone floor as he moved, tending to Heappal with experienced hands.
"You’ve had a long night," he finally said, turning to Thalia and Sebastian. "There’s hot stew on the hearth. And a bath, if you want it. The rooms upstairs are modest but warm."
Thalia blinked at him, surprised by the kindness.
"Thank you," she said softly, voice cracking from exhaustion. "Truly."
Sebastian gave a slow nod. "We’ll take it."
The bath was more than water—it was rcy.
Thalia sank into the warmth, letting the blood, gri, and fear lt from her skin.
For a while, she just sat there, eyes closed, feeling the quiet soak into her bones. She hadn’t realized how heavy her body felt until the weight began to lift.
Later, in a thick borrowed robe and with her damp hair wrapped in a towel, she found a simple wooden table in the kitchen where Sebastian already sat.
Two bowls of stew were stead between them. His hair was wet too, darker than usual, and his rough features looked softer in the glow of the low lantern light.
He looked up when she entered. "Didn’t think you’d be long," he said, pushing a bowl toward her. "But I’m still surprised you can look that clean."
She gave him a wry smile and dropped into the chair across from him.
"Didn’t think you’d wait."
"I told you," he murmured, spoon halfway to his mouth. "You’ve got wrapped around your little finger."
They ate in silence after that. Not awkward, not heavy—just quiet. Like their bodies needed the silence more than their mouths needed questions.
When Thalia finally curled beneath a warm wool blanket in the small guest room upstairs, her last thought before sleep was not about the danger still out there.
It was of Sebastian’s voice calling her na.
By morning, the sun barely crept through the curtains when Thalia rose and crept downstairs. The fire had gone low, the embers glowing faint red.
Heappal still hadn’t stirred.
He lay pale and motionless on the bed the physician had prepared, his breathing shallow but steady.
Bandages wrapped tight across his abdon, faint stains of blood seeping through.
The physician stood nearby, arms folded as he watched the knight with a furrowed brow.
"He’s strong," the man said gently as Thalia stepped closer. "But his body is buying ti it doesn’t have. He needs rest. A lot of it."
Thalia nodded slowly, heart sinking. "He didn’t deserve this."
"No one does," the physician said. Then added, "But so survive it."
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