To Love A Villain Chapter 208: My Guard

>>Enya

Ahin agreed

The fire had started to burn low in the hearth, the occasional crack of embers snapping through the silence. I sat in the armchair closest to the warmth, legs curled beneath , picking absentmindedly at a thread on my sleeve. Einar was lounging on the rug, lying on his stomach like he used to when we were younger, chin propped in one hand, his eyes flicking between the door and the flas.

We were waiting.

The room slled of lavender and soap now. The servants had been instructed to prepare fresh clothes and a bath. Einar and I had insisted on it. Since Einar gave the order, the servants had to comply.

The door creaked softly, the handle shifting with hesitation before it opened a fraction. A small head peeked in—pale hair, slightly damp and clinging to the sides of her face. Her eyes, wide and golden, darted into the room, searching.

Rika.

She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in with quiet, deliberate movents. Her dress was slightly too long, brushing against her ankles as she walked. The sleeves drooped past her wrists, and the fabric looked soft, freshly laundered. It was the smallest bit of comfort we could offer her.

But she didn’t look comfortable.

Her hands were clasped together in front of her, and her posture was all tension—shoulders tight, back straight. There was a nervous energy to the way her eyes never settled. Like she was ready to run at the first sudden sound.

Her tail flicked once behind her, and then curled in toward her leg as if she was trying to hide it.

She didn’t say a word.

Neither did I.

I didn’t want to frighten her. Instead, I gave her the gentlest smile I could manage and stayed where I was, letting her co in on her own terms.

But Einar... he moved.

Softly, easily, he rose to his knees and turned to face her, his hands resting on his thighs. "Hello again," he said, his voice smooth and warm, like honey dripped into tea. "You look different. In a good way."

Rika blinked at him, unsure. Her fingers tightened. She didn’t answer. But her gaze stayed on him.

"It’s alright," he said, and sat back fully onto the rug, cross-legged. "I know you’re scared because your brother isn’t here. But think of as your brother too." He smiled at her.

And there’s this thing about Einar’s smile.

It’s enchanting.

A pause. Rika seed to relax but she didn’t move. She simply clutched her dress in nervousness.

Then, in one slow motion, Einar reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled sothing out. A small wooden carving, no bigger than his palm. A fox, with little rounded ears and a curled tail. The detail was rough but charming—he’d made it.

It’s most likely new, since I hadn’t seen it before.

"I used to keep a toy like this in my coat when I got nervous," he said, setting the carving gently on the rug in front of him. "Helps feel brave."

Rika tilted her head slightly, curious despite herself.

He didn’t offer it to her yet. Just left it there between them, like a quiet invitation.

"You know," Einar continued, voice still light but slower now, "Enya and I... we never really fit in here. Not really. Most people think we’re strange." He smiled, looking at briefly. "They’re not wrong."

That got Rika’s attention. She looked between us, studying our faces like she was trying to figure out the punchline.

Einar chuckled softly. "But we’re strange in the right ways. I think you are too."

That made her lower her hands just slightly.

"You don’t have to talk yet," he added quickly, as if sensing she was getting overwheld. "You don’t even have to smile. But if you want to sit... I’d like it if you did."

He patted the space on the rug beside him gently.

Rika looked at the floor.

And then, slowly—so slowly I almost missed it—she stepped forward.

Her bare feet made no sound on the plush carpet. She stopped just short of Einar’s reach and crouched, not quite sitting, not quite leaving.

Einar didn’t move.

He just nudged the little fox carving a tiny bit closer.

She stared at it.

"You can keep it," he said casually, as if it didn’t matter. "He doesn’t bite."

Rika’s fingers hovered in the air. Then, with the kind of caution only children forced to grow up too fast carried, she picked it up.

She held the fox close to her chest, looking down at it with an unreadable expression.

Einar glanced at , a quiet pride in his eyes.

I watched her carefully, and for the first ti since she’d stepped into the room, she wasn’t shrinking into herself.

A mont later, Einar reached behind him and pulled a piece of parchnt from the table. He folded it carefully in his hands—long creases, then smaller ones. Slowly, it began to take shape.

A bird.

She watched the process, transfixed.

"There," he said, placing the paper bird gently on the carpet in front of her. "He’s your fox’s friend now."

Rika blinked.

Then, very softly, a sound escaped her lips.

A tiny giggle.

Barely more than a breath, but it was there.

And it was real.

My heart ached in my chest.

For all she’d lost. For all the fear she still carried. But in that mont, she didn’t look like a prisoner’s sister, or a target, or a werewolf in hiding.

She looked like a child.

Just a little girl who’d been given a fox, a paper bird, and the tiniest sliver of safety.

And sohow, that felt like a beginning.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting gold and amber flickers across the room. Rika was curled near Einar now, the fox carving still in her hands, her small body slowly beginning to relax, her eyes following the paper bird with quiet fascination as Einar made it flap and dance in the air with a wave of his fingers.

For the first ti since they had co, the silence wasn’t heavy.

It was warm.

As Rika played, she paused and looked at both of us. Then she reached out for sothing in her dress pocket and got sothing out. She opened her palm to show us both a star shaped plush.

Oh?

"Is this yours?" Einar asked and she nodded, "Did soone give it to you?" She nodded and then pointed at her heart. Einar gave her a soft smile, "It’s from your mom?"

Rika nodded, then looked at the plush.

Then ca the knock.

It was soft, but firm. A single rap. Nothing frantic, nothing hesitant.

Einar straightened from where he sat on the rug and turned his head. "Co in," he called as Rika put the plush back in her pocket.

The door opened.

And there he stood.

Ahin.

I felt my breath catch before I even realized why.

He was clean now. His skin, which had been dulled with gri and blood and the weight of the dungeons, was now glowing faintly from a fresh wash. His dark hair, damp still at the ends, had been pushed back from his face, revealing the sharp lines of his jaw and the quiet strength in his eyes.

He wore a crisp uniform—dark gray, with silver accents at the cuffs and collar, tailored closely to his fra. Not the prison rags from before. Not even commoner’s wear. This was formal, made for a guard of rank.

And it fit him.

It fit him a bit too well.

For a mont, I couldn’t reconcile the man standing in the doorway with the one I’d seen hanging in that dark cell

He looked regal now.

No—commanding.

And sohow, even more dangerous.

I stared.

My fingers curled around the armrest of the chair without aning to, a strange flutter tightening in my chest.

It was stupid, really. I wasn’t the sort of woman who swooned over appearances, not after what I’d seen of n with beautiful faces and venomous hearts.

But this wasn’t only about beauty.

It was the steadiness in his stance. The way his gaze imdiately found Rika before anything else, softening at the sight of her. And then—only then—turning to .

That was what took my breath away.

His eyes. That deep, unreadable quiet in them. Like he carried too many mories for soone his age.

Like he was a soldier, and sothing more as well.

"Ahin," I said, and my voice ca out smaller than I intended. "You... you cleaned up well."

That was all I could manage.

Einar let out a soundless whistle beside . "You look good," he said under his breath, amused. "Didn’t think we’d brought a knight in with us."

Rika perked up at the sound of Ahin’s voice, her eyes lighting up, and she ran to him with that clumsy joy only children could have. She bumped against his leg, hugging him without words.

He rested a hand on her head, and sothing in his shoulders eased.

I rose slowly from my seat, trying to calm the sudden heat in my face.

I hadn’t expected this.

I hadn’t expected him to look so handso!

"I wasn’t sure if you’d co back," I said without even thinking. What the hell did I just say!?

His eyes t mine again. "I said I’d guard you, didn’t I?"

Oh right. This was whole my head idea! Why did I even say that!??! I’m getting flustered over nothing!!

Calm down Enya!!!

Einar noticed my turmoil but he rely smiled and looked away.

The room grew still again, but this ti it wasn’t awkward—it was sothing else. Like the first notes of a song hanging in the air before they found their lody.

Einar stood too, brushing off his pants with exaggerated dramatics. "Well," he said, "now that we’ve got our gallant protector in full uniform, I suppose the palace will think twice before crossing us."

Ahin didn’t respond to the joke.

His gaze lingered on .

And I felt the weight of it—like sothing unspoken was being passed between us.

Understanding. Distance. Maybe even the beginning of trust.

I swallowed. "There’s a lot we need to plan. A lot of danger still ahead when you leave. But here you’ll be safe"

He nodded at my words, "Even if I’m not safe, I have chosen to trust your words."

!!

My heart beat faster, but I kept my face composed. "Then welco back," I said, offering a small smile. "Bodyguard."

He gave a faint tilt of his head. "My lady."

!!!!!

I didn’t know what to say to that. But him calling ’My Lady’ made my heart flip like crazy!!!