Chapter 97: A Strange Mark

The return to the palace was nothing like their journey into the Expanse. They rode out before the sun had fully risen, the camp already stripped down by the knights working with silent urgency. No one complained, not even the younger ones who usually found something to gripe about.

The lingering weight of the mist clung to them still, sitting on shoulders and breath alike. Levan did not allow it to linger, he set a steady pace, firm but not harsh, keeping Ilaria close to the center of the formation.

The first day passed without incident. The terrain shifted from pale, bone-like trees back to old forests coloured by earth and moss. Still, no one relaxed. Ilaria felt it too, the sensation of being watched. Not by beasts, but by memory itself.

She did not speak of it, and Levan never asked, though she often caught him glancing her way as if making sure she had not drifted too far into thought.

On the second day, they reached a small town at the crossroads. What should have been a brief supply check stretched longer; news, reports, letters from the capital that all needed Levan’s supervision. Ilaria waited in the inn’s modest hall, sipping warm broth while watching rain gather against the windows.

The locals whispered about the returning royal patrol, but their curious tones faded whenever Levan stepped through the room. He moved with the same composed aura as always, but Ilaria noticed the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his fingers brushed the cuff of his sleeve, checking the sigil, checking her.

By late afternoon, the rain had thickened into sheets that swallowed the road whole. Still, Ilaria tugged her cloak tighter and said, “We can keep going. It’s just rain.”

Levan did not even entertain it. “We’re not riding through that. Not with you.”

“I can handle rain—”

“It’s not about the rain,” he said, shutting the inn door behind them as another gust slammed it. “Let the storm pass.”

And so they rested for the night, though Ilaria suspected it was less about weather and more about him refusing to rush her through exhaustion. When they rode again the next morning, the sky was washed clean, bright and blue.

By the third day, the palace walls rose on the horizon like a familiar promise. The guards opened the gates immediately, relief washing across their faces as they bowed. The courtyard bustled with activity, stablehands rushing to take the horses, attendants hurrying with reports, advisors hovering with urgent expressions.

Ilaria barely had time to swing a leg off her horse before a blur of brown hair and worried expression barreled into her. “Mel—”

“Your Highness!” Melyn cried, arms wrapping around her with surprising strength. “You’re safe— Saints, you’re safe— don’t ever leave me for that long again, I thought—”

“Melyn,” Ilaria wheezed, still locked in a rib-crushing embrace, “I need to breathe if you want me alive for the next hour.”

Melyn pulled back at once, wiping her face with her sleeve before flicking Ilaria’s forehead lightly.

“Ow!”

“That’s for making me worry. Three days in the Expanse, three more to return— my heart has aged twenty years.”

“Well, you look exactly the same,” Ilaria teased, rubbing her forehead although it was not painful.

“That’s because stress preserves me,” Melyn retorted. “Like salted fish.”

Ilaria snorted, then winced when her lower back protested. Melyn’s amusement vanished. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine—”

“You’re folding like a dried leaf.”

Ilaria opened her mouth to argue, but a quiet presence behind her made her pause. She did not even need to turn as she felt him. The subtle shift of air, the warmth of his gaze settling on her like a cloak.

She turned slowly.

Levan was standing a few paces away, still in travel leathers, damp from the morning mist. His eyes were not on the bustling courtyard or the cluster of advisors hovering anxiously nearby, they were fixed entirely on her. Assessing. Reading. Worrying, even if his expression stayed perfectly composed.

He took in the dramatic reunion between the two, frowning as he looked at her and the stallion behind. “You didn’t even wait for me before jumping down the horse.”

“Well, everyone else did too…” she trailed off, suddenly nervous, “…and there’s no harm done.”

“Yes,” Levan replied, stepping closer, “but a night of rain, a week of interrupted sleep, and that stubborn streak of yours is already enough to wear down your body, you’ll only exhaust yourself more if you keep doing things like that.”

Melyn, sensing the shift into the marital domain respectfully excused herself. “I… will go prepare a bath, and maybe tea, and possibly a miracle worker.” She started edging backwards.

Ilaria reached out weakly. “Wait—”

“Don’t worry about her,” Levan said gently, fingers brushing her elbow to drift her attention back to him.

The moment he touched her, her muscles that was tense from riding seemed to melt. She swayed before she could stop herself. Levan’s hand slid instinctively to the small of her back, steadying her. His thumb pressed just beneath the ridge of her spine.

Ilaria inhaled sharply. That spot had been aching for hours, and he had found it in an instant.

Melyn froze mid-step, expression blank as carved stone.

Levan did not look at her. He did not even seem to remember anyone else existed at all.

“You’re sore. Tell me where.”

“This is fine,” Ilaria whispered, breath trembling as his fingers worked a small, precise massage. “I’ll go back in shape in a few hours.”

He did not buy it. He continued a moment longer enough to ease the tension, not enough to draw attention, although it absolutely did. Several guards were pretending not to stare. A few failed spectacularly.

Levan finally withdrew his hand, though reluctantly.

“I have to meet with the council,” he said, eyes still on her. “They’ll want an immediate briefing.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“And,” he went on, softening the edge of command, “once that’s done, you and I will review the entire expedition together.”

She blinked. “With… me?”

“You were there,” he replied simply. “Your insight matters.”

Her chest warmed at the sincerity in his tone. The memory of his brusqueness back then made her realize how much he did not want her to feel left out. He had felt guilty for how he had spoken to her before, and now this… this was his quiet way of making it right.

“I… could come with you to the council?” she ventured, hope flickering in her voice.

Levan’s brow furrowed immediately, a small shadow of a frown crossing his face. “No,” he said. “The knights don’t need to see you. And I won’t have anyone questioning why you’re present.”

She let out a small sigh, half disappointed but not hurt, because the warmth in his words made it clear he was not shutting her out for lack of trust, he was only protecting her.

He reached for her hand again, squeezing gently, grounding her. “But afterwards… we review everything together. Every detail. You’ll have your say, I promise.”

She smiled softly, a mixture of relief and affection. “I like that,” she whispered.

He dipped his head close enough that only she could hear. “Go rest, Aria. I’ll come to you when I’m done.”

Just as he began to step back, her fingers curled lightly around the edge of his sleeve. Not enough to pull him, just enough for him to pause.

“Husband…”

He looked back at once.

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm her cheeks felt. “Um… would it be alright if I…” Her gaze slipped away in embarrassment. “If I slept in your room?”

His expression did not shift dramatically; Levan was never one for big reactions. He did not tease her, did not ask why, and he did not make it awkward. He simply nodded. “Of course.”

The simplicity of it all made her breath wobble.

“We shared a tent for days, you don’t need to ask.”

“I just didn’t want to assume,” she whispered.

“You can,” he said. And though his tone stayed even, something incredibly gentle threaded through the words. “Always.”

Her heart gave a traitorous flutter, far too loud in her chest.

Levan stepped back then, though his gaze lingered for another heartbeat longer than necessary. Only when he finally turned toward his approaching advisors did the world around them seem to resume moving again, noise rushing back in like a tide.

Steam curled around the marble walls, softening the lamplight into a warm haze. The palace bath was vast compared to the cramped metal tub she had used in the field, and the sight of it alone made Ilaria’s shoulders sag in relief.

Melyn fluttered around her like an anxious sparrow.

“You look half-dead,” Melyn muttered as she poured fragrant oil into the water. “No offense, Your Highness.”

“None taken,” Ilaria laughed, sinking onto the edge of the bath as Melyn tested the temperature with quick, practiced fingers. “I feel half-dead.”

“That’s what happens when you go traipsing into cursed wildernesses with soldiers instead of staying where normal people stay, indoors and alive.”

Ilaria snorted. “I was indoors. In a tent counts.”

Melyn stared at her. “A tent counts as ’indoors’ the same way a leaf counts as a roof.”

Ilaria laughed harder, a sound that eased something in her chest. Melyn helped unfasten the clasps of Ilaria’s outer robe, fingers gentle but scolding at every little bruise she spotted.

“Look at you,” she muttered, “you come back with dirt on your face, circles under your eyes, and a husband who looks like someone tried to chew on his patience for three days straight.”

Ilaria blinked. “Levan looked like that?”

“Like a kicked wolf,” Melyn said flatly. “And then when he saw you he just—” She waved a hand, grumbling. “His entire face changed I nearly gagged. The two of you are ridiculous.”

Ilaria flushed. “We were just tired.”

“Mm-hm,” Melyn said, clearly not believing a word.

Ilaria nudged her with an elbow. “You missed me.”

“Absolutely not,” Melyn lied immediately. Then quieter, “A little maybe… don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Ilaria whispered, smiling warmly.

The smile made Melyn roll her eyes and soften all at once.

“Get in the water before you fall over,” she said, gesturing.

Ilaria stepped into the bath and let herself sink slowly beneath the warmth until it embraced her fully from the neck down. Her muscles finally loosened, her lungs easing as if they had been held tight for days.

Melyn watched her a moment, satisfied. “I’ll fetch clean clothes and prepare the bed. Call if you need me.”

Ilaria lifted a dripping hand to wave her off. “I will.”

“And don’t—” Melyn pointed a stern finger. “Don’t fall asleep in the bath. If you drown after everything I’ll revive you just to yell at you.”

“Understood, Melyn~” Ilaria giggled.

Melyn disappeared through the doorway with a final suspicious glance, leaving Ilaria alone with the soft ripple of water and her own breathing. For the first time in days, quiet settled over her.

The bath cradled her like a warm cocoon, easing the tension from her shoulders, unraveling the exhaustion knotted deep in her spine. She let her head rest against the cool stone rim, eyes fluttering closed.

She could almost forget the beasts. The screaming. The fear clinging to the back of her mind and the nightmare.

Almost.

A slow exhale slipped from her lips, and she tipped her arm above the water, letting droplets slide down her skin. The lamplight gleamed softly across the healed area on her arm, the place the beast had licked her before Levan reached her.

The wound had sealed days ago. Her power had seen to that. But now—

Her breath caught.

A faint shimmer pulsed beneath the surface of her skin, a mark no wider than a fingertip but glowing faintly like embers smothered under ash. It was not painful, nor warm. And it was not her healing. It was not anything she recognized. The glow flickered once like something responding to her heartbeat.

Ilaria sat up slowly, water spilling down her arms, her pulse quickening as she stared at the mark that should not exist.

“…What…?” she whispered to no one.

The steam thickened around her, still warm, still safe yet suddenly the bath felt colder. And the mark, faint but unmistakable, pulsed again.

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