Chapter 13: Chapter 12: Father And Daughter

The door creaked shut behind them as Lucien stepped out into the morning air.

The scent of chamomile and herbs still clung faintly to his cloak. But the warmth he’d felt inside was already fading.

He walked quietly down the narrow stone path, ivy brushing his shoulder where it curled along the old wooden fence.

He didn’t say a word.

He just needed space.

Cassian followed a few steps behind, silent as always.

The wind had picked up a little—cooler now. It carried the sharp scent of sea salt.

Lucien had hoped the air would clear his head.

It didn’t.

They kept walking until the houses fell behind them and the trees gave way to an open field—wide, quiet, empty.

There, Lucien stopped.

Hands in his cloak pockets. Eyes on the distant sky, where the hills touched the sea.

But Mira’s voice was still in his head.

Her words. Her certainty. The way she looked at him—calm, clear, unshaken.

No fear. No flattery.

Just honesty.

And it hit deeper than he expected.

Behind him, Cassian finally spoke.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said, voice soft. “That she doesn’t want to go to the capital.”

Lucien didn’t answer, but he turned slightly.

Cassian stood with his hands behind his back, watching the horizon. “The court’s already uneasy with your return. If another S-class shows up beside you…”

He trailed off for a moment. “It would break the balance.”

Lucien said nothing.

Cassian continued, his tone quiet but firm. “And don’t forget—the Temple of Light already has a Saintess. The ‘one and only,’ they call her. Chosen. Pure. Holy.”

A pause.

“And engaged to your brother, Damian—the Crown Prince.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched.

Cassian’s gaze didn’t move. “Imagine what they’d do if a second Saintess appeared. It would be total chaos.”

Lucien didn’t have to imagine. He knew.

He looked back toward the workshop tucked behind trees and ivy, his mood heavy.

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“She’s smart to stay where she is,” Cassian added. “Smarter than most nobles I’ve ever met.”

Lucien’s voice came low. “And yet…”

“She’s wasted out here?” Cassian finished. “Yes. Maybe.”

A quiet beat passed. The wind stirred again, tugging lightly at their cloaks.

“But better to be wasted and free,” Cassian added, “than dragged into chaos and devoured by power.”

Lucien said nothing.

His gaze lingered on the hidden workshop, now just a faint outline in the trees.

Mira hadn’t asked for anything.

Hadn’t asked for him.

And somehow, that hurt more than if she had...

Meanwhile, from the workshop doorway, Mira and her father watched them go.

Lucien and Cassian disappeared slowly down the stone path, their figures shrinking until the woods swallowed them completely.

The wind stirred the ivy along the fence—the same breeze that had caught Lucien’s cloak a moment ago.

Her hands were still warm from the teacup.

But her chest felt… quiet. Like something had been stirred, then gently set aside.

Behind her, Garron’s arms were no longer crossed. His expression unreadable.

He stood beside her in the doorway, watching the trees sway where the two men had vanished.

Then, after a long moment, he asked without looking at her, “I know we’ve had this conversation before, but… are you sure you don’t want to go to the capital?”

Mira didn’t answer right away. She glanced up at Garron. His tone hadn’t been pushing—just curious. Just... quiet.

“I’m sure,” she said softly.

Garron looked down at her. “He’s right, you know. About you being more.”

Mira nodded. “I know.”

“And you still don’t want to go?” he added. “You don’t owe this town anything, Mira. And you certainly don’t need to worry about me and your mother. Go live your life.”

Mira gave a faint smile. “I am living my life, Father. And I love it.”

Garron tilted his head, not convinced. “You don’t feel like you’re wasting yourself here?”

She thought about that.

Not just the question, but the deeper layer beneath it.

She turned her eyes back to the path. The wind whispered through the trees, brushing against her braid.

“Maybe to some, it looks like wasting,” she said. “But to me… I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Garron smiled and patted her head. “That’s my girl.”

His hand stayed there for a moment longer, rough palm warm against her hair.

Then he gave her braid a little tug.

“Let’s go home,” he said gently. “Your mother’s probably worried about you.”

Mira let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I can imagine she’s sitting on the porch right now, staring in our direction.”

He smiled. “Which would be mostly true.”

They stepped away from the doorway, the wind easing as the workshop door creaked shut behind them.

Outside, the early light had turned golden. Sunlight spilled across the dew-covered path as the town slowly stirred to life.

“The prince wasn’t what I expected,” Garron said, hands behind his back as they walked.

Mira looked up at him. “How did you expect him?”

“Taller. Sharper. Less… lost,” he said after a moment.

Mira hummed, thoughtful. “He’s still a prince.”

“Yes. But I think he’s also just a boy who got pushed into a bigger world.”

Mira didn’t answer, but her smile said she understood.

They passed by a patch of wildflowers blooming by the fence. Mira plucked one—a small yellow bloom—and tucked it behind her ear.

Her father noticed and chuckled. “You always did that when you were little.”

“I still like flowers,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “And I hope you always will.”

They walked in silence for a while, their footsteps light on the soft dirt road.

The village rooftops came into view again. Red tiles, curling smoke, the soft shape of home.

“I don’t regret staying,” Mira said quietly, almost to herself.

Garron glanced at her. “And if the world comes knocking?”

She smiled. “Then I’ll answer the door. But on my own terms.”

He gave a pleased nod. “Fair deal.”

They turned down the hill toward the cobbled path that led to their home.

The sea stretched beyond the cliffs in the distance, blue and bright beneath the morning sun.

And at the end of the road, nestled between the tall tree and its swaying branches, stood the little red-roofed cottage.

Their home.

As they reached the gate, Mira looked up at her father one last time.

“I’m glad we had this walk together, Father,” she said.

Garron ruffled her hair. “Always.”

And with that, they stepped inside the gate, the world behind them growing quiet once more.

Just father and daughter, heading home.

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