(Rosaline's POV)
I watched him from behind a stone pillar.
The morning light filtered softly through the courtyard, gilding the edges of the stables in pale gold. From this distance, everything looked peaceful. Almost idyllic. If I did not know better, I would have thought this was simply another quiet morning in a noble estate.
But I did know better.
Vlad stood near the stable doors, broom in hand, his movements steady and efficient. He worked without pause, without complaint, as though this had always been his place. As though he had never once stood at the head of an army, a banner behind him, fire in his eyes.
As though he had never been Vladford Heathfield.
My fingers curled slowly against the stone.
He didn't look at the manor.
He didn't look toward the main road.
He didn't look toward the future.
He looked at the ground.
Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I had saved him.
That was what everyone said.
