Lyra didn't realize how exhausting courage was until she was alone again.
Her room felt too quiet after the council chamber—too still, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands resting in her lap, staring at nothing while the echo of watching eyes replayed in her mind.
Show us what you are becoming.
The words lingered like a weight.
A soft knock broke the silence.
She looked up, heart jumping. "Yes?"
Kael entered slowly, closing the door behind him. His expression was unreadable—not cold, not warm. Careful.
"You shouldn't be alone right now," he said.
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. "I didn't know where else to go."
"That's all right," he replied. "You came back to yourself. That counts."
She smiled faintly, then frowned. "They didn't look angry."
"No," he agreed. "That worries me more."
Lyra tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because anger is honest. Interest is calculating."
She absorbed that quietly.
After a moment, she asked, "Did I do what they wanted?"
He shook his head. "You did something better."
"What?"
"You showed them they can't control you by fear."
Her fingers curled into the blanket. "I was afraid."
"Yes," he said. "And you didn't let it make the decision."
That thought seemed to surprise her.
"I didn't," she whispered.
He watched her carefully, then said, "There's something you should know."
Her chest tightened. "That doesn't sound good."
"It's not bad," he said, choosing his words. "But it matters."
She nodded. "Tell me."
"The elders have assigned you an observer."
Her breath hitched. "A guard?"
"No," he said. "A liaison. Someone meant to advise… and report."
Lyra hugged her arms around herself. "So I'm not trusted."
"You are," he said immediately. "What they don't trust is what you represent."
She stared at the floor. "I don't want to be watched like a threat."
"You're not a threat," he said firmly. "But power changes how people look at you."
She hesitated. "Does it change how you look at me?"
The question was small. Vulnerable.
He answered without hesitation. "No."
She looked up, searching his face.
"If anything," he continued quietly, "it makes me more careful."
"With me?" she asked.
"With myself," he corrected.
Her cheeks warmed, though she wasn't entirely sure why.
Silence settled again—not uncomfortable this time, but thoughtful.
"Kael?" she said.
"Yes."
"Why do you stay so close?" she asked softly. "You don't have to. You're busy. You're… important."
He leaned back against the wall, arms folding loosely. "Because proximity matters."
"To who?"
"To someone who's been alone too long," he said simply.
Her throat tightened. "I don't know how to repay that."
"You don't owe me anything," he replied. "Just honesty."
She nodded slowly. "Then… can I be honest?"
"Always."
"I'm scared that one day you'll look at me and decide I'm too much trouble."
The words trembled as they left her mouth.
His jaw tightened—not with anger, but restraint.
"That won't happen," he said.
"You can't promise that," she whispered.
"I can," he said quietly. "Because if that day ever comes, it won't be because of you."
She didn't fully understand, but the conviction in his voice steadied her.
Later that evening, the observer arrived.
A woman this time—tall, composed, eyes sharp but not cruel.
"I'm Mara," she said, offering Lyra a polite nod. "I'm here to help you adjust."
Lyra forced a smile. "I'm adjusting… slowly."
Mara's gaze flicked briefly to Kael, then back. "That's often the strongest way."
As night fell, Lyra stood at the window again, watching patrols pass below.
"I didn't expect to matter," she said softly.
Kael stood beside her—not touching, but close enough that she felt the steadiness of him.
"Most people who change the world don't," he replied.
She hugged her arms around herself. "I don't want to change it."
"That's all right," he said. "Sometimes the world changes itself when it meets someone gentle."
Her eyes burned slightly. "I don't feel gentle."
"You are," he said. "Even when you're afraid."
She believed him.
And that belief—quiet, unassuming—was exactly what the watching forces beyond the borders underestimated.