Chapter 23 : Unspoken Bonds
685 Words
The morning air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. A soft golden glow touched the treetops as the sun slowly rose, its light filtering through the mist that still lingered over the garden paths. Everything felt still, quiet—like the world was holding its breath.
Devorah walked beside Sean, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps blending into the hush of dawn. She stole a glance at him—his hair still a mess, his clothes slightly disheveled. He looked like someone who had been yanked straight from sleep and thrown into the wild.
A slow, teasing smirk curled her lips. “So…” she started casually, “why’d you pat Becky on the head like that?”
Sean, still stretching his arms, gave her a blank look. “What?”
“You know,” she continued, mimicking the motion. “Pat, pat.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’re not exactly friends.”
Devorah hummed, tilting her head. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Sean exhaled, looking away for a moment, as if debating whether to answer. Finally, he said, “She’s just… someone I grew up with. She’s always been around the palace.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t like seeing her hurt.”
Devorah studied him. There was something unspoken in his tone—something softer than he probably realized.
“Not friends, but you care,” she said.
Sean scoffed. “Care is a strong word.”
“Yet,” she mused, “you ran out here, hair looking like an actual bird’s nest, in nothing but your pajamas, because you thought she was in trouble.”
Sean shot her a flat look. “You talk too much.”
Devorah grinned. “I also think too much. And right now, I think you have a secret soft spot.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration—only making it worse.
Devorah bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Oh no,” she said dramatically, “don’t bother fixing it. It’s beyond saving.”
Sean sighed heavily. “It wasn’t this bad before I met you.”
“Liar,” she said immediately. “It’s always been bad. No one’s been brave enough to tell you.”
He huffed. “And yet, here you are.”
“Oh, you love it,” she teased, nudging his arm lightly.
Sean didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and, without warning, softly punched her shoulder.
Devorah blinked. Then scoffed. “Did you just—”
Sean looked completely unbothered. “What?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”
Before he could react, she reached up and flicked his forehead—a quick, precise tap.
Sean winced, rubbing the spot. “You do realize I’m royalty, right?”
Devorah feigned deep thought. “Oh? And?” She smirked. “What, you gonna throw me in the dungeons?”
“I should,” he muttered, but there was no real irritation in his voice.
She tilted her head playfully. “Go ahead. I’ll escape in under a minute.”
Sean sighed dramatically. “Of course you would.”
She chuckled, and for a brief moment, there was only the sound of their footsteps against the stone path, the rustling leaves above them, the soft hum of the world waking up.
Then Sean spoke, his voice quieter than before. “You really think I have a soft spot?”
Devorah glanced at him, noting the way he wasn’t quite looking at her, as if the question had slipped out before he could stop it.
She smiled—just a little. “I know you do.”
Sean exhaled, shaking his head. “You really talk too much.”
Devorah only laughed.
The manor came into view, bathed in the golden light of dawn. Everything felt peaceful, the air warm with something unspoken between them—something soft, something that neither of them were ready to name just yet.
And for now, that was enough.
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- Writer
