Chapter 517: Chapter 517

Dusk had fallen over the Estalis camp, blanketing the barracks in a quiet hush. Unlike in the other towns, Azul had a soldiers’ barracks built beside the harbor.

The usual clatter of footsteps and murmured orders had softened to the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the faint crackle of oil lamps casting golden halos against the dark. Most of the soldiers slept early, their steady breaths mingling with the scent of the sea breeze.

A group of reinforcements arrived from the capital of Northem, their banners fluttering briefly before being stowed. Among them, Lara’s eyes caught someone she hadn’t expected to see.

"Bener! What are you doing here? Has your wound... recovered?" Her voice was equal parts surprise and relief.

"Of course," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "Your medicine worked wonders. I couldn’t wait to return." Even as he spoke, his gaze darted around the camp, sharp and alert, as if searching for someone he already knew was here.

A knowing smile curved Lara’s lips. "Shaya is over there." She pointed toward the cluster of medical tents, her gesture almost teasing.

Bener’s steps quickened, eager yet careful, as he made his way toward the makeshift infirmary.

Inside, Shaya was tending to a wounded soldier from the skirmish that had saved Pamela. Her hands moved methodically, wiping blood from bandages, tending bruises, and adjusting poultices with practiced care. Even as she worked, she straightened herbs and cloths on the shelves, though everything was already neatly arranged.

Bener slipped in quietly, leaning against the doorway, watching her with eyes half-lidded but sharp, catching every small motion. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low, teasing.

"You fuss too much," he murmured.

Shaya jumped slightly, then whirled to face him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You... why are you here? Weren’t you recuperating in the Savadra?"

He smiled, a mixture of pride and mischief lighting his tired features. "And why can’t I be here when my father, all my brothers, and even my sister are here? Besides, my wound is healed—thanks to you."

"How could a wound so grave heal so quickly? You should care for your own body!" Her hands hovered over the basket of herbs, worry furrowing her brow.

Bener chuckled softly, a sound warmer and gentler than usual. "It is my body, and I didn’t even complain. Why are you complaining?"

Her fingers stilled over the basket. He stepped closer, reaching for it, and their hands brushed against each other. Heat crept up her neck, and she looked away.

"I am not complaining. I am just wo... I am just reminding you because it is my duty... as a healer," she murmured. Shaya turned around and exited the infirmary, Bener following closely behind. Then he blocked her path.

"Duty," Bener echoed, his voice carrying a bitter edge, though his eyes held steady on hers. He straightened slightly, then met her gaze with unwavering intensity. "Tell me, Shaya... when you took care of me...when you look at me, is that all you see? Duty?"

Her heart faltered, stumbling over the raw honesty in his tone. She searched his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the torch—tired, yes, but beneath that weariness lay something unguarded, something dangerous in its vulnerability.

"You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t ready for the answers to," she whispered, her resolve trembling.

"Try me," he murmured, coaxing, patient yet insistent. "I’ve faced arrows, blades... I can face the truth from your lips."

Her breath hitched. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to retreat into the safety of silence, to deny herself the peril of honesty. But she could not—especially not when he looked at her like that.

"You make it difficult," she admitted, her fingers tightening around the basket handle. "Difficult to think... to breathe... I try to remind myself you’re reckless, stubborn, infuriating... but—" She faltered, shaking her head as if to discard the confession.

"But what?" he pressed, leaning forward despite the faint wince of his healed wound.

She bit her lip, eyes flickering to the ground, then whispered, "But I can’t seem to stay away, to stop thinking of you."

The surrounding fell into a breathless silence. Then Bener laughed—a low, relieved sound, free of mockery. "Finally. I thought I was going mad, thinking I was the only one."

Shaya’s cheeks burned, her eyes narrowing. "You don’t need to look so smug about it."

He smirked, though the sharp edge softened into something warmer. "I’m not smug... I’m grateful." His hand hovered, hesitant, between them. "Shaya..."

Her breath caught. Slowly, almost cautiously, she set the basket down, letting her fingers brush against his. The touch was brief, tentative, yet it sent a shiver through her arm.

"You should rest. You had a long journey," she whispered, withdrawing her hand before courage could fail her completely.

Bener’s smile lingered, gentle and knowing. "If resting means you’ll still be here when I wake... then I will."

Shaya turned away, hiding the flush on her cheeks. Yet even in darkness, she could feel the warmth of his gaze—and for the first time, she didn’t mind.

Her steps quickened, echoing softly against the wooden floors of the barracks, carrying her toward the room she shared with the other ladies. The lanterns flickered, casting long, wavering shadows along the walls, but she barely noticed—her thoughts were elsewhere, urgent, restless.

From the shadows behind a tree, a figure emerged. His shoulders sagged under an invisible weight, each step toward the beach measured and slow, burdened with an air of quiet melancholy. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he moved as if the world around him no longer mattered.

Netser cast a longing look at the back of the woman who had disappeared into the barracks. He went to the infirmary to escort her back, only to witness that scene.

The sight that greeted him froze him in place. Bener and Shaya—so close, so intimate—stood in a private world of their own. He was too far to hear their words, but the subtle tilt of her head, the gentle brush of their hands, the intensity in her gaze—all spoke volumes.

A bitter ache settled in Netser’s heart. He recognized the truth before it was spoken: Shaya’s feelings for this man ran deep, unspoken but undeniable.

Shaya, will I just be an elder brother to you? Why can’t you see how I feel about you? Why did you fall for another man? Updates are released by 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⟡𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚⟡𝘯𝘦𝘵

The questions burned silently within him, echoing louder than any words could, and for the second time, Netser felt the sharp edge of helplessness. First, he lost his family, then he lost the woman he loved.