Kael didn't rush.
Knowing the truth and revealing it were two very different games.
And Kael Riven played the long ones.
Selene Virellia had unknowingly whispered him back to life. He could feel it now with certainty, the way one feels rain before it falls. That same quiet voice in the wind—sharp, warm, not meant to be heard. And yet it had clung to the edge of his fading soul.
So now, he had questions. But asking her directly wasn't his style.
Instead, he showed up.
Once. Casually. No plan.
She was by the dueling courtyard, watching Lucien spar from afar, arms folded with a bored expression carved into marble. Her friends lingered nearby, chatting idly.
Kael stopped a few steps from her. Said nothing.
Selene glanced at him. "...Yes?"
He looked ahead. "Just checking something."
"Checking what?"
He paused. Then, without looking at her, murmured,
"You always watch him like that when he's not looking?"
Selene stiffened slightly.
Kael continued, voice flat: "If you're waiting for him to impress you, you might be here a while."
Her mouth opened—closed again. "That's bold, coming from his... roommate."
Kael gave the faintest shrug. "I don't flatter people just because we share a roof."
She eyed him, caught off guard—not just by the words, but by the way he stood there, calm, indifferent, like he didn't need anything from her.
She turned back to Lucien. "Still doesn't explain why you're standing here."
Kael finally looked at her. "Does it need to?"
And then he walked off.
But it was enough.
The next day, he found her on the veranda after lectures, a book open in her lap and her friends scattered farther down the railing.
"Do you ever finish those?" he asked, nodding at the book.
She glanced up, mildly amused. "You read?"
"Not much," he admitted, leaning on the rail. "But I heard people who do usually close the book when they're done."
She looked at the pages, then at him. "...You've been watching me?"
"No," Kael replied evenly. "I just notice things."
Another pause. Her lips curled, curious now. "So? What is it you noticed this time?"
Kael pointed lazily to the sky. "Clouds are heavy. You didn't bring a cloak again."
Her breath caught for a fraction of a second.
He saw it—just a flicker. Her eyes widened the smallest amount before slipping back into calm.
But Kael didn't press.
Didn't chase.
He just smiled faintly, turned, and walked off again.
Day after day, he continued.
Never asking, never accusing, just appearing — like weather she couldn't predict.
He joined her briefly at the training field, commented on the poor state of the Academy's sword grips. The next day, he brought one freshly wrapped with new leather — not a gift, just "extra."
At lunch, he passed by her table and casually asked, "Still no stew improvement?"
Selene blinked. "...You remember what I said?"
Kael shrugged. "Hard to forget someone insulting meat that boldly."
By the end of the week, Selene Virellia wasn't sure what unnerved her more — the quiet way Kael noticed things no one else did, or the fact that he never lingered long enough for her to get used to it.
And Kael?
Kael was getting closer.
Every conversation, every stray sentence, every unguarded breath — he was listening for that moment. That same subtle echo. The soul behind the voice.
He wouldn't ask her if she saved him.
He already knew she did.
But now, he wanted to know why.