The Enemy Appears Again

“My Lord, you cannot treat a lady the same way you treat a knight.”

Maxim’s tone was calm, respectful, but firm.

Rayan didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the closed door to Aria’s room.

But Maxim understood that silence. His master was blaming him.

If you hadn’t left your sword out… she wouldn’t have touched it. I wouldn’t have scolded her. She wouldn’t have cried.

Maxim sighed inwardly at the absurdity of it, but he let it go. He’d seen men twist logic under the weight of emotions before and Rayan, whether he realized it or not, was deep in it now.

As the elder, Maxim remained patient.

“A woman’s heart isn’t like ours,” he said gently. “She wishes to know why you were angry… and to hear that it won’t happen again.”

Rayan didn’t answer, but Maxim could see it in his eyes—he was listening.

Satisfied, Maxim picked up his sword and walked away. Rayan stood alone, staring again at the door.

Guilt gnawed at him.

'She saved my life. Gave us shelter. Healed me. And I made her cry.'

That wasn’t how a knight should act.

And worse—he still needed her help.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. Tristan and Magnus appeared, tension radiating from both of them.

“My Lord,” Tristan said, urgency sharp in his voice.

Rayan turned to face them, his expression hardening.

“We found five Ulrik soldiers on the hill,” Tristan reported. “They were scouting for us. Magnus and I eliminated them, but…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

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More would come.

Rayan’s eyes darkened. He knew beforehand only that they couldn't stay any longer. Ulrik soldiers had followed him to the hill. Although he eliminated all of them at that time, more would have surely come to find their traces.

As Maxim, Eden, and Lenn joined them in the courtyard, silence fell. The air felt heavy with tension.

Rayan gave his order.

“We leave.”

.

.

.

Aria sat on her bed, staring blankly ahead.

She had stopped crying but her heart felt heavy.

She missed her grandmother. The grief, which had slowly dulled over the past few days, surged back all at once.

“Never leave the hill, Aria.”

“People out there are not like us.”

The same warnings, repeated countless times, now echoed through her thoughts. Her grandmother had never explained what made the outside world so dangerous—only that it was.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking of Rayan.

He was from that world. So were the others.

A knock broke her reverie.

She looked up, startled.

“Aria,” came Rayan’s voice from the other side.

Her body tensed.

After a pause, she climbed down from the bed and slowly opened the door.

She didn’t look at him.

Rayan’s eyes flicked over her bowed head. He hadn’t seen her face since before he raised his voice. And now, she wouldn’t even lift her gaze.

That hurt more than he expected.

Without a word, he gently took her hand.

She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away.

He led her through the courtyard. Around them, the knights were packing. Supplies, gear, food. She frowned in confusion but said nothing. Rayan kept walking, leading her outside the hut.

There, in the clearing, he picked up a branch and crouched down.

Aria watched as he began to draw in the dirt.

A hill. Six small figures. A simple sketch—but clear.

Then, he looked up at her, searching her face.

She understood.

He and the others were leaving.

Her heart sank. She felt cold, stiff, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

They were leaving.

He was leaving.

Rayan turned back to the drawing. Next, he drew a small hut. Then another figure, apart from the rest.

He paused before drawing a line—connecting that lone figure to the group.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Was he asking if she wanted to come?

He raised his eyebrows slightly, waiting for her answer, though his face remained unreadable.

But inside, his heart was pounding.

No one else had come for her. No signs of family. No villagers. Just this lonely hut at the edge of a forgotten hill.

He hoped—quietly, fiercely—that she would say yes.

Aria stared at the drawing, then at the forest beyond.

The outside world.

Her grandmother’s voice echoed again.

But another memory pushed forward.

“Aria, you must live a happy life.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the branch.

She took it from Rayan—and drew a seventh figure next to the others.

A soft breath left his lips.

If anyone had looked closely, they would’ve seen a flicker at the corner of his mouth.

A smile.

He was happy.

And Aria… told herself again and again that she had made the right choice.

She would leave.