Four.

Eirlys POV:

Then Rhydian sighed. “For once, listen to your physician, Your Highness.”

“I’ve already wasted three years.”

“You’ll waste the rest if you bleed to death.” Rhydian said calmly, but underneath it was a mix of warning and concern.

Three years. Those were the only words I'd caught.

My fingers tightened around the basket handle until my knuckles turned white.

Auren looked up at me. “Mama?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I took one slow step toward the doorway, then another, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Sunlight spilled through the broken roof, painting golden stripes across the dusty wooden floor. I could only see his back at first...those broad shoulders I used to trace with my fingers, dark hair brushing the collar of his shirt. A fresh bandage wrapped diagonally across his shoulder, and old scars crossed newer ones, like a roadmap of every fight he’d survived.

The physician threaded another stitch. He didn’t even flinch. He just sat there resting his forearms on his knees, like pain had become an old friend he knew too well.

Auren’s little hand slipped from mine. Before I could grab him, he toddled two steps forward. The old floorboard creaked loudly under his tiny foot.

Every head in the room turned at once.

General Rhydian straightened immediately. “Miss Thorne.”

The man remained seated at first. Then, slowly...very slowly...he stood up. The physician reached for him. “Your Highness, don’t—”

He gently moved her hand aside. “I’ll survive. Just do your job when I tell you to.” he hissed.

His voice. Moon Goddess… that voice.

The basket slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

The man froze.

For one endless heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then he turned around and the world seemed to disappear.

Silver-gray eyes—the same ones I saw every time I looked at our son. Dark hair that always refused to stay neat no matter what. And that tiny scar beneath his jaw, the one he’d gotten after swearing he could split firewood better than me.

Every memory crashed into me all at once. Rain-soaked kisses under the trees. Burned breakfasts that filled the cottage with smoke and laughter. The way he’d throw his head back when he laughed at my terrible jokes. All those quiet promises whispered in the dark.

My knees nearly gave out. "No… This wasn’t possible."

He stared at me like I was a ghost who had walked straight out of his nightmares. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first. His throat worked once, twice. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed my name. “Eirlys…”

The way he said it… it was exactly the same. Like it still belonged only to him. Like no time had passed at all.

For one terrifying second, my stupid heart wanted to run straight to him. It wanted to throw my arms around his neck and never let go.

Then three years of loneliness slammed into me like a wave. Three birthdays where I held our son while he blew out candles and wished for a father who never showed up. Three winters of watching Auren stand at the gate every sunset, waiting. Three years of him asking why Daddy didn’t love us enough to come home.

I looked at the man standing in front of me. His clothes were finer now. His posture straighter. There was this quiet authority in the way everyone in the room instinctively watched him, ready to jump at his word. This wasn’t my Kael anymore.

I swallowed the burning lump in my throat. “…Who are you?”

The question hit him like a blade. Pain flickered across his face. Not loud or dramatic. Just deep, quiet, and absolutely devastating.

He took one hesitant step toward me. “I—”

“Don’t.” My voice came out sharper than I meant it to. He stopped immediately, like I’d struck him.

“My Kael wasn’t a liar,” I said, my words growing colder with every breath. “My Kael didn’t just disappear one night. My Kael promised he’d always come back to us.” I met his eyes, refusing to look away. “So tell me… what did you do with him?”

Silence swallowed the entire room. Not one soldier moved. Not one person even breathed.

Kaelor opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

I took Auren’s small hand in mine, and walked out without a word. I didn’t look back because if I did, I wasn’t sure whether I’d slap him across the face… or burst into the tears I’d been holding back for years.

I pulled Auren along, heading for the cottage. A home I knew would never tell lies to us. Until a voice stopped us on our way.

"You should've told us."

I stopped walking right there on the path. Slowly, I turned around.

Mrs. Brindle stood in the middle of the path, hands clasped in front of her.

Only yesterday she’d called my son fatherless and looked at him like he was something to be ashamed of and today, she was smiling?

I hated that smile.

"I don’t remember us having anything to discuss," I said flatly.

"Oh, don’t be like that." She waved a dismissive hand, still smiling. "We were only worried about you, dear."

"Worried?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course! Raising a child all on your own couldn’t have been easy."

I just stared at her.

For four years, she had made sure it wasn’t easy at all. When Auren was born, she’d gone around telling every woman in the village not to let their daughters end up being "another Eirlys." When I struggled to find work, she called it punishment from the Moon Goddess. Now she was acting like we’d always been close friends.

"What do you want, Mrs. Brindle?"

Her smile widened even more. "I was thinking perhaps little Auren could play with my grandson sometime."

"No."

She blinked, caught off guard. "...No?"

"My son wasn’t good enough to play with him yesterday," I said, adjusting the basket on my arm. "He isn’t good enough today either."

I turned and walked away before she could say another word.

Behind me, I heard her mutter under her breath, "She’ll regret that attitude."

Maybe I would. But not today.

****

That afternoon, another knock sounded on the door.

I opened it expecting yet another curious villager with fake smiles and sudden kindness like that of Mrs Brindle and Elder Miriam.

Instead, General Rhydian stood there. Alone this time. His expression was as calm and unreadable as always.

"What now?" I asked, keeping the door half-closed.

He glanced past me for a brief second. "I’d like a word, if that’s alright."

"I’m not really interested."

"It isn’t about His Highness," he said.

That made me pause. "...Then what is it about?"

"You."

I frowned but stepped outside anyway, pulling the door shut behind me. "What is it?"

He held out a folded piece of parchment. "I found this among the supplies that were delivered to the mill. I thought it might belong to you."

I took it carefully and unfolded the paper. It was old, yellowed at the edges. My heart skipped a beat the moment I saw the handwriting because I knew it. Every curve, every stroke.

It belonged to Kael.

My fingers started to tremble.

It wasn’t a full letter. It wasn’t even addressed to anyone. Just one unfinished sentence in the middle of the page.

"Little Wildflower..." It said and the ink stopped there, like whoever was writing it had never gotten the chance to finish.

I looked up sharply. "Where did you get this?"

Rhydian’s jaw tightened. "It was sewn into the lining of His Highness’s old travel cloak."

The world felt like it tilted under my feet. "Why... would he hide something like this?"

"I don’t know," he admitted.

For the first time since we’d met, General Rhydian actually looked genuinely uncertain. "But I don’t believe it’s the only thing either of you don’t know."

He gave a small, polite nod of his head, then turned and walked away.

I stayed standing on the porch, staring down at those unfinished words.

Little Wildflower...

The nickname only one person had ever called me.

For the first time in three years, a single, terrifying thought crept into my mind.

What if I don’t know the whole story and I'd got this all wrong?