CHAPTER 3: The Amber Reflection
The light of dawn was gray and ghostly, slicing through the cracks in the stone walls to cut the lingering haze of woodsmoke.
Seraphine jolted awake. Her hand flew instantly to her lap, fingers curling around the rough bone handle of her iron knife. Her neck screamed in protest, stiff from a night spent upright in a wooden chair, and her emerald eye scanned the room with the frantic, wide alertness of a trapped animal.
For a second, the silence confused her. Then, she heard it—the steady, rhythmic rasp of breathing that wasn't hers.
On the cot, the stranger was no longer tossing in a fevered haze. He was still.
Seraphine stood, her joints popping with a dull ache. She moved toward him, her worn boots making no sound on the packed dirt floor. She moved with a practiced silence, a habit forged by two years of avoiding wolves and bears.
She needed to check his bandages. She needed to ensure he was strong enough to stand so she could kick him out and go back to being a ghost.
As she leaned over him, her long chestnut hair spilled forward, creating a curtain around her face. She reached out a gloved hand to check the heat of his brow—and froze.
Amber eyes were looking directly into hers.
They weren't glazed with delirium anymore. They were clear, sharp, and startlingly warm, like sunlight trapped in a jar of honey.
"You're real," he whispered.
His voice was a low rasp, but the clarity in it made Seraphine recoil. She jerked back, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her hood slipped, dangerously close to revealing the black, thorny vines crawling up the left side of her neck.
She caught the fabric just in time, yanking it down until only her right eye was visible through the shadows.
"You're awake," she said, her voice turning into a shield of ice. "Good. If you can speak, you can eat. And if you can eat, you can leave."
The stranger didn't seem bothered by her coldness. In fact, he blinked slowly, a small, crooked smile playing on his pale lips—a smile that looked far too charming for a man who had been at death's door only hours ago.
"Is that how you greet everyone you drag back from the abyss, spirit?" he teased, his voice rough but playful. "With a threat and an eviction notice?"
"I don't receive guests," Seraphine snapped. She turned her back to him, marching to the hearth to stir a pot of thin oat porridge. "I live in the Forbidden Forest for a reason. People who come here are either looking for death or running from it. Which are you?"
Behind her, she heard the rustle of straw as he shifted. A sharp hiss of pain escaped his teeth as his cracked ribs protested. Seraphine's instinct was to turn and help him, but she forced her feet to stay planted.
Don't be kind, she warned herself. Kindness is a bridge. You need a wall.
"I was hunting," he admitted, his voice strained as he managed to prop himself up on one elbow. "The bay stallion is a new mount. He didn't take well to the scent of the shadows in these woods. He bolted, and I… well, I learned that rocks are harder than a hunter's pride."
He paused, shifting slightly to alleviate the pressure on his ribs, and offered her a pained, boyish grin that lit up the dim hut.
"If I'm going to intrude on your solitude, I should at least offer a name. I'm Kael."
He said it simply, without a title attached. No "Lord," no "Sir," just a name that rolled off his tongue with practiced ease.
Seraphine stiffened. She didn't want his name. A name made him a person. A name made him real.
"I didn't ask," she replied, her voice flat.
"And you are?" Kael asked, the invitation hanging in the air, light and teasing.
"Indifferent," she lied.
"Indifferent," Kael repeated, the amusement evident in his tone. "A lovely name. But a bit of a mouthful. I can't exactly shout 'Help me, Indifferent!' if I accidentally set this blanket on fire."
He squinted at her back, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You look like a... Millicent."
Seraphine's hand faltered on the ladle. "I certainly am not."
"No? A Gertrude, then?" Kael pressed, clearly enjoying himself. "You have the stern posture of a Great Aunt Gertrude. Very imposing."
"Stop it," Seraphine snapped, annoyed despite herself.
"Brunhilda? Agatha? No, wait—Bob?"
Seraphine whipped around, her eye flashing with irritation. "If you do not stop, I will put the porridge on your head instead of in your stomach."
Kael laughed—a raspy, genuine sound that seemed to chase the shadows into the corners of the room.
"There she is. I knew there was a fire under all that ice," he said, his amber eyes dancing. "Fine. No grandmother names. Since you won't tell me who you are... I'll use the one I thought of when I first opened my eyes."
He looked at her, his expression softening.
"You remind me of a forest fairy hiding in the woods. So, I'll call you Faye."
Seraphine froze.
The blood drained from her face beneath the hood. The name felt like a physical blow, but not because it was an insult. It was because it was the opposite.
Faye. Fairy. A creature of light. A creature of magic and beauty.
She felt the black, thorny rose pulsing on her collarbone, a heavy, rotting weight against her skin. If he knew, she thought, a wave of nausea hitting her. If he knew he was calling a monster a fairy, he would laugh in disgust.
"Do not call me that," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It doesn't suit me."
"I think it does," Kael countered softly. "Short, mysterious, and... enchanting."
Seraphine swallowed hard, her throat dry. She turned back to the pot, her movements jerky. "Eat," she commanded, her voice shaking.
She slid a wooden bowl onto the small table near the cot, keeping her face strictly averted, her chin tucked deep into the high collar of her wool cloak.
Kael looked at the porridge—gray and lumpy—then back at her.
"Aren't you going to sit... Faye?" he asked, testing the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue like a caress. "I feel like a villain, taking the only bed and the only meal from my savior."
"I have already eaten," she lied.
In truth, her stomach was cramping with hunger. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. But she couldn't eat in front of him. To eat, she would have to lower her hood. She would have to move her hair.
He picked up the spoon, but he didn't eat. He watched her.
Seraphine felt the weight of his amber gaze like a physical touch. It was different from the way the nobles back home used to look at her. They had looked at her like a prize horse, checking her teeth and her gait.
Kael's gaze was… curious. It was a reflection of warmth she didn't know how to handle.
"You keep your face hidden," he said softly. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a quiet observation. "Why? Are you afraid I'll recognize you? Or is it that you think I won't be able to handle the beauty the forest is keeping for itself?"
Seraphine let out a sharp, bitter laugh. It scratched her throat. "Beauty? You truly are delirious, stranger."
She walked toward the door, her hand shaking. She needed the cold air. The curse marks on her neck were itching—a stinging, venomous heat that always flared when she felt shame.
"I am a monster of this forest," she said, her hand gripping the heavy wooden latch. "If you saw what was beneath this hood, you wouldn't be making jokes. You would be praying to the Goddess for protection."
She expected him to fall silent. To be cowed by the threat.
Instead, Kael just leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving her silhouette.
"I've seen your eyes, Faye," he said, his voice dropping to a low, steady rumble. "If those belong to a monster, then the angels have nothing on you."
Seraphine didn't answer. She couldn't. The air in the room had become too thick, too warm, too dangerous.
She threw open the door and stepped out into the damp, gray morning, slamming the wood shut behind her.
She leaned her back against the rough timber of the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her hand flew to her throat, clawing at the wool, feeling the raised, thorny texture of the black rose pulsing beneath the fabric.
He's dangerous, she thought, panic rising in her throat. His kindness is a poison.
She looked out into the gnarled, dark trees. For two years, she had survived wolves, winter, and starvation. But as she heard the faint sound of a spoon clinking against a bowl inside—proof that he was eating, proof that he was staying—she realized the forest had finally sent something she didn't know how to survive.
She caught her reflection in a rain-filled barrel near the wall—one emerald eye, wide and haunted, staring back.
But for the first time in two years, she didn't see the "Villainess." She saw a girl whose heart was beating far too fast because of a man with amber eyes.
Coming Up in Chapter 4: The Silver Sun-Crest Vow
Kael is strong enough to stand, but he realizes he doesn't want to leave the hut just yet. Before he is forced to return to his kingdom, he leaves Seraphine with a 'debt'—and a silver promise that will eventually change both of their lives.