Henry navigated past open stone arches where the smell of woodsmoke and rendering fat bled outward from the kitchens. The air in these corridors was thick. It carried the humidity of boiling wash-water and the vibrating hum of the working staff.
He turned a sharp corner and nearly collided with someone.
It was Thomas. The young man carried a massive stack of folded linens, his jaw set tight as he balanced the load.
"Watch your step," Henry said, his reflexes kicking in as he caught the top sheet before it could tumble to the flagstones.
Thomas blinked, realizing exactly who he had almost run into. He didn't bow. He didn't offer a polite greeting. His grip on the linens just tightened until his knuckles turned bone-white.
"My apologies," Thomas muttered. The tone was completely flat, devoid of any real respect.
Henry brushed off the attitude. "Have you seen Mia? I'm looking for her."
Thomas shifted his weight, refusing to make eye contact. "I don't know where she is. Busy, likely."
Before Henry could ask anything else, Thomas pushed past him. He brushed his shoulder deliberately against Henry's arm as he hurried down the corridor.
Henry turned, watching the young man disappear into the shadows of the hall.
'He definitely has a problem with me,' Henry thought.
It wasn't just typical servant deference or nervousness. There was a hard edge of genuine resentment boiling just beneath the surface. Henry let out a slow breath and let it go. The petty grievances of a household worker didn't even register on his radar. He turned back around and continued his search.
He found her three corridors down, in one of the rear sorting rooms.
Mia was standing on her tiptoes, trying to drape a heavy woolen blanket over a high wooden drying rack. The midday sunlight filtering through the narrow slit windows caught the rich tones of her shoulder-length brown hair. The maid's uniform she wore still seemed a size too small, the fabric straining slightly across her wide hips as she stretched upward. She grunted softly, straining to reach the top rung.
Henry stepped quietly into the room. He walked up behind her and reached over her shoulders, his large hands easily taking the heavy wool from her grasp. He tossed it effortlessly over the highest bar.
Mia jumped, spinning around with her hand clamped over her heart. Her wide, dark brown eyes were filled with that familiar, frantic caring energy he remembered so well.
When she saw who it was, her tense shoulders immediately dropped. A brilliant, relieved smile spread across her face.
"You have a terrible habit of sneaking up on me," she breathed.
"I wasn't sneaking." Henry closed the distance between them. "You were just distracted."
He didn't hesitate. He wrapped one arm securely around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest. His senses were instantly flooded by her radiant presence and the comforting scent of fresh herbs and roses. His other hand slid up to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling slightly in her brown hair. He tilted her chin up and kissed her.
It wasn't a hesitant test like the night before. It was deep, grounding, and deliberate.
Mia melted against him for a few seconds, her hands resting flat against the solid muscle of his chest. Then, suddenly, she gently pushed him back. Her cheeks burned a bright, brilliant shade of red as she darted her eyes nervously toward the open doorway.
"Henry, please," she whispered, her voice frantic but soft. "Someone could walk by. Do you remember what happened last night with the Head Maid?"
Henry laughed quietly. The sound was rich and entirely genuine.
"I do," he said, keeping his hands resting lightly on her hips so she couldn't retreat completely. "And we are going to get caught many more times. You might as well get used to it."
Mia covered her face with her hands, but he could clearly see the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"You're impossible," she mumbled into her palms.
Henry reached out and gently pulled her wrists away from her face. His expression sobered, turning incredibly warm and focused entirely on her.
"I have to go wash the dirt off from the spar," he told her. "But I want you to get ready. Wear something warm. Meet me at the eastern gate of the estate just after sundown."
Mia blinked, entirely caught off guard by the pivot. "The eastern gate? Why?"
"Because I am taking you into town for dinner."
Her wide eyes filled with panic. "Henry, I can't. I'm a servant. I have evening duties, and I have to help the cooks—"
"I already told the head maid you're relieved for the night," Henry lied smoothly. He would just go tell her on his way upstairs; she shouldn't have any reason to deny this request. "Meet me at the gate. Don't say no."
He gave her a quick, firm kiss on the forehead, then turned and walked out the door before she could formulate another excuse.
The baths attached to the family wing were a luxury Henry hadn't experienced in months. The water stripped away the sweat and grime of the morning's bout with Howard, along with the lingering, phantom chill of the dungeon that seemed permanently settled into his bones.
He dried off and dressed carefully. He pulled on a clean, fitted black tunic and dark trousers, tossing a heavy, fur-lined cloak over his broad shoulders to ward off the biting evening cold. It was civilian clothing, but it clung to his new physique in a way that screamed danger.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the Barony into a deep twilight, Henry walked out to the eastern gate.
Mia was already waiting.
She stood near the stone archway, pulling a simple grey wool cloak tightly around her shoulders. She had changed out of her working uniform into a modest, dark blue gown. It wasn't expensive silk or velvet, but the deep color brought out the sheer vibrancy in her dark brown eyes.
The dress fit her perfectly, complimenting her hips and the soft curve of her medium bust. To Henry, standing in the glow of the guardhouse torches, she looked absolutely radiant.
"You actually came," Henry smiled, stepping out of the shadows.
"You didn't exactly give me a choice," she replied. Her nervous energy quickly gave way to genuine, breathless excitement.
He offered his arm. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before looping her arm through his, leaning her weight comfortably into his side.
The walk down into the town was incredibly peaceful. The streets were lined with warmly lit taverns and merchant stalls closing up their shutters for the night. The scent of roasted meats, spiced cider, and sweet woodsmoke drifted on the crisp breeze. Henry led her past the rowdy, crowded mercenary taverns near the outer wall, instead guiding her to a quiet, upscale inn nestled securely near the merchant district.
The interior was warm, lit by dozens of thick tallow candles and a roaring hearth at the back of the dining room. They found a secluded booth tucked into a back corner, completely hidden from the prying eyes of the locals.
"I have never been inside a place like this," Mia whispered, running her fingers over the polished wooden table and admiring the shining brass fixtures on the walls.
"Get used to it," Henry said softly.
He ordered for them both. The innkeeper brought out thick cuts of tender venison soaked in a rich, dark berry reduction, a platter of roasted root vegetables, and a steaming pitcher of spiced cider.
When the food arrived, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They didn't talk about stats, or ranks, or the looming threats at the border. Henry asked her about the estate. He listened intently as she talked about the harmless gossip in the kitchens, the new stray cat that had taken up residence near the stables, and the tedious nature of constantly mending torn training gear.
Henry watched her speak, completely mesmerized. The way her dark eyes lit up when she laughed, the way she absentmindedly traced the grain of the wood when she was thinking—it anchored him.
"You're staring," Mia noted, pausing with her cup of cider halfway to her mouth.
"I am," Henry admitted without an ounce of shame. "I spent a long time looking at nothing but blood and dirt. I would rather look at you."
Mia flushed, dropping her gaze to her plate. "You've changed so much, Henry. You're so... direct now."
"The world doesn't wait for anyone, Mia. I learned that the hard way. If I want something, I'm going to say it."
The dinner dragged on for two hours. They ate until they were completely full, sharing lingering glances and soft smiles across the booth.
The night air had grown significantly colder by the time they left the inn.
Mia shivered slightly as a sharp breeze swept through the alleyway.
Without a word, Henry unclasped his heavy fur-lined cloak. He stepped behind her and draped it directly over her shoulders.
"What about you?" she asked, pulling the soft fur tighter around her neck.
"I run hot," he lied smoothly, though his maxed-out F-Rank constitution meant the cold didn't register on his skin as much anyway.
They walked back up the winding road to the Sinclair estate. This time, Henry didn't just offer his arm. He reached down and laced his fingers directly through hers. Her hand was delicate inside his calloused grip, but it fit perfectly.
They arrived at the servant's side entrance. The heavy wooden door was left slightly ajar, waiting for the staff to return from their late shifts in town.
Mia stopped at the threshold. She turned to face him, looking up into his eyes. The oversized cloak made her look incredibly small, but the affection radiating from her was overwhelming.
"Thank you," she said softly, her breath pluming in the cold air. "This was the best night of my life."
Henry reached out, gently brushing the back of his knuckles against her cold cheek.
"It's just the first of many," Henry promised.
He leaned down and kissed her one last time. It was slow, tender, and incredibly sweet. There was no rushing. No interruptions. Just the quiet, profound reality of the two of them alone under the night sky.
When he finally pulled away, Mia gave him a dizzying smile. She slipped the heavy cloak off her shoulders, handed it back to him, and slipped through the wooden door, disappearing into the warmth of the estate.
Henry stood alone in the cold for a long time, watching the closed door. He pulled the cloak back around his shoulders. A profound sense of peace settled over his chest.