The capital appeared on the horizon shortly before sunset.
Tall stone walls rose above the countryside, familiar banners catching the evening wind.
Freya watched through the carriage window as the city slowly came into view.
Only a few weeks ago, the sight would have tightened something inside her chest.
Made her feel trapped.
Like the walls themselves were closing around her.
Now—
the feeling was different.
Not gone entirely.
Just changed.
The carriage rolled steadily through the outer gates as guards stepped aside immediately.
The familiar streets stretched ahead of them.
Busy.
Crowded.
Nothing had changed.
And yet everything felt different.
Soren glanced up from the document he had been pretending to read.
"You look disappointed."
Freya looked toward the window again.
"It was quieter in Lysara."
"It was."
A pause.
Then:
"Far fewer people trying to speak to me."
That earned the faintest smile.
"That sounds difficult."
"It was devastating."
Freya rolled her eyes.
The carriage continued through the city before finally turning toward the castle grounds.
As the familiar towers came into view, Freya felt herself grow quieter.
Not because she dreaded returning.
Because she was trying to understand why she didn't.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
For a moment neither of them moved.
The strange little world they had built beside the ocean was behind them now.
Reality waited outside.
Meetings.
Politics.
Everything they had temporarily escaped.
Soren stood first and stepped from the carriage.
Then turned back toward her.
Offering his hand.
The gesture was simple.
As though he no longer thought twice about it.
Freya looked at it briefly before taking it.
His fingers closed around hers immediately.
Steady.
The moment her feet touched the ground, a familiar voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Welcome back."
Freya looked up.
Eugene was already descending the castle steps.
His expression was entirely too amused.
Which was usually a terrible sign.
"I see neither of you murdered the other."
Freya sighed immediately.
"We've been back for ten seconds."
"Twelve, actually."
Eugene continued down the steps.
Soren looked unimpressed.
"Don't you have work to do?"
"An extraordinary amount."
"And yet you're here."
"I wanted confirmation that the kingdom still had a ruler."
Freya laughed.
Eugene looked at her immediately.
"There she is."
"What?"
Freya narrowed her eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
Eugene's grin widened.
"You laughed."
Silence.
Freya blinked.
Soren suddenly looked interested in absolutely anything else.
Traitor.
Eugene looked between them slowly.
Then looked again.
His grin somehow became worse.
"Oh."
Freya immediately disliked that.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"It means something."
"It absolutely means something."
Freya crossed her arms.
"Eugene."
Eugene held up both hands innocently.
"I merely observe things."
"You're terrible at being subtle."
"I wasn't attempting subtlety."
That at least was honest.
Soren sighed.
"You're exhausting."
"Yet somehow less exhausting than before."
That finally made Soren look at him.
Eugene's smile softened slightly then.
Just enough to become genuine.
He looked between both of them.
And beneath the teasing there was obvious relief.
"You look happier," he said simply.
The words landed differently than the jokes.
Freya found herself hesitating.
Soren didn't answer either.
Because neither of them could deny it.
Eugene's expression softened further.
"There it is."
Freya frowned.
"There what is?"
"The reason the trip worked."
Soren immediately looked suspicious.
"You say that as though this was your idea."
"It was my idea."
"It was a suggestion."
"It was an excellent suggestion."
Freya rolled her eyes.
The familiar bickering continued instantly.
As though Eugene had simply stepped back into his natural habitat.
Somehow—
it felt normal.
Comfortable.
Eugene eventually stepped aside and gestured dramatically toward the castle.
"Welcome home."
The words should have been simple.
Freya found herself looking toward the familiar stone walls.
The familiar windows.
The familiar halls waiting beyond the doors.
And for the first time—
the word home didn't feel wrong.
Beside her, Soren glanced in her direction.
Just briefly.
But it was enough.
Because somehow he understood exactly what she was thinking.
Eugene watched both of them and immediately regretted looking.
Freya frowned.
"What now?"
Eugene rubbed his forehead.
"Nothing."
A pause.
Then:
"I'm just realizing I'm going to have to live with whatever this is."
Soren's answer came instantly.
"You'll survive."
Eugene looked unconvinced.
But as the three of them started toward the castle doors together, even he couldn't hide the small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Because for the first time since Freya had arrived—
she wasn't walking toward the castle alone.
She was walking home.
***
A week passed quietly in the castle.
At first, she told herself it was only the return.
Lysara still lingered in her memory—the salt air, the open sky, the feeling of not being watched every second of the day.
Coming back had felt strange, like slipping into a coat that didn't quite fit anymore.
But that should have faded by now.
Instead, the exhaustion stayed.
Not sharp enough to be an illness she could clearly name.
Not strong enough to collapse her.
Just… constant.
Like her body had forgotten how to fully rest.
By the second morning, Freya attempted breakfast in the dining hall.
It was a simple meal—bread, fruit, tea—nothing unusual, nothing heavy.
At first, she sat down as normal.
Took a bite of bread.
Then paused.
The smell of the food—warm, familiar, harmless—suddenly felt… wrong in a way she couldn't explain.
Not strong.
Not unpleasant.
Just enough to make her stomach tighten slightly in protest.
Freya frowned at her plate.
"…That's odd," she murmured.
She tried again.
Another bite.
But the feeling only sharpened, subtle but persistent, until she quietly set the bread back down.
The tea didn't help.
Even that felt too much.
Freya exhaled through her nose, leaning back in her chair.
"I think I'm imagining things," she muttered.
Across from her, one of the attendants glanced over politely.
"Is something wrong, my lady?"
Freya shook her head immediately.
"No. Just not hungry."
Which wasn't entirely true.
It wasn't hunger that had disappeared.
It was something else she couldn't quite name.
After a few more minutes of pretending to sit through the meal, she excused herself.
The walk back through the hallways felt longer than usual.
Not because anything was wrong.
Just because everything felt slightly off-kilter.
Like her body and her routine were no longer agreeing on what normal was supposed to feel like.
Later that morning, Soren found her in the sitting room.
As usual, he didn't knock.
"You didn't eat," he said simply.
Freya didn't look up from the window.
"I tried."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the best one I have."
That made him pause.
He studied her for a moment longer than necessary.
"You've been like this all week," he said again.
Freya sighed.
"I'm just tired."
Soren stepped further into the room.
Not close enough to crowd her.
But close enough that she couldn't ignore him.
"I'll have the physician come," he said again.
Freya finally looked at him.
"I don't need a physician, I just need to sleep."
"You're not yourself."
That stopped her for a second.
Because she didn't have a response to that.
Not one that made sense.
Soren's voice softened slightly.
"Freya."
She exhaled.
"…Fine."
The word came reluctantly.
Soren nodded once.
"Good."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"I don't like guessing when it comes to you."
Freya glanced at him.
Soren didn't deny it.
Which somehow made it feel more serious.
And as he turned to arrange for the physician, Freya remained by the window, staring out into the courtyard below.
Trying to convince herself it was only exhaustion.
Only adjustment.
Only something temporary.
But the feeling lingered anyway.
Like something her body knew before she did.
***
The physician arrived that afternoon.
Freya had expected Lucan.
Or perhaps one of the older male physicians from the castle.
Instead, the servant who opened the door announced:
"Lady Physician Elara has arrived."
Freya blinked.
A woman stepped into the room a moment later.
She appeared to be in her forties, dressed in simple but elegant physician's robes, carrying a leather satchel beneath one arm.
Her expression was calm.
Entirely unbothered by castle politics.
Freya immediately looked toward Soren.
Suspicious.
Soren looked innocent.
Which was the first sign he wasn't.
"...You chose a female physician."
"It seemed practical."
"It seemed calculated."
"Those are not mutually exclusive."
Freya narrowed her eyes.
The physician looked between them once.
Then smiled faintly.
"I see I arrived in the middle of something."
"Unfortunately," Freya muttered.
The physician introduced herself as Elara before settling into a chair across from Freya.
Unlike most people in the castle, she seemed entirely unimpressed by either Soren's title or Freya's stubbornness.
Soren remained nearby for approximately thirty seconds before Elara looked up from her notes.
"My lord."
Soren raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"I would prefer to speak with my patient alone."
A pause.
Soren looked mildly offended.
"She is my wife."
Freya immediately closed her eyes.
Because she knew exactly where this was going.
Elara remained completely unfazed.
"And she is also my patient."
Soren folded his arms.
"I should be able to remain with my wife during a physician's examination."
"You may remain if she wishes it."
The room fell silent.
Freya looked at Elara.
Then at Soren.
Then back at Elara.
Soren suddenly became very interested in her answer.
Which was deeply suspicious.
The physician waited calmly.
Freya narrowed her eyes.
"You planned that."
Elara's expression remained innocent.
"I asked a reasonable question."
"You trapped me."
"I presented options."
Soren looked entirely too satisfied with himself.
Freya pointed at him.
"Don't encourage her."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You look pleased."
"I am pleased."
"Exactly."
Elara waited patiently while the argument continued around her.
Finally, Freya sighed dramatically.
"Fine."
Soren's expression brightened slightly.
Then Freya continued.
"Leave."
The satisfaction disappeared immediately.
Elara nodded once.
"Excellent choice."
Soren looked betrayed.
"This feels targeted."
"It is," Freya replied.
Elara nodded again.
Soren stared at both women.
Neither looked remotely apologetic.
"This kingdom has become hostile."
"You'll survive," Freya said.
"I might not."
"You definitely will."
Soren sighed heavily, the kind of sigh normally reserved for national disasters.
Then pointed at Freya.
"If she refuses to answer questions, that's on you."
"I've dealt with stubborn patients before."
Soren glanced at Freya.
Elara glanced at Freya.
The physician smiled knowingly.
"Ah."
Freya immediately disliked that.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
Which absolutely meant something.
A few moments later Soren finally headed for the door.
But before leaving, he paused beside Freya's chair.
His hand brushed briefly against her shoulder.
A simple gesture.
Yet it made her look up automatically.
His voice lowered slightly.
"Let her examine you properly."
Freya rolled her eyes.
"I'm not five."
"No."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You're significantly more difficult than a five-year-old."
Freya looked scandalized.
Elara laughed.
Soren looked entirely pleased with himself before finally leaving the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Elara looked toward Freya.
"...He's very worried."
Freya immediately looked away.
"He worries too much."
Elara's smile softened.
Perhaps.
But there had been something in Soren's eyes when he'd looked at Freya before leaving.
Something protective.
Something genuine.
And judging by the physician's expression—
she had noticed it too.