I followed Nyssa through the winding corridors, her long strides forcing me to quicken my pace just to keep up. The oppressive silence between us was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic echo of our footsteps against the cold floor.

I glanced at her, searching for any flicker of emotion, but her face remained a picture of unyielding composure. Her eyes, dark and focused, stayed firmly ahead as though the path before us was the only thing in existence. 

The golden light streaming through the narrow windows danced along the polished floors, casting intricate patterns of shadow and warmth. The serene beauty of the palace seemed at odds with the tension crackling in the air. I couldn't help but wonder if Nyssa's silence was intentional, or if she simply preferred not to engage. 

Each step in the stifling quiet made the air feel heavier, pressing down on me. I clenched my jaw, my irritation building with every moment she refused to acknowledge my presence. Was she this detached with everyone, or was it just me?

When we finally rounded the last corner, my heart leaped in relief as my room came into view. Nyssa came to an abrupt stop in front of the arched oak door, her armor catching the light and gleaming with an almost regal air. 

"This is your room," she said curtly, her tone neutral, though the formality in her words felt like a barrier. 

I gave her a slight nod. "I know," I said quietly, my fingers brushing against the cool wood of the door handle.

Nyssa gave me one final look, her eyes lingering on mine for a brief moment. It was fleeting but intense, as if she was trying to assess me in those few seconds. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, her movements as graceful and silent as a shadow. 

I exhaled deeply, the tension in my shoulders easing as she disappeared down the hallway. Pushing the door open, I stepped into the comforting embrace of my room. The dim firelight from the hearth bathed the space in a warm, flickering glow. The sight of the wide bed with its silk covers, the sturdy oak furniture, and the windows overlooking the courtyard brought a small measure of peace. 

But that moment of comfort was interrupted by the sticky reminder of my current state. My training clothes clung uncomfortably to my skin, damp with sweat and grime from the day's exertions. A hot shower was no longer just an option - it was a necessity. 

I closed the door behind me, letting the latch click into place. The familiar solitude of the room wrapped around me like a blanket, a much-needed reprieve from the silent scrutiny I'd endured. 

As I made my way to the bathroom, the thought of letting the hot water wash away the tension and exhaustion was the only thing keeping me upright. 

I stripped off my training clothes, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor in a heap. The sticky fabric clung stubbornly to my skin, a testament to the day's grueling effort. The thought of a hot shower, of steam and water washing away the day's sweat and grime, was almost intoxicating. 

I turned the shower on, watching as the spray cascaded like a miniature waterfall. I adjusted the temperature, letting the water grow almost scalding, just shy of unbearable. 

Stepping in, I let the water pour over me, and a low groan escaped my lips as the heat seeped into my tired, aching muscles. It was a delicious kind of agony, the kind that teased the line between relief and pain. My head fell back, and I closed my eyes, allowing the water to stream down my face and soak my hair. 

The rising steam curled around me, thick and fragrant, carrying a faint floral scent that reminded me of the palace gardens. Despite the heat, I felt a trail of goosebumps skitter across my skin as the tension in my body began to melt away. My shoulders, which had been knotted with stress and exertion, slowly relaxed under the water's soothing embrace. 

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, lost in the blissful simplicity of the moment. Each drop of water felt like a cleansing force, washing away the frustration, the anxiety, the lingering doubts that had clung to me since the day began. 

Eventually, I reached for the soap, the bar soft and infused with a subtle, calming fragrance. I worked it into a lather, letting the silky suds glide over my skin. Every motion was deliberate, almost meditative, as I scrubbed away the dirt and tension from the day. My hands traced over my arms, my shoulders, my neck, and I couldn't help but marvel at how the simple act of washing could feel so grounding. 

The heat of the water soaked into my muscles, soothing every ache and pain until I felt light, almost weightless. For the first time in hours, maybe even days, I felt truly present, as if the world outside the shower didn't exist. 

When I finally felt clean, I sighed softly and reached for the faucet, reluctantly twisting the water off. The sudden silence was startling after the constant drumbeat of water, and the cooling air kissed my skin, sending a faint shiver up my spine. I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft, plush towel. 

Refreshed, rejuvenated, and lighter than before, I let myself savor the moment of peace before the world outside my door demanded my attention once again. 

I padded into my bedroom, still wrapped in the lingering warmth of the shower, the faint scent of floral soap clinging to my skin. The steam followed me like a phantom, curling and dissipating as I crossed to the wardrobe. With a soft slide, I opened the doors and let my eyes roam over the carefully arranged garments within. 

My gaze caught on a particular piece: a short, flowing green dress adorned with delicate vine and floral embroidery. Intrigued, I reached out and lifted it from its place, holding it up to the light. The fabric was light and airy, catching the golden glow of the room, and the embroidery shimmered subtly, as though alive with its own inner light. 

A small smile tugged at my lips as I ran my fingers over the intricate designs. The vines seemed to twist and curl, the flowers blooming with such lifelike precision that I almost expected to catch their scent. it was beautiful in its simplicity, the kind of beauty that didn't demand attention but quietly captivated anyone who looked closer. 

Carefully, I slipped the dress over my head, the fabric sliding down my  skin like a whisper. It settled gracefully, hugging my form without feeling constrictive. The green hue was soft and earthy, a perfect complement to my sun-kissed complexion. As I moved, the hem swirled around my knees, light as a breeze. 

I gazed down at myself, examining the way the dress emphasized my curves and made my skin glow softly in the light. The spaghetti straps left my shoulders bare and exposed the delicate line of collarbone, the fabric falling lightly to just above my knee and swirling gently around my legs as I moved. 

I stepped to the mirror, my reflection catching me off guard. The dress emphasized the subtle curves of my figure, the spaghetti straps framing my bare shoulders and collarbones with an understated elegance. The embroidery seemed almost alive in the light, the intricate vines and flowers drawing attention without overwhelming the simplicity of the design. 

For a moment, I simply stared at my reflection, a strange mixture of wonder and unease stirring within me. Back in the Autumn Court, clothing was often practical and utilitarian, meant for function rather than form. But here, in the Spring Court, elegance and beauty were a way of life - a silent language spoken through every stitch and thread. 

As I adjusted the dress slightly, smoothing the fabric against my sides, a realization dawned on me. Here, appearances were more than just a statement: they were a tool, a weapon, a way to communicate status and intent without words. I'd never cared much for such things before, but now, standing here in this dress, I couldn't deny its power. 

I turned slightly, watching how the dress moved with me, the fabric catching the light like a living thing. For the first time, I allowed myself to wonder if I could learn to wield this kind of elegance - if I could adapt to this world where beauty wasn't just an art but a necessity. 

For a fleeting moment, I considered using magic to enhance my appearance. If appearances were currency here in the Spring Court, then perhaps I could leverage my abilities to better fit in - to project the image they expected from Sebastian's mate. 

Closing my eyes, I summoned a threat of fae glamour, letting it wind through me like a warm current. The familiar tingle danced over my skin as I willed subtle changes into existence, nothing too drastic - just enough to polish the edges of what was already there. 

When I opened my eyes, the reflection staring back at me was undeniably mine, yet touched with a delicate magic that felt almost otherworldly. My hair shone with a richness that caught the light, each strand cascading like liquid silk. My skin carried a faint, golden luminescence, as though kissed by sunlight. My eyes sparkled, their amber depths catching the light like jewels. 

I tilted my head slightly, studying the changes. It was still me - no false faces, no illusions - just a refined version, honed and highlighted by the magic coursing through my veins. I ran my hands down my sides, the fabric of the dress feeling even more luxurious. 

I felt...beautiful. But more than that, I felt powerful. The way the dress hugged my figure, the way the glamour enhanced my natural features - it wasn't just an aesthetic change. It was a shield, a weapon, a way to face the judgmental gazes of the court with unshakable confidence. 

I allowed myself a small smile, testing the way it looked in the mirror. The soft curve of my lips felt unfamiliar, like I was seeing someone else entirely. Yet the confidence that radiated from my reflection felt real - something I could grasp, even if only for a moment. 

The thought of Sebastian crossed my mind. I couldn't deny the small spark of anticipation that ignited at the idea of him seeing me like this. Would he notice the glamour? Would he approve? I shook the thoughts away, chastising myself for caring so much about his reaction. Still, I found myself glancing out the window, wondering when he might return. 

Darkness stretched across the courtyard outside, the faint flicker of distant lanterns casting uneven shadows. There was no sign of Sebastian - no movement, no sound. Frustration prickled at the edges of my thoughts. I didn't want to be left alone in this palace, unsure of where I stood or what the next steps should be. But I knew impatience wouldn't summon him any faster. 

Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the window frame, the cool glass pressing against my skin. I needed to stay calm, to hold onto this newfound confidence, no matter how unsettling the stillness around me felt. For now, all I could do was wait - and hope that when Sebastian returned, I'd be ready to face whatever came next.

I needed to do something to pass the time. The silence of the room, the stillness of the palace - it was all too much. I couldn't let myself dwell on the fact that I was alone, bored, and hopelessly unfamiliar with my surroundings. 

My gaze flickered across the room, landing on the small armchair at the foot of the bed. And idea sparked in my mind, the restless energy inside me begging for an outlet. 

I stepped back from the window, closing my eyes and focusing inward. My magic hummed beneath the surface, a constant, steady presence within me. It was familiar, comforting, and always ready to answer my call. 

With a deep breath, I let it unfurl. It stretched out through the room like a ripple, invisible but tangible to me. I could feel the presence of every object around me - the weight of the chair, the texture of the curtains, the delicate curve of the dresser. They were all within reach, all waiting for a silent command. 

I raised my hand, flicking my wrist ever so slightly. The armchair at the food of my bed obeyed immediately, lifting a few inches off the ground and hovering weightlessly in the air. A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips. 

With another motion, I sent it spinning slowly above the bed, its legs tracing a lazy circle in the air. My connection to it felt seamless, as if the chair were an extension of my own body. I guided it with a mere thought, the magic coursing through me like a second heartbeat. 

I tilted my hand, and the chair began to rotate more quickly, its movements precise and deliberate. My magic was strong, unyielding, and yet as smooth as silk. The chair obeyed without resistance, moving in perfect harmony with my will. 

The room was alive with the subtle energy of my power. The chair spun in intricate, deliberate patterns, whirling faster and faster with each gesture. It was exhilarating, this feeling of control, this connection to the physical world around me. The flush of power warmed my skin, sending a heady rush through my veins. 

I directed the chair higher, then lower, weaving it through the air like a dancer following an unseen rhythm. My magic thrummed, alive and vibrant, as I toyed with the world around me. It wasn't just an exercise in power - it was a reminder of what I was capable of, a reminder of the strength that resided in me. 

I felt my concentration slip as a voice spoke from just behind me - a voice that seemed familiar. I turned hastily, the armchair tipping and falling onto my bed with a muffled thud, a quiet swear escaping my lips. 

Standing just inside my door, her expression almost amused, was Maleia. Her warm, sharp eyes flickered between the armchair and my wide, apologetic gaze, her lips pursing for a moment as if to hide a smile. She spoke swiftly, her tone as firm as it was kind. 

"Come with me. You'll need help finding the kitchen."

Heat crept up my neck as I registered her presence and the scene she'd walked in on. The thought of her seeing me tossing around an armchair like a child playing with a toy filled me with sudden embarrassment. My magic, so often a source of pride, now felt reckless and juvenile under her calm gaze. 

But Maleia's words quickly redirected my focus. The kitchen. My stomach tightened at the reminder. I would need to eat eventually, and it wasn't like I had a plan for how to get there on my own. 

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was no judgment in her expression - just that quiet, knowing amusement. She turned gracefully, gesturing for me to follow her. "This way," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "I'll lead you."

I took a quick, steadying breath, pushing away from the bed and stepping after her. My embarrassment lingered, but I swallowed it down, focusing instead on Maleia's confident stride as she led me out into the hallway. Her calm, poised movements made me feel oddly self-conscious in contrast, but I matched her pace, falling in step beside her. 

As we walked through the quiet corridor, I felt a strange mix of gratitude and relief. Maleia's presence, so composed and deliberate, felt oddly grounding - like an anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

I felt Maleia's gaze linger on me for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I have to say," she remarked, her tone soft and almost admiring, "you've used your glamour subtly - very skillfully. It's almost imperceptible, but it makes you seem...radiant."

I blinked, caught off guard by her words. Compliments were the last thing I'd expected, least of all on my use of magic. My glamour, which I'd applied almost hesitantly, suddenly felt like a triumph instead of a trick.

Before I could find a response, she added in a quiet, teasing tone, "Sebastian won't know what to do when he sees you like this." Her words, filled with amused certainty, made my cheeks flush instantly.

My heart skipped sharply in my chest, heat creeping up my neck. "What do you mean?" I managed, though my voice came out softer and shakier than I'd intended. 

Maleia laughed lightly, the sound like a soft chime echoing in the corridor. She gave me a pointed glance, her eyes brimming with amused sympathy. "Exactly what I said," she replied smoothly. "When he sees you glowing like this, looking so beautiful, he'll be at a loss for words."

The flush on my cheeks deepened, spreading like a wildfire. "H-He will?" I stammered, my voice barely audible. The thought of rendering Sebastian speechless, even for a moment, felt both flattering and completely disarming. 

Maleia's smile widened, her amusement clearly growing. "Oh, yes," she said with an air of confidence. "I'd wager he won't know whether to swoon or bow."

I let out a nervous laugh, a mixture of embarrassment and incredulity. "You're exaggerating," I said, shaking my head slightly, though I couldn't suppress the small, shy smile that tugged at the corners of my lips. 

"Am I?" Maleia replied, her tone playful yet knowing. "We'll see soon enough, won't we?"

Her words lingered in the air as we continued walked, my heart still racing at the thought of Sebastian's reaction. Somehow, the idea of him seeing me like this - looking radiant, as Maleia put it - made me feel both nervous and a little excited. 

I shouldn't be thinking about him like this, shouldn't be wondering what he'd think if he saw me glowing like this. The thought itself made my chest tighten, a strange mixture of guilt and curiosity I couldn't seem to shake. 

Maleia, sharp as ever, seemed to sense my internal conflict. Her smile widened, teasing yet kind. "I have to say, I'm a bit surprised," she began, her voice almost playful. "Normally, a male mate is almost painfully possessive, always wanting their mate close, in their line of sight. So it's almost amazing - and probably torturous for him - that Sebastian is as restrained as he is, sleeping in a different room for now."

I let out a quiet sigh, my shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "I don't want to rush things with him," I admitted, my voice soft but steady. Saying the words aloud felt oddly exposing, as though I were peeling back a layer of myself. 

"It feels wrong to move that fast," I continued, glancing away briefly. "There's so much happening, so much I don't understand yet. I just want to take things at whatever pace feels right, without anyone putting pressure on us."

Maleia's expression shifted, her usual teasing replaced with something gentler, more understanding. She nodded slowly, her green eyes warm as she regarded me. 

"Of course," she said, her voice quieter now, sincere. "There's no reason to rush. If your paces are different and you feel more comfortable taking things slowly, then that's what matters. Sebastian won't push you to go faster than you want to. The bond between mates is strong; it won't break or falter just because you're taking your time." 

Maleia opened the door to the kitchen, the scents of a thousand different dishes wafting through the air, rich and inviting. The warmth from the ovens and the soft hum of activity made the space feel welcoming, almost like a small sanctuary. 

Finally, Maleia gestured toward a table in the vast kitchen. "Here you are," she said gently, her voice soothing against the backdrop of the quiet kitchen. "Take a seat, and I'll see about getting you something."

I nodded, exhaling deeply as I slide into the chair. The cool wood pressed against my skin, and the quiet hum of the kitchen wrapped around me like a thin, comforting blanket. 

Maleia moved away with a quiet grace, heading toward the counter at the far end of the room. The soft clink of metal mixing bowls and the rhythmic sound of chopping soon filled the space, a soothing cadence in the otherwise still air. 

As I sat there, surrounded by the quiet sounds of preparation, my thoughts began to drift, unbidden, to Sebastian. How long had he been gone now? When would he return? A restlessness crept into my chest, and I shifted in my seat, trying to quell the unease that was growing stronger with each passing moment. 

Maleia's earlier words echoed in my mind: Male mates are almost painfully possessive, always wanting their mate close, in their line of sight. I had brushed off the comment at the time, but now it lingered, her voice looping softly in my thoughts.

A realization began to settle in, sharp and unwelcome: that anxious, hollow ache in my chest wasn't just restlessness. It was because Sebastian wasn't here. The absence of his presence gnawed at me, a strange, persistent longing that felt like homesickness. 

I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as I tried to push the feeling aside. The revelation left me rattled - how could it feel like part of my world was missing simply because Sebastian wasn't nearby?

And yet, no matter how much I tried to reason it away, the truth settled heavily in my chest: I longed to see him. I longed to hear his voice, to feel the warmth of his gaze on me, to have him near. 

The intensity of it unnerved me. I had convinced myself I could manage this bond, that I could keep my emotions controlled, tethered. But as I sat there, waiting in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, I realized just how naive I had been. 

His smile, his voice, even the way he carried himself - it all had a hold on me, deeper and stronger than I'd anticipated. And the worst part? I didn't know if I wanted to fight it anymore.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table and pressing my palms together. I wanted to see him. I needed to see him. Just the thought of his presence brought a strange comfort, a sense of completeness that I hadn't felt since he left. 

It was maddening, overwhelming...but it was also undeniable. 

As my thoughts swirled through my mind, I was startled by the gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up quickly, my heart skipping, only to find Maleia standing beside me, a small plate balanced gracefully in her other hand. 

"Here you are," she said, her voice calm and measured as she set the plate down on the table. "Something simple. I hope it's adequate."

My gaze shifted to the plate - an assortment of fresh fruits and crisp vegetables, neatly arranged. It was modest, but it would suffice. I wasn't particularly hungry, but the sight of the vibrant colors offered a small sense of comfort.

I gave Maleia a slight nod, picking up the fork she'd provided. The room returned to its quiet state, the only sounds the faint scrape of my fork against the plate and the rhythmic pattern of my breathing. 

The meal was simple, the flavors clean and delicate, but my mind was too preoccupied to fully enjoy it. Thoughts of Sebastian lingered like a shadow, coloring the silence with an undercurrent of restlessness. 

I was nearing the end of the meal when the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the hall beyond the kitchen. My entire body seemed to react instinctively - my back straightened, and my head turned toward the door. My heart quickened, hope flickering to life within me. 

The footsteps grew louder, closer. My pulse raced as I set the fork down, anticipation bubbling in my chest.