The observatory was never meant for watching people.
But Alexander had lingered in its shadows more times than he cared to admit since returning. He told himself it was caution. Strategy. That he needed to assess the threat without disturbing Evelyn's fragile stability.
But seeing her—shoulders squared, eyes defiant even as whispers chased her—something inside him snapped.
He couldn't stay in the dark anymore.
He descended the spiraling steps with the precision of a man ready for war.
By the time he reached the training hall, students had begun to retreat, leaving Evelyn and Headmaster Lorien alone at the center. Caelan stood a few feet back, jaw clenched and hands balled at his sides.
Alexander's presence drew silence.
Lorien turned. "Valerius."
Evelyn froze. Her breath caught as her eyes found him—half shock, half something else. Hope, maybe. Or anger.
"I wasn't aware you'd returned," Lorien said, voice calm but pointed.
"I wasn't aware my absence would be so badly timed," Alexander replied evenly. His gaze flicked to the shattered plinth. "I came back to see things under control. Instead, I find you testing her like she's a weapon."
Lorien's expression remained composed. "She's more than a weapon. She's a question we haven't answered yet."
"She's not a question," Alexander said quietly. "She's Evelyn."
The name lingered between them.
Evelyn swallowed. "You were supposed to give me space."
He stepped toward her. "I did."
She folded her arms, heat flickering in her eyes. "Then why are you here?"
He hesitated—just for a breath. "Because I heard what happened. And I couldn't stay away."
Caelan shifted behind them. "She doesn't need to be rescued."
"I know." Alexander's voice didn't rise. "But I think she deserves someone who's willing to stand beside her. Not behind. Not in secret. Beside."
Evelyn didn't move, didn't speak—but her eyes softened, barely.
Lorien watched them both. "I'll allow her to continue training. But not without oversight."
"I'll oversee her myself," Alexander said without hesitation.
The headmaster studied him for a long moment… then nodded once.
He left without another word.
When they were alone, Evelyn finally broke the silence. "So you're staying."
"I am."
"And if I ask you to leave again?"
"I'll go," he said. "But I won't stop choosing you."
She looked away—but the faintest smile pulled at her lips.
"I'm not ready to choose."
"I'm not asking you to," he said gently. "Not yet."
But this time, as they stood beneath the flickering rune lights and watched the hall empty, Evelyn didn't tell him to leave.
And that was something.