Third Person’s POV


    Lance felt a stir in his heart. It was rare to see her so gentle.


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    Looking at the twoyers of gauze on his hand, he chuckled, “It’s just a scratch, no need for all this fuss.” His voice carried a hint of indulgence, an subconscious effort to ease the charged atmosphere.


    “Why not?” She looked up, her amber eyes wide and shimmering like flickering mes in the candlelight.


    “This kind of wound can get infected and pus–filled if not treated properly. I’ve been through it. Let me show you my scar,” she said, extending her hand to reveal a half–finger–long scar on her wrist, now faintly pink.


    “It was infected once. My wolf healing kicked in, but it left this mark. Your hands are so nice. It’d be a pity if you got a scar… Well, you’d still look good,” she added, trailing off as if catching herself.


    Lance’s wolf let out a cheerful whine at her concern.


    With a teasing smile, he said, “What’s the use of a man having nice hands?”


    Adide replied earnestly, “It’s better than ugly,” her tone brooking no argument, as if stating a survivalw of the werewolf world.


    He chuckled, his voice softening, “Then you might be disappointed. I’ve got plenty of scars.” His tone carried the resignation of a werewolf warrior, where honor and scars are eternalpanions.


    Adide sighed softly, her fingers gently brushing the edge of the gauze as if sensing his warmth. “I believe every scar on you has a story,” she said.


    “And they’re your glory,” she added after washing her hands, shing a bright smile. “I’ve got my own glory too.”


    “Are your wounds all healed?” he asked, recalling her battlefield injuries.


    “Long ago. I take pride in them,” she said, dismissing the servants and ordering refreshments and coffee. “Ask Mallory and the others to join us for coffee.”


    Jasmine reported, “Beta Valentin has already invited them to the front hall for coffee. They’ll head back soon. Doctor Digby told them Cedric needs to sleep and they needn’t wait. They said they’d return


    tomorrow.”


    “Good,” Adide nodded, visibly relieved.


    “It’s better they leave. I have little to say to them and can’t just leave with guests around.”


    Lance asked, “Does having me here make you ufortable?”


    “How could it?<b>” </b>she replied in surprise.


    K


    “We’rerades–in–arms and soon to be mates. We’ll be spending our lives together.”


    She smiled again, “Besides, we were schoolmates. There’s no awkwardness between us.”


    Lance rolled his eyes, now a little uneasy.


    The refreshments and coffee were ready. Adide poured him a cup. “I know you always say thanks aren’t. needed, but I must thank you. Without you, Cedric might still be with those people, a rogue suffering abuse, scorn, and hunger.”


    Her eyes welled up. “Mallory told me most disabled young rogues don’t live past ten. Weakened by daily maltreatment and cold hunger, they often die from minor illnesses or freeze to death in harsh winters. Every year, we collect the bodies of many young rogues, most died of starvation or freezing.”


    Her voice choked. “I can’t imagine Cedric dying silently and being thrown into the wilderness for stray dogs. I’ve had that nightmare several times.”


    Lance, unable to bear her tears, said gently, “Don’t think like that. Your family must have been watching over him, leading me to him. Otherwise, among so many rogues, how would I have noticed and recognized him?”


    She looked up, tears still on hershes. “Anyway, I’ll always remember your kindness. No matter what you ask of me in the future, as long as it doesn’t vite my conscience, I’ll do it for you.”


    Lance said seriously, “I don’t need you to do anything for me. If anything, I want you to live well, happily and joyfully. That’s what your family would want.”


    She was touched, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Why are you so kind to me?”


    Lance couldn’t stand to see her like this, his heart aching.


    Reminded of her battlefield resilience and seeing her current vulnerability, the tenderness in his eyes was undeniable. He turned away, “Shouldn’t I be kind? You’re my fiancée. We’re to spend our lives together.”


    Adide should have been moved, but she’d heard simr words before.


    This triggered an unwee memory, one she couldn’t suppress despite her efforts.