𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞|𝟏𝟖+

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭#𝟐

The carriage rumbled softly along the uneven path. Marek sat beside Inara, his broad frame making the space feel smaller. His gray eyes flicked toward her now and then, noting her clasped hands, stiff posture, and silent gaze fixed out the window.

He considered saying something, anything, to reassure her, but he held back. Her fear was palpable, and the last thing he wanted was to add to it. Instead, he watched the scenery pass by in silence, his presence a steady, unobtrusive shadow.

The creak of the gates ahead caught Inara's attention. Her eyes widened as the massive wooden gates opened, revealing the village inside. Her gaze darted around, taking in the bustling activity.

Men and women alike moved about, carrying baskets of goods or tending to small market stalls. Children played in the streets, their laughter ringing out as they chased each other or played with animals. Women walked freely, their heads held high, not shackled by fear or control. Inara's heart clenched at the sight—this was a world she had never known, a world where women weren't treated like slaves.

The carriage moved through the village, passing clusters of small houses that looked cozy and well-maintained. The people waved to the driver, some sparing curious glances at the carriage's occupants, though Marek's presence seemed to discourage any lingering stares.

After some time, the carriage veered off the main path and toward a quieter area, where the homes were sparse and larger. Inara glanced at Marek, her curiosity tempered by caution. When the carriage stopped, he stepped out first, turning to offer her his hand.

She hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand, before placing her trembling one in his. His touch was firm but gentle as he helped her down.

"This is my home," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of warmth that seemed uncharacteristic. "You'll be safe here."

She nodded, her gaze settling on the small, peaceful hut. Inside, the space was simple yet welcoming—soft sofas, a modest kitchen, and a neatly made bed visible through an open door. It wasn't grand like the village homes or the brothel she had been forced to endure.

"Make yourself comfortable," Marek said, but before she could respond, a knock at the door drew his attention.

Marek frowned slightly, then turned to her. "Stay here. I'll see who it is."

He opened the door, revealing a man dressed in royal attire. The man bowed slightly before speaking in hushed tones.

"The King has requested your presence at the castle." 

Marek's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."

Inara watched him, her guarded expression betraying a hint of surprise at his kindness. She nodded silently.

Marek lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say more, but finally gave her a small, reassuring smile before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Inara alone.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her gaze swept over the room, noting its simplicity and the sense of safety it exuded. Slowly, she moved to the sofa and sat down, her hands clutching her knees.

For the first time in years, she wasn't bound, wasn't being watched, and wasn't in danger. But the unfamiliarity of freedom was almost as terrifying as captivity.

Marek walked into the castle courtyard, his boots crunching against the gravel path. A guard approached, bowing slightly.

"The King is in the garden, my lord," the guard informed him.

Marek nodded his thanks and headed toward the lush gardens. As he approached, the sound of laughter floated through the air, drawing a faint smile to his lips.