Jaefel chuckled softly, though his dark eyes held a heaviness, a weight of sleepless nights and worry. "By keeping you from collapsing in a hallway."
Emma opened her mouth—whether to argue or apologize again, she wasn't sure—but nothing came out.
Jaefel shifted, adjusting his stance. "I wasn't just following you, Emma," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I was watching over you."
Her heart stumbled at the words—not from romance, no—but from a guilt she didn't know she still carried.
The time of evil.
When she had first heard of Jaefel—the knight with ties to the Thrud Prince and the Seventh Princess—she had feared him.
Rumors whispered of betrayals and shifting loyalties, and Emma, like many others, had cast suspicious glances his way.
She had thought him one of the bad ones.
And now here he was—steadying her as her body betrayed her—kind and patient, with not a flicker of judgment in his gaze.
Emma swallowed. "I thought you were… dangerous."
