“Agatha, I love you.”
Lucian’s voice was quiet, but the emotion behind it seemed to fill every corner of the hidden forest. The afternoon sun filtered through the thick canopy above them, spilling golden light across the ground. A gentle breeze moved through the trees, carrying the scent of pine, wildflowers, and damp earth. Somewhere nearby, water rushed over stones in the narrow stream where they had first spoken without anger or fear.
Their forest.
Lucian could no longer remember when he had begun thinking of it that way. Perhaps it had been the second time they met, when Agatha brought him healing herbs and scolded him for reopening his wounds. Perhaps it had been the first time she laughed with him. Or perhaps it had happened the moment he opened his eyes in the snow and found a wh
