Chapter 112: Sense of pride and memories
Noelle stood at the door, glaring down at Ben as he stubbornly tried to swing his legs off the bed. The man wasn’t supposed to move, not with the extent of his injuries. Noelle’s glare deepened, and after a beat, Ben seemed to get the message, reluctantly settling back against the pillows.
Satisfied that Ben wouldn’t try again, Noelle turned and left the room, his heels clicking against the wooden floor as Doris followed silently behind. The air inside the castle was cool and refreshing, but Noelle felt the urge to be outside, to let the fading light of the setting sun brush against his skin.
The garden greeted him with a serene beauty as always, but something more amusing caught his eye. There was Mona, her back straight as she struggled to contain the wildly flapping Grape. Noelle stifled a laugh. For all the bird’s mischievous antics, Mona was the only person Grape seemed to genuinely fear. Seeing the usually cocky bird in such a state of helplessness brought a flicker of amusement to Noelle’s stern expression.
With a slight shake of his head, he redirected his thoughts. The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds. Aware of the evening settling in, Noelle decided to spend some time in the greenhouse. A new shipment of plants had arrived earlier, and the prospect of cataloging them filled him with quiet excitement.
Inside the glass enclosure, the earthy smell of soil and the vibrant greenery surrounding him gave him a sense of calm. For the next hour or two, Noelle let himself get lost in the simple pleasure of tending to the plants, inspecting their leaves, and making careful notes about their care.
*
As Noelle made his way back to the upper floors, the familiar and potent scent of Thorne’s pheromones greeted him before he even reached the door of their bedroom. The distinctive mixture of musk and warmth signaled the General’s return.
Pushing the door open, Noelle stepped inside and found Thorne just as he imagined—dressed in his long, dark cloak, boots muddied from travel, his hands working to remove them.
"You’re back," Noelle said, crossing his arms and fixing Thorne with a half-hearted glare. "And yet, I wasn’t informed."