Chapter 37: What Remains Unsaid

The infirmary smelled like herbs, smoke, and something faintly metallic that never quite left.

Kael hated it.

He stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, watching as the healers moved around Riven’s still form. Cloth soaked in dark red was being peeled away, replaced with clean bandages. One of the healers muttered instructions under her breath, hands steady despite the severity of the wound.

Kael hadn’t moved in minutes.

Maybe longer.

“Commander,” one of the younger medics said carefully, glancing at him. “You should rest. We’ll take care of him.”

Kael didn’t respond.

His eyes stayed locked on Riven.

Pale. Too pale.

Still breathing, but shallow.

Not enough.

“I’m not leaving,” Kael said finally.

The medic hesitated, then nodded and stepped away.

No one tried to argue with him after that.

They worked around him instead.

Time passed strangely. It stretched, folded in on itself. Kael didn’t feel it properly. He only noticed the small things.

The way Riven’s chest rose unevenly.

The way his fingers twitched once, then went still again.

The way the healers exchanged looks they tried to hide.

Kael saw all of it.

And he understood more than they thought.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

The head healer didn’t look up immediately. Her hands were still busy securing the bandages around Riven’s side, careful and precise.

“It was deep,” she said at last. “He lost a lot of blood.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I asked.”

She finally met his gaze.

For a moment, there was no softening the truth.

“He’s stable for now,” she said. “But the next few hours matter.”

Kael nodded once.

That was enough.

He stepped closer as the healers finished, watching as they adjusted the last of the dressings and cleaned the remaining blood from Riven’s skin. When they were done, they began to file out, leaving space behind them.

“Call if anything changes,” the healer said.

Kael didn’t answer, but she seemed to take his silence as agreement.

Soon, the room was quiet.

Just the two of them.

Kael pulled a chair closer and sat down beside the bed. For a moment, he just watched.

Riven looked different like this.

Not because of the injuries, but because the usual tension was gone. The constant readiness, the sharp awareness in his eyes, the subtle defiance in every movement.

All of it was absent.

What remained felt… unfamiliar.

And it unsettled Kael more than anything else.

“You always make things complicated,” he muttered.

No response.

Of course not.

Kael leaned back slightly, dragging a hand over his face. Exhaustion pressed down on him now that the fight was over, but he ignored it. Sleep wasn’t an option.

Not now.

Not while Riven looked like this.

“You were supposed to fall back,” he said quietly, more to himself than anything. “That was the plan.”

Still nothing.

Kael exhaled slowly.

“I had it under control.”

The lie sounded weak, even to him.

Because he hadn’t.

Because that strike would have hit him.

And Riven had known it.

Kael’s gaze shifted back to the bandages, to the place where the blade had torn through flesh meant for him.

His chest tightened.

“That wasn’t your job,” he said.

But the words carried no real conviction.

A faint movement broke the stillness.

Kael froze.

Riven’s fingers twitched again, more noticeably this time. His brow furrowed slightly, like something was pulling him back from wherever he’d gone.

Kael leaned forward immediately.

“Riven?”

No response yet.

But it was something.

“Come on,” Kael said, his voice lower now. “Don’t start this.”

Riven shifted faintly, a quiet sound escaping him, barely more than a breath. His eyes remained closed, but there was tension returning to his features.

Pain.

Good.

Pain meant awareness.

“Yeah,” Kael murmured. “That’s it. Stay with it.”

Riven’s lips parted slightly, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t quite form the words.

Kael didn’t wait.

He reached out, his hand hovering for a brief second before settling over Riven’s wrist. Not tight. Not restraining.

Just there.

Grounding.

“You’re not done yet,” Kael said.

Riven’s breathing hitched faintly.

Another small movement.

Then, slowly, his eyes opened.

Not fully. Just enough.

But it was enough.

“There you are,” Kael said quietly.

Riven blinked, his gaze unfocused at first. It drifted across the ceiling, then the walls, before finally settling on Kael.

Recognition came slowly.

Then it stayed.

“You look terrible,” Riven rasped.

Kael let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You said that already.”

“Still true.”

His voice was weak, rough around the edges, but it was there.

Alive.

Kael felt something in his chest loosen slightly.

“Welcome back,” he said.

Riven shifted faintly, immediately regretting it as pain flashed across his face. His hand twitched under Kael’s, but he didn’t pull away.

“How long?” he asked.

“Not long,” Kael replied. “A few hours.”

“Feels longer.”

“That’s because you almost died.”

Riven’s gaze flickered. “Almost isn’t the same as did.”

“No,” Kael said. “It’s not.”

A quiet silence settled between them again, but this time it felt different.

Less heavy.

More… real.

Riven studied him for a moment, his expression still clouded by pain but clearer than before. “You stayed.”

It wasn’t a question.

Kael didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Riven’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to read something deeper in that answer.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

Kael held his gaze.

Because leaving wasn’t an option.

Because the thought of walking away from this room while Riven was still lying here felt wrong in a way he couldn’t explain.

Because something had already shifted, and there was no going back.

“I told you before,” Kael said. “You matter.”

Riven went still.

For a second, something unguarded crossed his face again. Something that looked dangerously close to belief.

Then it disappeared.

“You should stop saying things like that,” Riven muttered.

“Why?”

“Because you might start meaning them.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change. “I already do.”

That landed.

Riven looked away, his jaw tightening slightly. “That’s a mistake.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t even know what I am.”

Kael leaned back slightly, studying him. “Then tell me.”

Riven didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, distant, like he was weighing something.

Then, slowly, he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said.

Kael exhaled quietly.

“Fine,” he said. “But you don’t get to use that as an excuse.”

“For what?”

“For pushing me away.”

Riven let out a faint breath that might have been a laugh. “I push everyone away.”

“I noticed.”

“And you’re still here.”

“Yes.”

“That’s your problem.”

Kael’s eyes didn’t leave him. “Or maybe it’s yours.”

That earned him a look.

A real one this time.

Sharp, but not hostile.

Something shifted in the space between them again, subtle but undeniable.

Riven studied him for a long moment, then finally leaned back slightly against the pillow, exhaustion catching up with him again.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

Riven closed his eyes briefly, as if accepting that.

“Then at least try not to hover,” he murmured.

Kael almost smiled.

“No promises.”

For once, Riven didn’t argue.

And for the first time since the battle ended, the silence between them didn’t feel like something waiting to break.

It felt like something building instead.

Something neither of them had words for yet.