Damian draped his wet clothes over a second chair to dry in the heat of the hearth. "I’m finished," he said, stepping toward the fireplace where Eilika remained standing.

He glanced at the untouched tray on the small table. "Why aren’t you drinking the soup? It will lose its heat soon."

"I will now," Eilika replied, quickly reaching for the bowl. She stirred the thick broth with a wooden spoon before settling into her chair. The warmth from the bowl seeped into her palms, a welcome contrast to the storm still rattling the windowpane. "The downpour is so heavy. What do you think happened to the carriage driver?"

"I expect he drove back to the cottage once the sky broke," Damian answered, pulling the second chair closer to hers. He reached for the remaining bowl, decided it was best to eat for the sake of their hosts’ hospitality.

Damian’s thoughts darkened for a moment.

’Louis must have known about the terrain and the weather. That cunning fellow likely planned this little "adventure" to force a bit of proximity,’ he mused.

"The carriage driver will bring help, won’t he? I mean, we aren’t exactly stuck, but it’s a long way back," Eilika murmured, her voice still a little weary from the day’s exertion.

"Don’t worry about him. Worry about yourself," Damian asserted, his tone firm. "You cannot afford to get sick. Not after everything." He finally took a spoonful of the warm soup, the simple, earthy flavors a far cry from the seasoned delicacies he was used to.

Eilika watched him, her brow arching slightly. "Are you actually okay having that? You don’t need to force yourself just to be polite," she added, knowing how particular he could be about his surroundings.

"I have no wish to hurt our hosts’ sentiments," he clarified, his gaze meeting hers over the rim of the bowl. "Besides, I trust the honesty of a farmer’s hearth far more than I trust the food vendors sell in the city markets."

A small, genuine smile touched Eilika’s lips. It was a surprising respect for the common folk. She turned back to her own meal, the warmth of the soup and the fire finally chasing the shiver from her body.

"Roman must be worrying for us," Eilika murmured.

"I doubt it," Damian replied.

"He is a child, Damian. A downpour this violent can be frightening when your parents are caught in the thick of it," she countered, her motherly instincts flaring.

"Roman knows his father is with you," Damian explained, turning to look at her. "In his mind, that makes you invincible. Besides, Louis has looked after him since the day he was born; he knows exactly how to soothe the boy’s anxieties and turn a storm into an adventure."

Eilika nodded, though a trace of lingering concern remained in her gaze. She finished the last of her soup, the warmth of the broth finally chasing away the chill of the hike. "I will go and thank the couple for their hospitality," she said, setting her empty bowl onto the wooden tray.

"I’ve finished as well." Damian tipped the bowl back to drain the last of the liquid, his movements efficient and unpretentious despite his noble standing. He placed it beside hers with a soft thud.

Eilika stepped out of the room, her soft boots quiet on the packed-dirt floor. She made her way toward the small, partitioned kitchen, intending to offer her gratitude. However, as she reached the door, the strained voices of their hosts drifted through the wood, halting her in her tracks.

"The harvest was even thinner than we feared, Freya," the man whispered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "The crops simply didn’t take this year."

"I know," the woman replied softly. "But our son is still in the capital, and his tuition won’t wait. I’ve managed to squirrel away these savings over the last two months. You must take them to his uncle so the boy can finish his studies."

"But Freya, that’s everything we have," the man protested gently. "I have a few coins hidden away myself... You should keep those for an emergency. We can’t give him every last bit."

Eilika felt a sharp pang of guilt at the realization that the soup they had just enjoyed might have been a luxury these people could ill afford.

She took several silent steps back before returning to the room.

Damian, who had been focused on smoothing the rough linens of the small cot to make it comfortable for Eilika, paused as she re-entered the room.

He noticed her expression as she carefully set the tray down on a low wooden stool.

"Damian," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic drumming of the rain on the thatch roof. "The couple... They are struggling deeply with their finances. I accidentally overheard them speaking in the kitchen."

Damian’s brow furrowed, his protective instincts instantly pivoting toward the welfare of those under his care. "What is it? What did you hear?"

"The harvest failed them this season," Eilika explained, her eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "They are at their wits’ end trying to scrape together enough for their son’s tuition in the capital. They were debating which of their last meager savings to sacrifice. We cannot simply leave after eating their food and taking their bed."

"I will see to it," Damian stated. "If the crops here have suffered, it is likely a blight affecting the entire valley. I will summon the newly appointed mayor tomorrow to discuss a tax reprieve and emergency grain distribution."

Eilika watched him, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "It is a noble plan, Damian. But did you notice something beautiful? Those who have the least are often the ones most ready to give their everything, even to total strangers like us."

"It is because simplicity and honesty have never left their lives," he mused. "In the mansions like ours, every gift has a price. Here, the only price is the kindness of the heart."