The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 217 The Lone Wolf's Past

The small tent they had set up offered just enough space for the two of them. Mikhailis ducked slightly as he entered, followed closely by Cerys. The confined space left no room for comfort; they were shoulder-to-shoulder, and the warmth from their bodies filled the tiny enclosure. Cerys settled down, her movements stiff, her face slightly flushed as she tried to adjust. She looked so out of place—the Lone Wolf, someone more accustomed to the open fields, now forced to share a tiny space with a man whose very presence seemed to challenge her every boundary.

Mikhailis sat down opposite her, the tips of their knees almost touching. He glanced at her and saw how visibly tense she was, her eyes darting around the cramped tent, as if looking for a way to create more space where there was none.

"You know," Mikhailis said, trying to lighten the mood, "this isn't just any tent. It's a luxury suite, specifically crafted for a Lone Wolf and an eccentric prince. You should feel honored." He flashed her a playful grin.

Cerys scoffed at his remark, her lips curling slightly.

"A luxury suite? More like a glorified sack," she retorted, though a tiny smile appeared on her lips, softening her tense expression.

"Ah, I see you're catching on to my charm," Mikhailis said, giving her a wink. He leaned back as far as the limited space would allow, his eyes meeting hers.

"I'm glad you're smiling. It suits you, you know?"

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Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a guarded look. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the forest outside, the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.

Mikhailis studied her for a moment, noticing the way her eyes seemed to lose focus, as if she was retreating inside herself. He cleared his throat, his tone turning more gentle.

"The Lone Wolf," he repeated, almost to himself.

"You know, it's an interesting nickname." He paused, meeting her gaze again.

"Do you... want to tell me why they call you that?"

Cerys looked away, her expression hardening. She didn't answer right away, her gaze fixed on the floor of the tent. Mikhailis waited, giving her the time she needed. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Mikhailis nodded, his eyes soft.

"Only if you're willing to share. I won't push you."

She hesitated again, then sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a little.

"It's not a story that people usually want to hear," she said, her voice steadying.

"But... maybe tonight is different."

Mikhailis smiled gently, nodding for her to continue. He shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable as he listened, his attention fully on her.

"But before that," Cerys said, her eyes narrowing slightly, "you keep talking like you have everything figured out. Like you don't have any fears, any worries. How can you be so carefree, all the time?"

Mikhailis chuckled, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Carefree, huh? You know, it's funny. People say that about me a lot," he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"But it's not that I'm carefree. It's just that I've learned to find joy in the little things, to laugh even when it hurts. It's how I've survived."

"You... you remind me of my father," she admitted.

"He was... goofy, unserious. But he was reliable. He always made me feel safe."

Mikhailis smiled, his heart swelling with a warmth he couldn't quite describe.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said softly, his hand still holding hers.

Cerys looked away, her face flushed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm... I'm scared," she whispered.

"I'm scared of caring for anyone. Of losing them. It's... it's too much. I don't think I could handle it again."

Mikhailis nodded, his gaze gentle.

"I understand," he said.

"Losing someone you care about... it's the worst pain there is. But denying yourself the chance to care—to feel—that's also a kind of loss, isn't it? You deny yourself the warmth, the support that others can give you."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"It's okay to trust, Cerys. Especially me. I promise, I won't let you down."

Okay, I bet Rodion was laughing his ass off because of that cheesy line.

Cerys looked at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. His face was so close, his gaze so intense. She could feel her defenses crumbling, the walls she had built around herself slowly breaking down.

"You're afraid," Mikhailis said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"But you're searching for warmth, aren't you?"

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. Mikhailis watched her for a moment, then spoke again, his voice barely audible.

"You're the one I held two nights ago, aren't you?"

Cerys's breath caught, her body trembling. She looked at him, her eyes wide, her face flushed. Slowly, she nodded, her hands shaking.

Mikhailis reached out, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped. She closed her eyes, leaning slightly into his touch, her usual stoic expression softening, revealing the vulnerability she had tried so hard to hide.

"It's fine," Mikhailis whispered, his thumb brushing against her skin. They stayed like that for a moment, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside. Their breaths mingled, their faces inches apart. Mikhailis hesitated, giving her a chance to pull away. Instead, she closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

The kiss was gentle, uncertain, as if both were afraid to break the fragile connection between them. Mikhailis's hand moved to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he deepened the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. Cerys's hands moved to his shoulders, her fingers gripping his shirt as she leaned into him, her heart racing.

They broke the kiss slowly, their foreheads resting against each other's. Mikhailis smiled, his eyes meeting hers, his voice barely a whisper.

"It's all fine," he said, his thumb still brushing against her cheek, his eyes filled with warmth.

Cerys looked at him, her eyes glistening, her heart full. For the first time in a long time, she felt something other than fear, other than loneliness. She felt warmth—a connection she hadn't thought she could ever have again.

"It's all fine," she repeated, her voice soft, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. And for the first time, she believed it.