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“This wood has more fight in it than it looks,” he said, shaking his head. He crouched down, examining the broken pieces with careful fingers. “Too dry. It’s been out in the sun too long.”

He set the broken pieces aside and calmly reached for another plank, measuring it against the gap with the same patient precision as before.

She realized she was staring. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. The Egon in her memories would have taken the wood’s failure as a personal affront.

“You’ve changed,” she said before she could stop herself, and he tensed.

“Had to.” He resumed his work, not looking up. “Some lessons come harder than others.”

She watched him test the new plank, his movements deliberate and careful. The years had changed him in ways that went beyond the scars and increased muscle. There was a steadiness to him now, a measured patience she didn’t recognize.

She found herself wondering what experiences had tempered his rage into this calm determination. What had happened to the impulsive young male she’d once known?

Still puzzling over the changes in him, she picked up her beekeeping tools, planning to check the hives while he worked on the fence.

“What do you do with those?” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “I’ve never seen it up close.”

“Would you like to see?” she asked before she had a chance to reconsider it.

When he nodded she handed him the spare veil, watching as he carefully fitted it over his massive head. His tusks made it sit awkwardly, and she bit back a smile.

“The trick is to move slowly,” she explained, lighting the smoker. “Bees don’t like sudden movements or loud noises. They’re sensitive to mood too—they can sense fear or aggression.”

He nodded solemnly. “Like most creatures worth knowing.”

She’d never thought of it that way, but he was right.

As they approached the hives, she expected him to hang back. Most visitors did, intimidated by the buzzing clouds. Instead, he followed close behind her, his footsteps deliberately measured.

“I’ll open this one,” she said, puffing smoke at the entrance of her oldest hive. “The smoke calms them, makes them focus on the honey rather than us.”

She worked the tool under the lid, prying it up carefully. Bees rose in a gentle cloud as she lifted the cover. To her surprise, Egon didn’t flinch or step back. He leaned forward slightly, eyes wide with interest behind the veil.

“They’re smaller than I imagined,” he murmured.

She pulled out a frame heavy with honey and brood. “See here? The queen lays eggs in these cells. The workers tend them until they hatch.”

His big hands, which had hammered with such force on the fence, now hovered with impossible gentleness near the frame. A single bee landed on his gloved finger, and he held perfectly still, watching it.

“You’re good with them,” she said, surprised. “Most people get nervous, make the bees agitated.”

“They’re just protecting their home. I can respect that.”

She studied him as he carefully observed the bee crawling across his glove. The intensity of his focus, the controlled stillness of his body—it revealed a patience she’d never associated with him before.

“Would you like to hold the frame?” she offered, extending it toward him.

He gently took the frame from her hands, handling it with exquisite care. The bees continued their work, undisturbed by the transition.

“They’re so calm. They must trust you.”

“We have an understanding.” She shrugged, but she found herself smiling despite her determination to keep her guard up. “I protect them, they provide for me. It’s simple.”

But nothing about this moment felt simple. Standing beside him in her apiary, watching him handle her bees with such reverence, stirred emotions she’d locked away years ago. The contrast between his intimidating exterior and the gentleness he displayed confused her carefully constructed defenses.

“How did you learn this?” he asked, carefully returning the frame when she reached for it.

She slid it back into place, grateful for the familiar task that gave her hands something to do. “After I was—after I left Kel’Vara, I wandered for a while. For a while I found work on a farm where the old woman kept bees. She saw something in me, I guess, and she taught me everything she knew.”