The day after the tournament, the palace was alive with activity.
The news of Shadow and Storm spread faster than Aric would have liked.
Fortunately, no one had officially connected the fighters to his real name, but some of the soldiers' glances hinted that suspicions were growing.
In the war council hall, a large table awaited them, covered in maps, fortress models, and troop rosters. Aric and Jered stood on opposite sides, the map of the northern borders spread between them.
> "If anything stirs again in the north," Aric began, pointing to a narrow valley between two mountain ranges, "this will be their first target. We need to fortify it. New patrol posts here, ballistae moved to this ridge…"
Jered nodded, moving a few wooden markers.
> "And if they come through the western forests? That terrain is perfect for ambushes."
> "Exactly why we'll station light units there — fast-moving, lightly armed."
The hours slipped by in strategy — every line, every fortress, every supply route examined and re-examined. Officers joined in, adding their own notes and suggestions.
At last, Aric stepped back from the table.
> "We'll wrap up for today. I'll be here on time tomorrow, but this defensive planning is critical. Have everything ready for the next session."
He turned to leave, passing by Jered — and caught that look. The all-too-familiar, smug little grin his friend couldn't hide.
> "What?" Aric asked, slowing just for a heartbeat.
> "Nothing," Jered replied — but the glint in his eyes said everything.
Aric shook his head and walked out, leaving Jered with the others.
---
When I stepped into her chambers, the air was warm, filled with candlelight and the faint, sweet scent that was hers alone.
She was sitting at the table, not the stern mage who had drilled me in runes, but a woman whose eyes betrayed a different kind of strength — and vulnerability.
Her dress shimmered softly in the firelight, flowing over her figure, elegant and alluring. She rose as I entered, and though no words were spoken, I felt the meaning in her gaze: this was not a night for lessons or duty.
> "Sit," she said with a gentle smile, her voice carrying a weight that went deeper than command.
Dinner was only a prelude. We spoke, laughed, let the wine loosen the edges of our caution — but beneath it all, her eyes never let mine go. Every glance carried unspoken questions, unspoken promises.
At last, I stood. She mirrored me, reaching out, her fingers brushing mine. The simple touch burned with more meaning than any kiss could have. She guided me toward her bedchamber, each step hesitant, yet certain.
Inside, she turned, her back to me, and with a quiet breath let her dress fall away. For a moment I saw her not as a teacher, not as a warrior, but as someone baring her truest self before me.
> "I've never…" she whispered, stopping, uncertainty softening her voice.
> "Neither have I," I admitted. We had both faced death without fear, yet here, together, we were trembling.
I closed the distance, my arms wrapping around her, feeling her warmth against me. She leaned into the embrace, her breath quickening. When our lips met, it wasn't hunger that drove us — it was longing, a release of everything we had held back until now.
The kiss deepened, and soon we were lost in it, in each other. We lay down together, hesitant at first, then with growing certainty, our bodies learning the rhythm our hearts already knew. Her hands clung to me, mine to her, as if letting go would break the fragile spell we had cast.
Every moment was new — clumsy, tender, overwhelming. We moved slowly, guided less by knowledge than by instinct, every gasp and touch a discovery, every heartbeat a promise.
When at last we collapsed into each other's arms, the candles still flickering around us, she whispered against my chest:
> "This was always meant to be."
And I knew she was right.