Cesaalie sat on her desk, reading a book with unwavering focus. Suddenly he heavy door clicked open, making her flinch. Her heart jumped for a second, instinct sharpened, that stupid flicker of panic rushing in before her brain caught up.
She immediately looked back towards the door and it was just davian.
Cessalie exhaled softly, her shoulders easing.
She didn't say anything at first, but the faint pinch of her brow gave her away. Her thumb stayed pressed between the pages, marking her spot, while the other hand flipped the book shut with a quiet thud.
"You ever heard of knocking?" she asked, voice even, but carrying that sharp little edge that only slipped out when she was mildly annoyed.
Davian shut the door behind him, either ignoring the jab or choosing to, and walked directly toward her the space between them closing fast. He stood beside her chair, on the right side.
"I met Tiberius."
Cesaalie nodded, "Yes. How was the meeting?"
"He didn't call to threaten me," Davian said, resting his hand on edge hear of back of chair. "He proposed… an understanding."
Cessalie arched an eyebrow, turning fully to Davian now. "What kind of understanding?"
Davian relayed everything....Tiberius's offer, the controlled scandal plan, the promise to be the public shield for witches, the warning to be careful.
"And the scandal?" Davian asked, finishing the summary. "That's the only missing piece."
Cessalie's fingers tapped lightly on the closed book, her eyes distant for a moment as her mind worked. Then, slowly, that sharp, dangerous smile pulled at her lips.
The soft clink of Cessalie's pendant filled the quiet as she leaned against the edge of desk, arms crossed, eyes on Davian.
"Start from the beginning," she said simply. "The real beginning. I can't design a scandal if I don't know how their little empire works."
Davian's jaw flexed slightly, but he nodded. "Alright."
He rested his palms flat on the surface of desk, his eyes fixed on hers.
"The Temple isn't just a place of prayers and robes," he began. "It is structured, layered and protected power."
Cessalie listened.
"There are branches all over Valkathra. Every major city, every border town. But the heart, the real command, sits in the capital. Right beside the royal palace."
"The Temple harvests magic," Davian continued. "That's how they say it. But it's just a polished way of saying they take it from those who misuse it, from those they deem unworthy, from those too weak to control it."
Cessalie's brows arched faintly. "And who decides who's unworthy?"
Davian's smile was dry. "The same men who benefit from the decision."
He straightened, pacing slightly behind her as he spoke. "They control magic education. Healing, combat magic, enchantments, ift all starts with them. Universities, training halls, even the damn apprenticeships . You can't learn magic without Temple approval."
Cessalie's eyes narrowed. "And the borders?"
"The temples at the edges of Valkathra maintain the magical barrier through three walls. It keeps monsters, nemy spells, rogue magic out andi protects the entire kingdom."
She absorbed that quietly. "So, they look like guardians to the common people."
Davian shook his head gently, "they are guardians," he sighed. "But that doesn't make them saints. Their grip on magic gives them leverage, over the court, people, and even royal family to an extent."
Cessalie's smirk returned faintly. "Except Tiberius."
Davian's lips twitched. "Except Tiberius."
A pause settled between them.
Cessalie finally uncrossed her arms, turning herself bck towards window, hands resting in desk as she looked out.
"Good," she murmured. " I might know where to stab."
She fell silent, thinking deeply, staring outside at nothing. Davian didn't interrupt her just stared at her and occasionally tried to find what she was focused on. Cesaalie was not thinking some master plan. She was trying to focus on something obvious that was away from eyes of people.
Finally, she straightened, her eyes on him now. "If the Temple holds its power through fear… we give them fear. But not of witches and rebellion." She tilted her head slightly, her coral strands slipping over her shoulder. "Fear of their own cracks."
Davian folded his arms. "You're circling the point."
Cessalie smiled faintly. "The scandal isn't about outsiders, Duke. It's about inside, about incompetence, about failure."
She stood up, tapping her finger lightly against the wood of desk. "You said the border temples maintain the barrier?"
Davian nodded. "Yes."
"And has that barrier ever… slipped of weakend somewhere?"
Silence hung for a second.
Davian's eyes narrowed, thinming. "You want to fake a breach?"
Cessalie's smirk deepened. "No not a fake breach. Highlight a real one. There's always weaknesses. Magic isn't perfect. All we need is one small incident, terrifying enough. A monster slipping through. An 'unnoticed' gap..nust enough to stir whispers."
She leaned her hips against desk. "The Temple looks weak, people question them. And who steps in as the calm voice of reason?" she raised her finger. "Tiberius."
Davian exhaled, part frustration, part reluctant admiration. "You're insane."
"No." She moved past Davian, her steps slow, stopping just behind him. "It is very obvious idea. It's just...people go for some mastermind tactics but we need to focus on something very obvious and basic."
Her voice dropped. "They built their empire on the promise of protection. The moment that promise cracks, so does their monopoly."
Davian stayed quiet for a long beat. Then… he nodded once.
"I'll send word to Tiberius. Hell give information about it. " His eyes met hers. "We find the crack. You craft the story."
Cessalie's smile didn't falter. "Good."
The first real blow to the Temple was already in motion. Cesaalie clapped enthusiastically, feeling powerful and important for once.
Davian's little smile still curled at his mouth as he watched her, like she was the most dangerous thing in the room, and maybe the most fascinating.
"Remind me," he said teasingly, "never to end up on your bad side. You'd have me walking straight into my own execution with a smile on my face."
Cessalie arched a brow, laughing. "You wouldn't even see it coming."
His smirk deepened, eyes dragging over her face in that lingering, way. "Wouldn't want to." He tilted his head, voice dropping just a little. "Besides… someone like you? You shouldn't have to play these games under someone else's name."
Her jaw tensed, but she kept her expression neutral. "I don't plan to."
"That's the problem," Davian murmured, stepping in closer, just a breath of space between them now. "You talk like the world lets women move freely without a man beside them." His smile stayed, but there was a flicker beneath it... Something cessalie didn't seem to understand. "It doesn't."
Cessalie's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't need a man to be free."
"You will need me, but."
Before she could shoot back, his hand lifted, brushing a strand of her hair back, his fingers ghosting along her jaw, thumb lingering at her chin.
"You're dangerous when you fight quietly," he said, voice low now, like the room itself had folded smaller around them. "But you're… something else entirely when you stop pretending you don't want someone backing you."
She should've stepped away. She knew that was the smart thing. But her body froze somewhere between warning and curiosity, and that stupid warmth coiled in her chest again. That ridiculous first-love thing, fluttery and reckless.
And Davian? He noticed. His eyes dipped to her mouth, and that was all it took. His hand slid to the back of her neck, gentle, and then his lips were on hers, the kind of kiss that wasn't asking permission because it already knew.
He turned her around and her back hit the desk edge before she even registered moving. His other hand found her waist, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her dress, anchoring her there.
The kiss wasn't desperate, but it wasn't shy either. Cesaalie responded back. When he finally pulled back, his face hovered close, breath mingling with hers.
"You're going to need me more than you think," he whispered, softly teasing. But Cessalie's gut twisted beneath. She didn't like to joke sbout it. It felt like a warning to her.
She said nothing.
Her fingertips lingered against his chest for a heartbeat, tracing the edge of his coat before she eased him back, creating space between them—enough to keep the moment alive, but not enough to shatter it completely.
Davian didn't resist. He straightened slightly, watching her with that calm, unreadable gaze. Cessalie's eyes flicked to the side, her jaw tightening. She refused to meet him, stubborn as a mule, unwilling to bend to whatever he had just said.
"I should get back to my reading," she muttered, smoothing her sleeves as if his words hadn't stirred her thoughts into a quiet turmoil.
Davian didn't move. His eyes remained on her face for a long moment before he took a small step back, sliding his hands into his coat pockets.
"Of course," he said smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Wouldn't want to distract you. That dangerous little mind of yours needs space to scheme."
Cessalie turned toward her desk, but his words followed her, crawling along her spine.
"And for the record…" His voice softened, dipping lower, gentler. "I like when you need me, Cessalie, even if you pretend you don't."
She didn't answer. She hated being told she needed someone. She hated feeling weak or reliant, especially when it was obvious that he noticed.
Her fingers flipped open the book, but her eyes didn't follow the lines. She stayed still, letting his presence linger in the room like a shadow she couldn't push away.
Eventually, she heard the soft click of the door, followed by the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.
Only then did her shoulders relax, and her hand lifted to her lips. First love was foolish, especially when she refused to lean into him while he kept pressing closer. Yet she couldn't help herself. Every word, every look made her feel like she might melt into him. It was dangerous, reckless, and entirely her own doing.
But the thought of loneliness… that was far worse.