The courtyard had quieted. The spectators drifted away. But Evander remained, his sword forgotten on the ground, his eyes fixed on her.
Seraphine sheathed Vermillion Fang. Her skin glistened with sweat, strands of raven hair clinging to her cheek, her breath steady despite the ferocity she'd displayed.
"You fight like the gods carved you for war, " Evander murmured ,stepping closer.
She turned, her gaze piercing, "Do you always flirt after being defeated? "
His lips turned into a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something deeper there. Fascination. Attraction. A man trying to understand the storm that just consumed him.
"Only when I lose beautifully. "
She quirked an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Instead she walked past him, her cape trailing behind her. But just as she reached the archway, he spoke again - softer this time, as if confessing,
"Your blade...it suits you. Dangerous. Unforgiving... Breathtaking. "
Seraphine paused.
For a moment, she said nothing. Then without turning, she replied, "It only cuts those who think they can tame it. "
"She's.... Something else. " He whispered to himself with a soft smile. Then walked towards her, "Let's go. They're waiting. "
As they walked through the quiet palace corridor Seraphine's step slowed. Evander matched her pace, silent, hands behind his back. He wasn't a man of many words but when he looked at her, it was as if he saw something more than a warrior or a crown.
"I thought I knew what strength was, " he said suddenly, voice low, "But watching you weild that blade.... It was art. "
Seraphine glanced at him, brows lifted in slight surprise, "You speak like a poet now? "
He chuckled, "Only when the muse is this.. Fierce. "
She turned away but not before he saw it - the soft lift at the corner of her lips.
As they reached the dining hall, her father, King Alderon, stood tall and proud at the head of the table. Beside him, her mother, Queen Elaria, offered her a soft smile, knowing and touched with something like concern.
Across the table sat Duke Thorne and his wife - Evander's parents, draped in sapphire and gold.
"You made quite the impression, daughter," said her father, voice laced with proud, "The court sings of your blade more than your beauty. "
Seraphine gave a forced smile, "Then let them sing. "
A soft laugh echoed from Duke Thorne, "And still... Beauty remains undeniable. A perfect match for our Evander. I believe this union will strengthen both kingdoms. "
Her smile faltered, only for a moment. Talk of union felt like shackles, velvet - lined, gold - laced, but still chains.
Evander stepped forward. "Princess Seraphine, " he said, his tone soft and respectful, "It would be my honor to stand by your side... not just in alliance, but in battle, if you'll have me. "
The remnants of the fight still echoed in her bones. "Then may the battlefield be your proving ground, prince. "
The room laughed softly at her poised reply.
Seraphine sat poised, her posture perfect. Evander took the seat beside her.
Duke Thorne spoke of trade and alliance.
"I must say, " Duchess Thorne began, her tone warm but calculated, "The spar was quite the spectacle. Your daughter handles blade as if born with it. "
"She was. " King Alderon replied simply , not a hint of jest in his voice.
Evander smiled, "She left my hands numb and pride bruised. Your blade - what do you call it? "
"Vermillion Fang. " Seraphine answered. Her voice smooth, "Forged for me when I was twelve. The hilt bears a dragon. A symbol of what I burn for. "
Evander leaned closer, his voice low, nearly tender, "And what is it you burn for, princess? "
Her gaze cut to him, sharp, "Not for love. "
The silence that followed was deafening.
Evander didn't retreat. He simply nodded, "Then I'll find a way to earn a place in your fire. "
As laughter rose and wine flowed, Seraphine's fingers stiffened. A subtle stillness settled in her limbs, like a wolf sensing a predator beyond the brush.
Her eyes flicked towards the shadowed archway.
No one stood there.
Yet... She felt him.
She turned her gaze back to the table.
She couldn't explain it. Didn't even know if it was real.
But she felt him.