"I see. Well, what are you planning to do then?" Aeloria asked, genuinely curious.
"That, I don't know. I'll have to hear what my father has to say before I can make a decision."
"But why did you choose to come here instead of going to an inn like you've been doing?" Aeloria shifted slightly, adjusting her folded arm under her head.
"The inns are no longer safe. No one will suspect that I'll be staying with a commoner."
"Hmm."
For a while, there was silence.
Ramai watched how smooth and toned her skin was.
"Can you tell me why you refuse to give me permission to court you?" Ramai asked at last.
"You may have good intentions, but I can't say the same about your family. Surely you don't suppose they'll accept me with open arms."
"I see where your fear lies. In all honesty, I suppose you're right. They definitely will do everything in their power to oppose my choice." Hanon responded and he stared deeply into her eyes.
'Those noble daughters always apply artificial items to elevate their appearances. This must be ehat natural beauty looks like."
"You really are beautiful, Aeloria." Ramai unconsciously stretched out his hand and gently touched her cheeks for half a heartbeat.
He quickly pulled away when her realised what he just did.
"I'm sorry Aeloria. I really should use the boards. I'm a man after all." Ramai was just about to step down when Aeloria held his hand.
"I... I don't mind." The words struck Ramai like lightning. After a whole year of persistent pestering, he finally earned her permission. But, it felt too easy. After all the rejection, why now?
He gulped, then spoke.
"Aeloria, you... I would very much appreciate it if you didn't play with my feelings like that." Hanon was a bit angry this time.
"I am not jesting though." With those words, it felt as though all the shackles holding him back was broken at once.
He leaned in closer and gently planted his lips on hers.
"I said you could touch me, I didn't say you could do whatever you wanted. Either way. I still don't mind. If it's you, then I'll allow it, just this once. After you settle your family's dispute, get their permision using whatever means necessary and I'm yours." With those words, he lined in again.
This time, he didn't just plant his lips, his hands slipped under her gown, crawled up until the warm of her soft chest filled his palm.
'This feeling is totally different. What a pleasant aura she has around her.'
Embrace, clothes taken off, bare bodies gently rubbing against each other in the quite night, rhythmic movement of the hips, soft moans. Changing position with hips tightly pressed against each other, soft chest in hand.
In the quite hours of the night, man and woman stayed awake for many heartbeats.
Ramai turned to look at Aeloria sleeping soundly beside him.
"I may not be able to return. With how things are going, I'm not sure I'll be able to survive much longer. But even if I die to day, I will have no regrets, because I just had a wonderful night.
He planted his lips gently on her forehead and embraced her in his arms as he closed his eyes. The smile on his face never faded, even as he slept.
The memories blurred together as Aeloria drifted off. She remembered hearing Ramai say something as she slept but couldn't remember what.
As Aeloria and Yoru slept soundly, the great doors of the throne hall in Runevale had swung open with a low, mournful groan.
Orin stepped through alone with graceful steps.
At the required distance he dropped to one knee, his right fist planted against the floor, his head bowed in perfect deference.
"Good morning, my lady, you called for me." he said in a humbled voice.
Queen Nyxelene sat upon the throne exactly where she always sat. Today she wore a gown the colour of fresh blood trimmed in silver thread. A thick, ancient book lay open across her lap; she had been reading the same volume for over a year, turning one page every few days as though drawing poison slowly from its words.
Her crimson eyes lifted from the page and settled on the commander kneeling before her.
"Come closer, Orin."
The command was soft, yet the air itself seemed to freeze at the sound of it.
Orin rose and walked forward with the confident stride of a man who had faced death a thousand times, climbed the three shallow steps, and stopped two paces from the throne. He met her gaze without flinching—until she stood.
The book slid from her lap and settled on the armrest with a soft thud.
Nyxelene closed the distance that separated them and came to stand directly in front of him. Even though he towered over her by more than a head, something in those eyes made the floor feel suddenly unsteady.
She stared back at him.
Orin's knees buckled as though an invisible hand had struck him behind the legs. Both knees slammed into the marble so hard the impact echoed through the hall.
Cold dread poured through his veins like iced water. 'What is this terrifying feeling? It's though I'll die if I didn't kneel before the person in front of me.'
The queen reached out with deliberate gentleness and lifted his chin so he would look at her. Orin's gaze dropped instantly to the floor; he could not hold those crimson eyes for even a heartbeat.
With the same slow care she brushed her fingertips across the small scars that crisscrossed his cheek, then traced the long, pale line that ran from his jaw down the side of his neck, wiping them away as though they were nothing more than specks of dust on a treasured blade.
Orin's skin prickled where her fingers brushed it.
'Why is her hand so cold? Her fingers are even colder,' he thought, a chill crawling up his arm.
Nyxelene finally drew her hand away and spoke.
"Sorry. You had something on your face," she said almost playfully
She extended her hand. Orin took it without hesitation and rose to his full height.
Nyxelene turned, the blood-and-silver gown dragging across the floor, and walked back to the platinum-and-gold throne.
She settled into it with the same effortless grace she used for everything, lifted the ancient book from the armrest, and placed it once more across her lap.
"A few days ago, I sent you a recruit. Her name was Aeloria. Tell me, did she find you, how is she doing?"
Orin took one deliberate step backward, as though the air itself grew thinner the closer he stood to her.
"Your insight knows no bounds, my lady. She arrived this morning, and was as exceptional as the only other recruit you ever personally recommended. Inside the kingdom and beyond our borders, the name Aeloria the Cannibal is already known and feared because of the rumors. I'm sure she'll be a great asset to our ranks."
Nyxelene's crimson eyes flicked up from the page for a heartbeat.
"I see."
She turned another page with deliberate slowness.
"Then I grant you full permission to teach her Šërēĺįťh after you've deemed her worthy."
Orin froze—just slightly, just enough for someone listening closely to notice.
"Are you certain, my lady? I do not mean to object, but… teaching her the language would place her among the very few who know it."
"I am certain. She has earned the right to enter the circle."
She turned another page, the parchment rustling like dry leaves.
"I know what you are thinking, Orin. You fear that giving her this power will only sharpen her hunger for revenge against the Almon family. Let her choose what she will. It changes nothing. I judge all equally, and I punish equally. If she ever commits treason, she will be dealt with like any other. Dismissed," Nyxelene answered without looking up.
She waved one pale hand in a lazy arc, already returning to her book.
Orin bowed, turned to leave, then paused at the top of the steps.
"Even without knowing Šërēĺįťh, she is unnaturally strong, and heals from every wound. Do you happen to know why, my lady?" He asked, curiosity finally overriding procedure.
Nyxelene did not raise her eyes from the page as she spoke.
"Before a child is born, some say its soul lingers near the mother, watching, and protecting her. At least… that is what I choose to believe." Her voice softened at the edge.
"That little girl saw every struggle her mother endured, every impossible choice. If I had to guess, I would say the child's spirit refused to leave her mother defenceless in the dead lands of Squora. It reshaped her—turned her into something feral, something that could survive anything. But I do not know for certain. This is the first time such a transformation has ever happened in exactly this way."
Orin bowed again, deeper this time.
"I see. Thank you, my lady."
He strode toward the towering doors.
"You are headed to the training fields of Ohlm tomorrow, are you not?" her voice drifted after him.
Orin stopped and turned.
"That is correct, my lady."
"Then see Ramius before you leave."
He nodded once and stepped into the corridor.
The massive doors thudded shut behind him.
The moment they closed, Orin let out a long, slow breath and rolled his shoulders.
"Gods, it's so suffocating trying to keep up that noble speech around her. But I have to endure it though. She is Lady Nyxelene, after all," he muttered under his breath.
A lazy, amused voice came from his left.
"What are you complaining about now? You are a noble, if my memory serves me correctly? Or did the title of Tyrant wash all that pretty etiquette away?"
The palace guards flanking the doors snapped to perfect attention.
Orin's head whipped toward the speaker—a tall man leaning against a pillar, his arms were folded and had a long blond hair falling in golden waves over his shoulders, his eyes were the colour of summer sky and twice as mocking.
"I thought you were supposed to be the smartest mind in Runevale, Ramius. So tell me, are you truly trying to pick a fight with me this late hour? Do you want to die?" Orin growled, cracking his knuckles.
Ramius pushed off the pillar with a lazy grin.
"Oh please. As if you could ever beat me in a fair duel."