By the time Kaela and I staggered out of the training courtyard, the late afternoon sun hung low and molten, casting shadows that stretched like talons across the flagstones. My shirt clung to me, heavy with sweat, the fabric sealing itself to my skin as if reluctant to let go. Every breath scraped its way into my lungs, my arms throbbed with the forge heat of overuse, and my legs—traitorous, quivering things—threatened to fold beneath me at any moment.
Kaela, naturally, looked untouched. Her breathing was calm, her stride unhurried, every strand of her dark hair still precisely in place. Even her training leathers seemed free of dust. The contrast made my teeth clench.
Two guards stood at the courtyard's arched gate, their armor catching the waning light. Their eyes flicked toward us, lingering far too long on the sweat glistening at my throat and the uneven rise of my chest. One arched a brow; the other leaned close, whispering behind a gauntleted hand, the sound sharp and conspiratorial.
"Don't tell me—" I muttered.
Kaela's smirk was pure provocation. "Too late. Half the palace knows by now."
---
The palace corridors, always an opulent maze of marble and gold, seemed thicker now—dense with whispers that slipped through the air like smoke. The shift was palpable: servants hesitating mid-step, hands pausing over silver trays, their eyes darting between Kaela and me. Somewhere between the training grounds and the main hall, the truth had already twisted into something far more salacious.
I caught stray pieces of gossip drifting like ash on the wind:
"—lasted an entire match—"
"—even made the Battle Maniac sweat—"
"—she smiled at him, you know—"
"—maybe she was holding back—"
"Held back?" I hissed. "She tried to kill me."
Kaela's golden eyes glinted sideways at me. "Exactly. Imagine how impressive you'd be if I told them you survived my real pace."
I gave her a flat look. "You're enjoying this far too much."
"Oh, absolutely," she said with such unshakable cheer that I nearly walked into a column.
"And what exactly do they think it means, you and me leaving the courtyard together?"
Kaela's smirk sharpened. "Whatever it is, I'm not going to correct them."
Before I could fire back, a shimmering notification blinked into view:
> [New Title Earned: Kaela's Equal (Rumored).]
Side Effects: Unwanted attention from every hot-blooded fighter in the palace.
---
The throne room doors opened to reveal the princess herself—reclined in her seat like a predator at rest. The throne was exquisite dark wood and ivory, yet she made it feel like an afterthought, a mere backdrop to her calculated presence.
Her gaze swept over me, lingering on the cling of my shirt and the uneven rhythm of my breath. One corner of her mouth curved in a slow, knowing smile.
"So it's true," she said, her voice smooth as silk over steel. "You made my Kaela work for it."
Kaela bowed. "As you commanded, Your Highness."
The princess rose, every step a deliberate piece of choreography. Nobles leaned forward in hushed silence, their curiosity practically humming in the air. She descended to stand before me, her proximity blurring the edges of thought.
Her fingers brushed my jaw in the lightest of touches—just enough to leave the ghost of warmth behind. She let the contact linger a moment longer than necessary, as though testing how still she could keep me under her gaze.
"He'll answer to me from now on," she declared. "You're mine."
The ripple through the crowd was immediate. I caught fragments—"claimed by the princess"—"dangerous game"—but I couldn't tell whether the voices carried approval or warning. My mind screamed at me to object, to set the record straight, but my voice refused to emerge.
---
Later, in a private chamber suffused with amber light, she dismissed her attendants with a flick of her hand. The scent of jasmine—and something darker, richer—curled through the air, coiling into my lungs until I felt light-headed.
She didn't speak right away.
When the heavy doors shut behind us, the noise of the court fell away, leaving only the muted rustle of her gown and the faint crackle of the hearth. The room was warmer than the hall, though the air felt no less charged. Gold light pooled across the polished floor, catching on the faint shimmer of her sleeves as she moved.
I stood where she'd left me, unsure whether to bow, speak, or simply endure the silence. My instincts screamed at me to treat her like a coiled blade—admire from a distance, never touch—but her gaze made distance impossible. It pulled at me like gravity.
"You're causing quite the stir," she said finally, her voice carrying the lazy satisfaction of a cat who had already trapped its prey. "A newcomer who survives Kaela? The court will have a field day."
"I'd prefer they didn't," I muttered, though my voice faltered when the silk of her gown brushed my sleeve.
"Rumors can't be undone," she murmured, circling closer. "And you…"
She stopped behind me, so close I could feel the faint rise and fall of her breathing. The warmth of her presence seeped through my skin, and though she didn't touch me, the space between us felt like a thread drawn taut.
"...are going to stay close to me for the next few days."
Another notification flared:
> [New Quest: Shadow the Princess in Public.]
Reward: +5 Charisma, increased influence in noble circles.
Failure: Public humiliation and loss of affection points.
I turned, catching her gaze. "You planned this."
"Of course," she replied, fingertips grazing the edge of my collar. Her hand lingered, the motion unhurried, as though she was taking the measure of both the fabric and the man wearing it. "What's the point of claiming something if no one sees it?"
Her thumb traced the hollow of my throat. I swallowed—and she smiled as though she'd won something I hadn't even realized I'd been competing for. A dangerous thought settled in my mind: she wasn't just claiming me for display. She was drawing me into a game whose rules I didn't yet understand.