Lexi had never been one to get attached easily. People were pawns, and pawns could be discarded once they'd served their purpose.
But this one was different.
The soldier—her first experiment, her first knight had proven more useful than she ever imagined. He shadowed her every step, performed every task without question, and most importantly, he had no desires of his own. He did not hunger. He did not sleep. He did not falter.
He existed only for her.
For days, he moved wordlessly through her space, cooking, cleaning, following, guarding. Every time she glanced at him, standing silently at attention like a statue brought to life, a strange feeling pricked at her chest. Not affection—not quite—but something close to recognition.
It felt wrong to keep calling him nothing.
One afternoon, she stood before him in the clearing near the glowing pond. The air shimmered with warmth, and the soldier stood tall, silent, his broad shoulders squared. His eyes glowed faintly, focused only on her.
Lexi tilted her head, lips curling. "You need a name."
His brows twitched slightly, though his voice remained steady. "Mistress, I am whatever you wish me to be."
"That's the problem." She circled him slowly, her eyes tracing the hard lines of his body, the way he carried himself with the discipline of his former life. "You're too blank. Too empty. If you're mine, you should have a name that belongs to me."
Her fingers tapped her chin, a smirk tugging at her mouth. Then, softly, she whispered, "Derek."
The soldier—no, Derek—lowered his head instantly. "Yes, Mistress."
Lexi's smirk deepened. Hearing the word roll from his lips, obedient and absolute, stirred something fierce in her chest. She stepped closer, pressing her palm to his jaw, tilting his face upward. His skin was cool, his eyes unblinking, but his focus never wavered.
"From now on, you are Derek," she declared. "My first knight."
And he bowed deeply, one hand across his chest, sealing the vow.
Life within the space changed after that.
Derek became not just her shadow, but her sparring partner. Lexi had grown restless, and resting on beauty alone wasn't enough. She needed more—power, agility, precision. And Derek, tireless and unbreakable, was the perfect opponent.
At first, their duels were clumsy. Lexi swung her blade hard but predictable, and Derek easily countered every strike. His movements were unnervingly precise, a soldier's instincts sharpened by her pond's strange power. He never tired, never faltered. When she gasped for breath, drenched in sweat, he stood tall and calm as ever.
Lexi discovered that the water from the pond made Derek stronger every day, perhaps because he was no longer human.
Frustration lit her veins.
She was never one to surrender.
Every day, she forced herself harder. She pushed her body until her limbs screamed, until sweat poured down her back. She forced herself to bend, stretch, twist—testing the limits of her new strength. And slowly, she began to change.
Her movements grew lighter, more agile. She dodged Derek's attacks with feline grace, slipping just out of reach, her smirk flashing like a challenge. She learned to twist her body in ways that left him off-balance, striking when least expected.
Her flexibility became a weapon.
And paired with her beauty—it was devastating.
There were times, mid-duel, when she would flip her hair back, her lips parting in a sly smile, and she would see Derek hesitate. Not because he was tempted—he had no human desires—but because her allure carried an almost supernatural weight. Her beauty was surreal now, sharpened into something that could disarm, distract, and trap.
She laughed the first time she realized it. "Even you can't look away, Derek. How will men outside fare?"
Derek dropped to one knee immediately, head bowed. "You are irresistible, Mistress. None will stand against you."
Lexi's smirk widened. "Good. That's exactly what I want."
The days bled together, each duel carving her sharper, faster, deadlier. Derek was relentless, but that only fueled her. She began to anticipate his strikes, reading the twitch of his shoulders, the shift of his stance. She danced around him like a flame, agile and untouchable.
When she collapsed onto the grass after a session, her body aching but her chest heaving with exhilaration, Derek would stand over her, unbothered, unmoved, waiting only for her command.
That, too, fascinated her.
She once asked, between gulps of water, "Derek… do you never tire? Never hunger? Never feel thirst?"
He shook his head. "No, Mistress. My only need is to serve you."
Lexi's eyes narrowed with intrigue. So he is beyond human needs. A perfect soldier.
It meant she could push him endlessly, test him without restraint. It also meant he was not a man—not really. But that, strangely, made her trust him more. He could not betray her. He could not abandon her for ambition or desire.
He was hers.
Completely.
One night, after a long spar, Lexi lay sprawled across her bed, sweat cooling on her skin, her lips curved in satisfaction. Derek stood guard by the door as always, his silent presence both reassuring and commanding.
She studied him from the corner of her eye. His broad shoulders, his unwavering posture, the way he seemed carved from stone. He was dangerously charming, though not in the way Nathan had been—wild, burning, human—but there was a strength in him that pleased her.
"You know, Derek," she murmured, her voice husky with amusement, "you're the only one I trust right now."
He inclined his head slightly. "I exist only for your trust, Mistress."
Her smile deepened.
And in that moment, Lexi realized something important.
She didn't need an army yet. Not now. Power was intoxicating, but patience was sweeter. If she rushed, she might lose control. If she took her time, built herself into something untouchable first, then when she finally gathered her army… nothing would stop her.
Derek was enough.
For now.
Every day after, she grew more dangerous. Her beauty, already mesmerizing, became her armor and her weapon. Her body, agile and sharp, was honed against Derek's tireless strength. Her mind, always scheming, sharpened with plans of what would come.
And every night, when Derek knelt by her bed, head bowed in eternal loyalty, Lexi smiled in the shadows.
A queen did not rush.
A queen built her throne first.
And Lexi, in her endless bright paradise, was doing just that.