Roxana stepped out of the library, clutching a stack of old folios to her chest. The leather bindings were cracked with age, the pages yellowed and crumbling beneath her fingers. The mages swore that somewhere among them were the schematics for sealing the rifts. She had found three variants. Now all that remained was to get them to the council hall before the advisors started tearing into each other without her.
She turned the corner—and ran straight into something solid, cold, and unmoving, like a wall of obsidian.
The books scattered across the stone floor with dull thuds.
“Careful, Princess,” a low voice sounded right above her ear.
Roxana looked up. Red lenses stared down at her, devoid of even a flicker of warmth. Black armor, a crimson cloak, a perfectly still posture. A guard.
“You—” she began, still trying to steady her breathing.
“I was standing here. You were walking without looking.”
He didn’t offer a hand. Didn’t move an inch. Just stood there with his arms crossed.
Roxana crouched to gather the scattered tomes. A faint cloud of dust rose into the air.
“I was looking for the right books,” she muttered without lifting her gaze. “Found three.”
“Congratulations.”
She froze, a book still in her hands.
“You could help.”
“I could.”
“And you’re not.”
“I’m not.”
Roxana straightened, brushing off the hem of her dress. She held the books in front of her now, like a shield. Leo didn’t move. The red lenses slid slowly over her face, over the stack of folios, over the dust on her skirt—and returned to her eyes. No sympathy. No interest.
“Are you always like this?” she asked, lifting her chin slightly.
“Like what?”
“Unpleasant.”
“I’m a guard. My job is to watch. Not to pick up books for princesses.”
“And scaring them—is that part of your duties too?”
“I was here first.”
She wanted to snap back, but he had already turned away. His cloak flicked sharply, his boots tapping softly against the stone. No haste, no delay. He simply left.
“Hey!”
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even look back. He just disappeared around the corner.
Roxana stood amid the scattered shadows, watching him go. Something pricked in her chest—strange. Not anger, not offense. Something sharper.
She, before whom generals bowed and envoys fawned, had just been… ignored. Not insulted. Not humiliated. Simply not noticed.
She tightened her hold on the books and, without hesitation, went after him.
Leo only took off his helmet once he was certain the dining hall was completely empty.
He sat in the far corner, at a table by a column. The stew had long gone cold. He wasn’t eating—just staring at the wall, replaying the moment she had run into him. The brief touch of her hand against his elbow. The way she had looked up at him without a trace of fear.
He heard her footsteps long before she appeared. Heavy, fast, angry.
He didn’t put the helmet back on. Couldn’t be bothered.
“Aha!” came from the entrance.
Roxana stood in the doorway, breathing hard, books in her arms. She saw his face—and froze.
Leo calmly picked up his spoon.
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“You…” she exhaled.
“Me,” he replied, and brought the spoon to his mouth.
She walked closer, set the stack of folios on the chair beside her, and sat down across from him without asking.
“You’re young,” she said after a long pause.
“Armor preserves the body well.”
“And the hair too?” she narrowed her eyes. “Have you been wearing that tin can for a thousand years?”
“I take it off when I eat. And when I sleep.”
“And right now you’re eating,” she nodded toward the nearly full bowl. “And you didn’t put it on, even though you heard me coming.”
Leo chewed slowly.
“You already saw my face in the corridor, I think.”
“Only your chin.”
“That was enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“To know I’m not a monster.”
Roxana stared at him. Without the red lenses, his eyes turned out to be ordinary—brown, tired, and unexpectedly alive.
“You really don’t look like a monster,” she said quietly.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’m aware.”
She smirked, but quickly hid the smile.
“You’re strange.”
“I know.”
“My brother’s strange too.”
“He told me.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That he’s strange as well.”
Roxana snorted.
“You’re both idiots.”
“That’s why we get along.”
Silence settled—heavy, but not awkward. She studied his face, as if trying to find a crack in it.
“Put your helmet on,” she said suddenly.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not used to seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“…alive. Beautiful.”
Leo pushed the bowl aside, picked up the helmet, and slowly put it on. The clasps clicked into place.
“Better now?” he asked, his voice distorted by metal.
Roxana stood, grabbing her books.
“Now you’re a guard again. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To find the maps. You’re taking me.”
“I’m not—”
“That’s not up for discussion.”
She headed for the exit without even looking back.
Leo watched her go. Beneath the visor, a crooked smirk slowly spread across his face.
“Bitch,” he murmured softly, almost fondly. “A real one.”
And followed after her.
They walked in silence.
Roxana in front, Leo a step behind—like a shadow. The books still made it hard for her to watch where she was going, but she refused to shift them. Though, before long, she handed them off to the guard anyway.
“You know,” she said without turning, “when I was little, I wore a mask too.”
“What kind?” Leo’s voice came muffled from beneath the helmet.
“A cold princess. One who never cries. Who needs nothing. Who stands above everyone.”
She smirked faintly at her own words.
“And?” he asked.
“I wore it for so long I almost forgot what it feels like to be myself. Without a mask.”
Leo was silent for several steps.
“And you?” she asked suddenly, stopping and turning to face him. “Do you remember what you were like… before you became just a Guard?”
The red lenses stared back at her, unmoving.
“I am a guard,” he answered evenly. “That’s all that remains.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
They stood facing each other in the empty corridor. The silence pressed in.
Roxana took half a step closer. Her voice dropped.
“Sometimes it feels like there’s someone… real under that armor. Someone who’s just as tired of pretending.”
Leo didn’t reply. Only his shoulders tensed, barely noticeable.
She reached out and lightly touched the cold pauldron.
“Don’t run from me, guard.”
“I’m not running.”
“You are,” she smiled faintly. “But I’ll catch you anyway.”
Leo said nothing. Inside the armor, his heart pounded—heavy, unfamiliar, too loud.
Roxana withdrew her hand, turned, and continued down the corridor, no longer in a hurry.
“Bitch,” he breathed under his breath, almost soundlessly.
She turned sharply.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard you.”
“You imagined it.”
Roxana narrowed her eyes, but something warm—and dangerous—flickered within them.
“I’ll remember that,” she said quietly. “Every word.”
And she walked on without looking back.
Leo stood there for a second longer, then exhaled heavily and followed.
Randel stood in the shadows at the end of the corridor and saw everything.
How his sister stepped out of the dining hall, confidently dragging the guard by the hand. How Leo carried her heavy books without even trying to pull free. How she spoke to him, while he simply followed in silence.
“Roxana,” he called calmly.
She stopped. Leo froze as well, as if he had run into an invisible wall.
“Brother,” Roxana smiled lightly, almost innocently. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Randel’s gaze shifted to Leo. Red lenses stared back at him, unmoving. “And you… what are you doing with her?”
“I was eating, and she took me against my will,” Leo answered quickly.
“You already ate,” Roxana cut in.
“I… was thinking about food,” the guard corrected himself.
Randel raised an eyebrow. The silence that followed was thick and awkward.
“Are you bullying my guard again?” he finally asked.
“Me?” Roxana widened her eyes. “Of course not. We’re just… talking.”
“She’s bullying me,” Leo confirmed quietly.
Roxana just snorted and tightened her grip on his hand.
“We’re going to look for the sealing maps. Coming with us?”
“No,” Randel shook his head. “I need to prepare the knights. Or did you forget what’s coming?”
“I didn’t forget,” she was already moving down the corridor again, pulling Leo along. “Let’s go, guard. The maps won’t wait.”
Leo glanced back over his shoulder. The red lenses met Randel’s eyes.
“Help…” he breathed, almost soundlessly.
Randel only smirked.
“I won’t. You got yourself into this.”
“I didn’t choose this.”
“She did,” Randel was already turning the other way. “That’s worse.”
Roxana tugged Leo’s hand, and they disappeared around the corner.
Randel watched them go for a few seconds longer.
Cassius appeared beside him without a sound.
“You saw that?” Randel asked.
“I did,” Cassius smirked. “Your ancient guard is in deep. And I think he actually likes it.”
Randel ran a hand over his face.
“Come on. We need to prepare the knights.”
“For the battle with the Darkness?” Cassius уточнил.
“With it, yes,” Randel nodded. “As for those two… let them deal with each other for now.”
“Think they’ll manage?”
“She’s stubborn. He’s an ancient stubborn bastard. Either they’ll find common ground, or they’ll kill each other.”
“The second option sounds more interesting,” Cassius snorted.
“Maybe,” Randel allowed himself a faint smile. “But first—the Darkness.”
They walked off in the opposite direction.