Aiden's steps echoed down the narrow stone corridor, each strike of his greaves a reminder that armor did not only shield the body—it caged the heart.

The iron scent of sweat and steel clung to him, heavy as guilt. By the time he reached the small room assigned to him, his shoulders ached from the day's burdens and from the truth he carried like a secret flame.

The door creaked shut behind him, muffling the distant clamor of knights and squires. He sat heavily on the straw-matted bed, the wooden frame groaning as though sharing his exhaustion.

Piece by piece he removed the armor: first the gauntlets, then the breastplate, each clang against the floor a punctuation to his thoughts.

The knights of Leonidas… He let the thought linger, sour and sharp. This was no single brotherhood. It was a tangled web of allegiance: the knighthood of two earldoms, four baronhoods, each faction pulling against the others.

Augustus had sent him here with purpose—but what purpose? Of course the purpose he himself falsely whispered in his ears.

The steel cuirass slid from his chest with a final rasp, leaving his lungs bare to breathe.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the air heavy with the musk of mildew and flies. The room was small, narrower than the servant's quarters he had once slept in as a child.

The irony bit him. He had been raised in Tite, fed scraps, yet his pallet there had been cleaner than this soldier's bunk.

Here, even the flies seemed to mock him, orbiting lazily as though guarding his solitude.

He exhaled through his nose, bitter laughter rising unbidden. Knight. Slayer. Noble's tool. Emperor's shadow. And yet, still a man sleeping with vermin.

Through the slit of a narrow window, his gaze fell beyond the barracks. Three castles loomed in the garrison's heart. Not sprawling palaces like the viscount's holdings, but stern fortresses of stone and iron.

They rose like clenched fists against the horizon. There the qualified high ranking knights lodged: the earls, the barons, their favored sons—Aethal among them.

Offices, councils, chambers of plotting and command. Aiden's ember stirred at the sight, a heat that rose not from pride but from the endless gnaw of ambition. The office in which Augustus writes, here it comes to fruition.

He pressed his hand against the sill, the rough stone biting into his palm. 'One day, those towers will not look down on me. I will look down on them.'

The ember within him flared brighter, a coal refusing to die.

He finished removing the rest of his armor, his body sighing in relief. The linen beneath clung damp to his skin.

Fresh air seeped through the window, carrying the faint scent of horses and forge smoke, bitter but honest. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself the luxury of stillness.

Then came the knock.

Knock knock!

Three sharp raps against the door. Not hesitant. Not demanding. Measured.

Aiden's lips curled. He knew who it was. Not the person themselves, but the answer to the request he had made.

He had asked Catherine to send someone to him. And Catherine—dutiful, clever, perhaps mischievous—had not delayed.

He rose, bare feet whispering across cold stone. His hand brushed the door, pausing just long enough for anticipation to coil tight in his chest. Then he pulled it open.

There she was.

Akidna.

Her smile was a dawn he had not realized he longed for. She bowed with a practiced grace, but her eyes shone with warmth, and her voice, sweet as honey poured over old wounds, rose to greet him. "Sir Aiden."

Not Aiden. Not the familiar intimacy of friend or lover. "Sir Aiden." The formality struck him strange, both a gift and a barrier.

Before he could speak, movement stirred behind her. Tanya. She lingered just beyond the threshold, shy as a doe on the edge of a clearing. Her presence carried its own weight—fragile, unresolved.

Aiden's chest tightened. The memory of that night pressed upon him, unwanted and yet unshakable: the night of his incubus form, the night of tangled bodies, desperate need, a hunger that stripped pretense from them all.

Tanya had avoided him since. He could see it in the way she lowered her eyes, in the way her hands twisted against her skirt. She had once stepped toward him, timidly, with interest unspoken—but marriage had chained her, and he had turned her aside. Yet fate, ever cruel, circled her back into his orbit.

The more, the merrier. Or the more, the heavier.

Akidna stepped aside with a smile, and behind her—

His breath caught.

Amber.

She stood robed in a nun's uniform, pale cloth wrapped around her form, the emblem of devotion glinting faintly in the lantern light.

Her amber green eyes, mirrors of her name, locked onto him with unflinching need. For a heartbeat, Aiden forgot the barracks, forgot the castles, forgot even the ember within him.

"Amber…" His voice cracked, low and incredulous. "Why are you...here?"

She closed the distance with suddenness, her hand rising to beat against his chest. The thud reverberated not in flesh but in memory. "Why are you asking why I'm here?" she demanded, her cheeks puffed, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I missed you, Aiden. And here you are, questioning me."

Her words pierced deeper than any blade.

He caught her wrist gently, his thumb brushing over the pulse hammering beneath her skin. "Amber… you shouldn't be here. Not in this place."

"I am here for you," she countered, voice breaking with sincerity. "At least to see you." She lifted her chin, stubbornness flickering in her gaze. "I asked for a transfer. From Leonidus capital to the church school. That way…" She faltered, breath catching, then steadied herself. "That way I could remain closer."

Akidna stepped forward, curious. "Closer? Or to meddle, Amber?" Her tone carried amusement, but the question was sharp.

Amber turned her amber gaze on Akidna, unwavering. "To see what matters," she said quietly. Then, her gaze met Aiden's, softening. "To see him."

Tanya shifted on her feet. "All this… for him?" she asked, voice barely audible. She dared not meet his gaze directly.

Aiden studied her face, the curve of her jaw, the flicker of defiance. His heart ached with both longing and warning. The closer she comes to me, the more she risks. The more they all risk.

"Why are you here, then? In the garrison itself?" His question carried more edge than he intended.

Amber puffed her cheeks again, a child's gesture worn by a woman's grief. "Because I was called."

"Called?"

Her eyes softened. "To heal. A slayer was found wounded, near death.... somebody with the name...ummm."

"Arina..." Akidna voiced.

The name struck the air like a tolling bell.

Arina.

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