CHAPTER 201: WHO ARE YOU?

[Lavinia’s Pov—Training Field—Continuation]

The training grounds still reeked of iron and sweat when silence finally returned. The servants, visitors and knights dispersed in hushed murmurs, their eyes darting between the blood on the dirt and the girl who had spilled it.

I sheathed my sword with a sharp click, forcing my breath to steady even as my heart thundered. Victory should have tasted sweet. Instead, it burned bitter on my tongue.

Behind me, Osric hissed softly as the physician cinched the bandages around his arm. His gaze never wavered, fixed on me—unyielding, heavy, as though he could tether me to the earth with nothing but his will.

"Your Highness," Sir Aldric’s voice broke the silence, cautious, as if afraid to awaken the storm simmering beneath my skin. "Should we... report this matter to His Majesty?"

My red eyes swept toward him, sharp as drawn steel. "No."

The word cracked through the air like a whip, silencing every whisper. My tone was cold and unbending as I stepped closer. "Papa has weightier burdens than petty squabbles. Matters such as these... " I let my smirk curl slow and dangerous. "... I can crush on my own."

Sir Aldric dipped his head but I wasn’t finished. I flicked my gaze toward the shattered remains of Osric’s armor. "That safety plating was no accident. I want you to dig into it—quietly. Every craftsman, every coin, every name tied to its making. Leave no stone unturned."

He bowed low. "As you command, Your Highness."

Only then did I turn to Osric. His lips parted as though to speak, but I silenced him with a glance before striding forward. Without hesitation, I caught his injured hand in mine.

"You’re coming with me."

And just like that, before another soul could intervene, we vanished from the field—my grip tight around him.

***

[Dawnspire Wing—Imperial Palace—Inner Garden—Later]

The corridors swallowed us whole, the noise of the training grounds fading until only the sound of our footsteps and Osric’s uneven breathing remained. I didn’t stop until we reached the quiet shade of the inner garden, where no eyes dared intrude.

There, I turned sharply and pulled him into my arms.

Osric stiffened for a breath, then melted against me, his warmth grounding the storm still raging in my chest. My grip was fierce—too fierce perhaps—but I couldn’t loosen it. Not when the sight of his blood still painted my vision.

"It was just a scratch," he murmured with a crooked smile, his uninjured hand rising to pat my back gently. As though comforting a child. As though I hadn’t nearly slit a man’s throat in front of half the court.

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my red gaze burning into his. "A scratch?" My voice dripped with venom, the kind that made men tremble. "I don’t like my people bleeding, Osric. Not for me. Not for anyone."

My fingers clenched tighter around his sleeve, over the bandages beneath. "Every drop they make you and Papa shed feels like a crime against me. And crimes against me..." I let the words trail, my lips curving into something cruel and tender all at once. "...I answer with heads on pikes."

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and dangerous. Then Osric chuckled softly—reckless, fearless—as if my threat to butcher men was the sweetest vow he’d ever heard.

"You’ll terrify the whole Empire if you keep talking like that," he said, eyes gleaming with that quiet devotion I could never shake.

"Good," I whispered, my forehead pressing against his, my breath brushing his lips. "Let them tremble. So long as you smile only for me."

Then, slowly, Osric’s hand came up, calloused thumb brushing softly over my cheek. The gesture was careful and reverent, as if I were something fragile—something precious. His gaze lingered there, unwavering, his eyes drinking me in like I was the most beautiful moment he’d ever seen.

My breath hitched. The battlefield, the blood, the fury—gone. All that remained was his touch, his warmth, and the dangerous hammering of my heart.

Then, in that deep, steady voice of his, he asked, "Lavi..."

"Hmm?"

"May I kiss you?"

The words slammed into me harder than any blade ever could. My cheeks went crimson. I—Lavinia Devereux, future Empress of the Empire—suddenly felt my head bobbing like some awkward duck at the pond. Up, down, up, down—completely ridiculous, completely out of my control.

His lips curved into a smile before he leaned in—slow, deliberate, giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I closed my eyes. Prepared for my first ever kiss.

And then—

SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!!!

Except... he didn’t kiss me. Oh no. He attacked. He didn’t land softly on my lips or gently on my cheek. He latched on

like a starving man. My entire cheek disappeared into his mouth.

I froze. Stunned. Dumbfounded. My entire body locked as my brain tried to process the betrayal.

"W...What...WHAT WAS THAT!!!!!!!!!!!????"

He chuckled.

Meanwhile, I, with all the wounded dignity of a princess wronged, shoved at his chest and wailed, "Y–YOU... DID YOU JUST TRY TO SWALLOW ME WHOLE?!"

Osric, this traitor boyfriend, he laughed. Actually laughed—deep, unrestrained, the sound rumbling from his chest.

"My... my first kiss," I muttered, clutching my flaming cheek like it had been mortally wounded. "It wasn’t even a kiss. My... my boyfriend tried to eat me alive."

His chuckle grew into full-blown laughter, his shoulders shaking as he caught my hands again to keep me from swatting at him. "Forgive me, Lavi," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "I suppose I got greedy. You’re too sweet—I couldn’t help myself."

I narrowed my eyes, still pouting furiously, but my heart betrayed me with how fast it raced. "Hmph. Next time," I mumbled, glaring at the ground, "aim for my lips, not my skull."

A dangerous warmth glimmered in his gaze as his arm slid around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. His voice dipped low, teasing, but carrying something far more serious beneath it.

"So... you’re telling me I can aim for your lips?"

My breath caught. I blinked at him, wide-eyed, my face igniting like a torch. "I... I-It’s... going to happen... n-now or later... it’s... it’s the same thing!" The words tumbled out in a clumsy rush, my ears burning.

He chuckled softly, the sound wrapping around me like velvet, before tightening his hold. In one smooth motion, he lifted me off the ground, my toes dangling as he cradled me with ridiculous ease. His forehead brushed mine, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"I can’t imagine my life without you, Lavi..." His voice broke, raw and honest, as if the words had slipped straight from his soul.

Heat flooded my chest. My protests died on my tongue when he set me gently back down, his lips pressing against my forehead—soft, reverent, like a vow etched onto skin."How am I supposed to survive without you?" he whispered against me, his breath ghosting warm.

I clutched at his tunic, trembling, my own voice barely above a breath.

"You... don’t have to survive without me, Osric." My red eyes lifted to his, shimmering with something I couldn’t name. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

He smiled then—slow, unguarded, devastating—and pulled me into his arms again, holding me as though letting go would mean losing everything. My body melted against his warmth, and for once, I let myself lean, let myself fall into the safety of that embrace.

The world around us could have vanished, and I wouldn’t have cared.

***

[Lavinia’s Chamber—Night]

I plopped down on the couch after a warm bath, my damp hair brushing against my nightgown as I sank into the cushions.

"Where is Marshi?" I asked lazily.

Sera, tidying the folded sheets, glanced up. "He is... on his honeymoon, Your Highness."

Right. I’d completely forgotten. A flicker of amusement tugged my lips.

"You may leave, Sera," I said, waving a hand.

She bowed. "Then I shall close the balcony before—"

I cut her off sharply. "No need. Let it stay open."

Her eyes blinked in surprise, but she only nodded. "Have sweet dreams, Your Highness."

I inclined my head. "And you, Sera."

The door shut behind her with a sharp SLAM.

The chamber shifted. The air grew heavy and colder, and my eyes lost their softness, burning instead with icy sharpness. Crossing my leg over the other, I leaned back.

"Come in, Rey."

From the darkness of the balcony, a shadow peeled itself free. Rey emerged, leaning casually against the doorframe as though he owned the night itself. His lips curled into that infuriating smile.

"You sensed me again," he drawled.

My gaze didn’t waver. "It’s not that difficult now and...," I said slowly, savoring each word, "...I was waiting for you."

Rey pushed himself off the frame and strolled in with a predator’s ease. He dropped onto the couch across from me, tilting his head back, his eyes glinting in the candlelight.

"You should’ve prepared dessert," he teased, lips curving wickedly. "But I suppose conversation with my princess will suffice. So..." He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Why was my princess waiting for me tonight?"

I studied him, letting the silence stretch, letting him feel my eyes stripping away every mask he wore. Then, like a lioness circling her prey, I rose from my seat. My steps were unhurried and deliberate, each one echoing through the quiet chamber.

He blinked in surprise.

"There is something I want you to do, Rey..." I murmured, my voice silken with command. "But before that..." My smirk deepened as I let the words drip like poison honey.

"I want an answer."

His brows arched, his ever-playful smile tugging at the corners. "And what," he asked smoothly, "does my princess wish to know?"

My eyes narrowed, burning straight into his soul.

"WHO. ARE. YOU?"

The words cracked like a whip, filling the chamber with a deadly finality.