Chapter 41: I Don’t Care

"With sufficient training and mana capacity, constructing a solid-state shadow construct in the shape of a wyvern is entirely feasible. As for the consumption of hostile targets... yes. That could be arranged."

"Yes!" Seraphina cheered, stabbing a piece of cake with her silver fork. "I’m going to make a shadow dragon, and I’ll name him Fluffy, and he will eat all the bad people with the gray fog!"

She was babbling nonsense, mixing horrific dark magic theory with childish whimsy, and Kaelus found himself responding with absolute, deadpan seriousness.

It was bizarre, awkward, and incredibly comforting.

’He really cares,’ Seraphina thought, a warm, fuzzy feeling expanding in her chest that had nothing to do with the sugar rush.

She watched him carefully wipe a spot of spilled water from the table with his napkin.

He was so big, so intimidating, yet he was sitting here listening to her talk about imaginary shadow pets.

She remembered her past life, the empty apartment, the silence that stretched on for days, the sheer, crushing loneliness of having no one to share a meal with.

She was a pawn.

He had made that clear.

She was a tool to be used against his enemies.

But as she took another bite of the decadent cake, she looked into his violet eyes and made a final, concrete decision.

She didn’t care.

If being a pawn meant she got to hold his massive, warm hand.

If being a pawn meant she never had to sleep in a freezing, ghost-infested room again.

If being a pawn meant someone actually listened to her when she spoke... she would be the best, most loyal, most dangerous pawn on the board.

She would gladly stand in the crosshairs of the Empire for him.

She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps a rare, genuine ’thank you’, when the soft chime of the balcony door opening interrupted her.

Kaelus did not immediately reach for his sword, which was highly unusual.

His posture shifted, yes, but it did not coil into the tense, lethal spring of a man preparing for combat.

Instead, a look of mild surprise, followed quickly by a relaxed familiarity, washed over his features.

Seraphina stopped chewing.

She followed his gaze.

Standing in the doorway of the private balcony was a man.

He was dressed simply, but the materials were exceptionally fine.

He wore a traveling cloak of deep azure silk, the hood pulled up to obscure his features.

The rest of his attire, a white linen shirt, a fitted waistcoat, and dark trousers, spoke of quiet, understated wealth, completely lacking the gaudy jewels and excessive embroidery favored by the typical nobility.

The man stepped onto the balcony, completely ignoring the fact that he was walking into the personal space of the Reaper of the North.

The oppressive, heavy aura that usually surrounded Kaelus did not seem to affect him in the slightest.

"I heard whispers that a storm had rolled into Oakhaven," the man said. His voice was incredibly pleasant, smooth, rich, and melodic.

It was the kind of voice that naturally commanded attention without needing to shout.

Kaelus leaned back in his chair, a rare, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"The storm is merely passing through, Julian," Kaelus replied, his tone lacking its usual razor edge. "Though I admit, I did not expect the master of the house to track me to a pastry shop."

Julian.

Seraphina’s eyes widened.

This was him.

This was Marquess Julian Myer, the man Kaelus respected, the good noble who had saved his people from the plague.

The Marquess chuckled softly, stepping fully into the light of the balcony and reaching up to pull his silk hood back.

"When the Black Bastion enters my city and then promptly abandons their liege lord in the market square, one tends to get curious," Julian said smoothly.

As the hood fell away, Seraphina’s breath hitched.

He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen in either of her lives.

He looked like he had stepped directly out of a romantic painting.

He had perfectly styled hair the color of spun silver, falling gracefully to his shoulders.

His facial features were sharp, aristocratic, and impossibly refined, lacking any of the rugged scars or harsh lines that defined Kaelus.

But it was his eyes that were truly striking.

They were a brilliant, luminous gold, radiating warmth, intelligence, and an undeniable, gentle charisma.

He was radiant.

He was the perfect, idealized image of a fairy-tale prince.

Julian turned his golden gaze away from Kaelus and looked down at the tiny girl sitting across the table.

His expression softened instantly, melting into a look of absolute, disarming kindness.

He smiled at her.

It was a perfect, dazzling smile.

"Well now," Julian murmured, his voice as soft as velvet. "I believe congratulations are in order, Kaelus. You did not mention you had acquired such a beautiful little treasure."

Splat.

The silver fork slipped from Seraphina’s numb fingers.

The large piece of chocolate cake she had been holding fell, hitting the pristine white tablecloth with a messy, heavy thud.

Kaelus’s smirk vanished instantly.

He looked from the dropped cake to Seraphina’s wide, unblinking eyes, and then up to Julian’s flawless, smiling face.

A sudden, entirely irrational sour spike of irritation flared in Kaelus’s chest.

’Is she... stunned?’ Kaelus thought, his jaw clenching tight enough to crack a walnut. ’She dropped her food from her hand. She never drops her food. Is she swooning over a pretty face? She is only six years old! And he is just a soft, southern dandy who has never held a real sword in his life! I am sitting right here!’

The Reaper of the North, a man who had faced down demonic hordes without a flicker of emotion, was currently experiencing a petty wave of fatherly jealousy.

He glared at Julian, his violet eyes suddenly promising a very painful death if the Marquess didn’t stop smiling.