“Lady Fiala,” the general muttered, bobbing in an awkward bow, “These two scoundrels forced the city gate and injured my men! I, uhm, took the liberty of binding them and bringing them here for your judgment.”
A sheet of shadow rolled across Yuliana’s face. The courtyard temperature seemed to plummet. She strode forward and struck—one palm, then the other—each slap echoing like a hammer on bronze. The officer reeled, eyes spinning, palms pressed to burning cheeks.
“You reckless fool! Do you even know whom you dared to shackle? He is Mr. Jared Chance, savior of this kingdom. Touch him again and I will see you stripped of rank, and perhaps of life!”
Color left the officer’s face. Knees buckled, armor clanged, and he collapsed, a dark stain spreading across his trousers as terror overruled dignity.
“M-Mr. Chance, Lady Fiala, forgive me, I was blind, utterly blind. Please, spare this worthless life!”
Jared’s name had long risen through level seven like sunrise, whispered in taverns, etched into military briefings. Aurelius himself had ordered every soldier to remember that name, for without Jared, Celestia might already lie in ruins.
Watching how miserable the man was, Jared felt a ripple of pity. He lifted a hand. “Enough… Ignorance is fault enough, I will not add blood to it. Stand up, then remember humility, or next time mercy may be harder to find.”
The officer fled, blessedly alive.
Yuliana turned back to Jared, violet eyes sparkling with unhidden delight, the fury already gone like breath on glass. “Jared, you’re finally here! I have waited, counted dawns, hoping you would walk through those gates!”
“Yuliana, I came to ask a favor. I need everything you know about the current clan leader of the celestials,” Jared said with a smile.
“Not in the open, walls have ears. Come inside!” She twined her fingers through his and guided him across polished tiles toward her room.
Flaxseed, catching the mood, whistled softly and stationed himself outside the door like a lazy sentry.
Once inside, Yuliana pushed the cedar panels shut, the click of the latch sealing them from the murmuring palace corridors.
She faced Jared in the lamplight, desire and purpose mingling in the blaze of her gaze, as though he were both lost friend and long-awaited answer to a thousand unspoken prayers.
The moment Jared shut the courtyard gate behind him, Yuliana burst forward like spring released from the snow. In a single breath, she crossed the tiled walk and threw herself against his chest, her perfume flooding the cool twilight air.
“Jared, I missed you, missed you more than words could ever repay,” she breathed, the soft complaint tangled with a teasing lilt that made the words feel like silk brushing skin.
Her sudden warmth stunned him. For half a heartbeat, he simply stood there, arms hovering uselessly, until instinct eclipsed surprise.
“Yuliana, I’ve missed you, too.” He curved his arms around her waist, then added in a lower, steadier voice, “But there’s urgent business, something about the Celestial chieftain…”
“Not tonight. Tonight you are mine. No plots, no wars, just stay.” Her eyes, bright as amethyst, rose to his.
Before the last syllable cooled, she tipped up on her toes and pressed a fierce, silencing kiss to his mouth.
For a flicker of time, Jared resisted, duty flaring like a warning drum. Then the heat of her lips swept the argument from his mind the way wind scatters embers, and he answered with equal hunger.
Their bodies locked together, they moved across the lamplit chamber.
Yuliana’s fingers found his, guiding him toward the wide cedar bed where moonlight pooled in silver squares. What followed was not merely passion but the quiet, ancient art of sharing strength, two souls weaving power the way dawn braids light.
During that silent communion, Jared felt a river of raw spiritual energy surge between their hearts, cycling, refining, leaving his limbs thrumming with new life.
The current soothed his weary flesh, polished each meridian, and nudged his cultivation a shade higher, as though one more rung had been notched into an endless ladder.
Yuliana glowed as well, cheeks flushed rose, eyes crystalline and sharp, like a blossom that had drunk the first pure rain of spring.
Afterward, they lay tangled beneath linen sheets, the room scented with sandalwood and quiet triumph.
“Jared…” she murmured, head pillowed on his shoulder, “Digging into that clan leader, has something gone wrong out there?”
He nodded, gaze drifting across the rafters as he told her everything, every danger on level eight, Maxwell’s sacrifice, and the fact that he wished to find the clan leader and settle the score with him.
Worry tightened Yuliana’s brow, the earlier glow shaded now by storm-gray concern.
“That clan leader is little more than legend to people like us,” she said. “I can escort you to King Aurelius, but even he lives far below such secrets, and none of us even knows who he is.”
