Outside, an old trader was red with anger.
"She stole from me!"
"I paid you!" the woman cried back. "You cheated me!"
Ace listened calmly—then handed the woman money.
Cyma grabbed his arm. "Ace—why?"
"Trust me."
They followed her.
Inside the building, laughter echoed as coins clinked together.
"We played him perfectly," the woman bragged.
Ace leaned close to Cyma. His breath brushed her ear.
"I wanted her to feel safe."
Her pulse raced—not from the danger.
From him.
When they stepped out, the men lunged. Cyma moved without hesitation—swift, precise.
One man grabbed her wrist.
Ace's voice snapped. "Don't touch her."
The woman tried to flee. Ace caught her arm but immediately loosened his grip.
She pressed closer, her voice turning sultry. "My lord… surely we can talk—"
The slap echoed.
Cyma's fist had already connected.
"Disgusting," Cyma said coldly. "Using deceit and shame to survive."
She dragged her back to the trader.
When it was over, Ace turned to Cyma, his hands gentle as he examined hers.
"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"
"I'm fine," she whispered, suddenly aware of how close he was.
"You don't have to be strong all the time," he said softly.
Her heart skipped.
"I don't know how to be anything else," she replied.
"I do," he said. "And I'd protect you if you let me."
The words hung between them—dangerous and tempting.
As they walked toward the palace, the night air cool around them, Cyma finally asked, "The woman you love… are you married to her?"
Ace chuckled. "No."
She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"But," he continued, voice quieter, "I don't know if she sees me the way I see her."
Cyma stopped walking.
Ace turned. "What?"
She forced a smile. "Nothing."
He studied her face, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
As they walked through the quiet streets toward the palace, the night air cool against their skin, Cyma suddenly slowed her steps.
"Ace," she said.
He turned immediately. "What is it?"
She hesitated, then lifted her chin. "Earlier… at the market."
"Yes?
"You were too obvious," she said quietly.
Ace frowned. "Obvious how?"
She glanced around instinctively, lowering her voice. "You called my name too softly. You stepped in front of me. You told them not to touch me." She paused, then added, "You treated me like… a girl."
His brows furrowed. "Because you are—"
She cut him off quickly. "Not here."
Her eyes met his, firm but conflicted.
"I'm disguised as a man. You can't call attention to me. You can't hover. And you especially can't look at me like that in public."
"Like what?" he asked quietly.
"Like you're afraid I'll disappear if you blink."
Ace fell silent.
After a moment, he exhaled slowly. "I wasn't thinking."
"That's the problem," she said. "You don't think when it comes to me."
His lips twitched faintly. "Is that such a terrible thing?"
"It is when it puts us both in danger," she replied.
He nodded once. "Then tell me the rules."
She blinked. "What?"
"Tell me how to act around you," he said seriously. "So I don't cross a line."
Her heart tightened.
"In public," she said carefully, "you don't call me Cyma. You don't step in front of me unless I ask. You don't check my hands for bruises. And you don't—" her voice faltered "—look at me like I matter more than everyone else."
Ace studied her face. "And in private?"
Her breath caught. "There is no private."
A slow smile touched his lips. "Liar."
She scoffed, turning away. "Just… don't make it obvious."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And you? What about the way you look at me?"
She froze.
"I feel it," he continued softly. "Every time you think I'm not watching."
She swallowed. "You imagine things."
"Then why did you ask if I was married?"
She had no answer.
They resumed walking, silence thick between them.
After a while, Ace spoke again. "I'll try to remember you're a man."
She huffed a laugh. "Good."
"But don't ask me to forget who you are," he added quietly. "I don't think I'm capable of that."
Cyma said nothing—but her steps slowed, her heart betraying her calm.
Behind them, Hazard whispered to Nena "If this isn't love, then it's the most dangerous pretending I've ever seen."
And neither Ace nor Cyma heard him.
The night road was silent, too silent.
Zion slowed his horse, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. The men behind him were breathing hard, shoulders slumped, weapons hanging loosely at their sides.
"Something's wrong," one of them muttered.
Zion raised a fist. "Stay alert."
The darkness shifted.
Steel flashed.
"Bandits!" someone shouted.
They came from both sides, fast, organized. Zion fought back, blade clashing, but his arms were heavy, his breath uneven. One by one, his men were disarmed, forced to their knees.
Zion growled as rough hands wrenched his sword away.
"Tired heroes," one bandit laughed. "Easiest catch of the night."
Zion lifted his head defiantly. "You'll regret this."
A fist struck him across the jaw.
"Bind them."
Ropes tightened. Blood dripped from Zion's lip, but his glare remained unbroken
Then...
"Drop your weapons."
The voice cut through the night like a blade.
The bandits froze.
From the shadows emerged Dorian, sword already raised. Brooke stood beside him, bow drawn, eyes sharp. Behind them, the rest of the men who had stayed back to rest poured onto the road.
"Now," Dorian repeated calmly.
Chaos followed.
Steel rang. Arrows flew. The bandits fell one by one, scattering into the darkness.
Dorian cut Zion's ropes himself.
"You're free," he said simply.
Zion stood slowly, rubbing his wrists. He didn't look at Dorian right away.
Brooke stepped closer. "You're hurt."
"I've had worse," Zion replied coldly.
Dorian studied him. "You should have waited. The road isn't safe at night."
Zion's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for advice."
A tense silence stretched between them.
Finally, Zion turned to him, eyes sharp and unreadable.
"…Thanks."
Just one word. No smile, no bow. Then he turned away.
Brooke glanced at Dorian who looked at Zion walk past him, sensing the wall Zion had thrown up. "At least he thanked you even if it was dry" he said lightly, trying to ease the tension.
Dorian sheathed his sword. "That's enough for me."
As they regrouped, Zion remained distant—close enough to acknowledge the rescue, far enough to show he still didn't trust the man who saved his life and Dorian noticed but he said nothing.
Some debts were paid in silence—and some distrust took longer to fade.