Seraphina walked toward the administration building until she was out of sight of the pavilion.
She checked over her shoulder. No Theodore.
She let out a breath. She shook her arms, trying to shake off the boredom that had settled into her bones.
"Harmonics," she muttered. "Two grams."
She looked at the administration building.
It was full of paperwork. Boring, tedious paperwork.
But compared to a lecture on oil viscosity, paperwork sounded like a party.
She took a step toward the door.
Then she stopped.
She didn't want paperwork. She wanted... conversation.
Real conversation.
She wanted to talk to someone who looked at her face, not her sword pommel.
She turned sharp left.
She headed straight for the library wing.
She knew Marcus would be there. He had mentioned he liked the quiet of the library courtyard in the afternoons.
She found him sitting on a stone bench near the fountain.
He was holding a book about agricultural reform.
He wasn't reading it. He was staring at the fountain like he wanted to drown himself in it.
Leaves were stuck in his hair. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek.
He looked like he had been rolling in a hedge.
"Lord Marcus," she said.
Marcus jumped. He nearly dropped the book.
He looked up. His eyes went wide. He looked guilty.
"Professor!" he squeaked. "How was... your break?"
Seraphina sat down on the bench opposite him. She didn't ask permission.
"Educational," she said dryly. "I learned a great deal about mineral oil."
Marcus winced. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I see. Theodore is... passionate."
"He certainly is. But how did you know that I learned it from Theodore"
Marcus' expression went deadpan, followed by a long silence.
Seraphina smoothed her robes. She looked at Marcus.
"He knows a lot about steel," she admitted. "He treats it with reverence."
"He does," Marcus agreed quickly.
He leaned forward. "He treats everything he loves with reverence. That's a good quality, isn't it?"
"It is," Seraphina said. "For a blacksmith."
She paused.
"Or a soldier."
"Theo is a soldier," Marcus said. "A warrior."
"I know."
Seraphina looked at the fountain. The water bubbled cheerfully.
"He didn't ask me a single question," she said quietly.
"He was nervous!" Marcus lied.
"He wasn't nervous, Marcus. He was bored."
"Bored? No! He loves swords!"
"Exactly. He loves swords. He was bored by everything that wasn't metal. Including me."
She turned her gaze back to Marcus. Her eyes were sharp. Analytical.
"You asked me about my grief," she said.
The air in the courtyard changed. It grew heavy. Intimate.
"You asked me about my dreams," she continued. "You asked me if I was tired."
"That's different," Marcus deflected.
He shifted on the bench. "I'm... older. I've lived more."
"Have you?"
"Yes. Definitely. Decades... I mean, years."
Seraphina laughed.
It was a real laugh. Not the polite social noise she gave Theodore. It was warm and rich.
"You're terrible at this," she said.
"At what?"
"At whatever game you're playing." She gestured between them. "Trying to sell me your brother like he's a prize stallion."
"He is a prize!" Marcus insisted.
"He's a boy who likes swords," Seraphina corrected. "And that's fine. He's a good student. He will be a great warrior."
She leaned back. She looked up at the sky.
"But I don't need a warrior, Marcus. I married a warrior. I buried a warrior."
Marcus went silent.
The agricultural reform book slid off his lap. It hit the ground with a thud.
"What do you need?" Marcus asked.
He couldn't help himself. The life coach in him took over.
The part of him that just wanted to help.
Seraphina looked at him.
She really looked at him. She saw the dirt on his cheek. She saw the leaves in his hair. She saw the desperate kindness in his gray-blue eyes.
"Someone who knows that linseed oil isn't the most interesting thing in the world," she said softly.
"Someone who brings me tea when I'm working late."
Marcus swallowed hard. His throat felt dry.
"Those are specific requirements," he managed to say.
"I'm a demanding woman."
She stood up. She brushed a petal off her skirt.
"Walk with me?" she asked. "I have a free hour. And I promise not to lecture you about pommel harmonics."
Marcus stood up.
He felt the diagram in his pocket. The one with the 'romantic lighting' calculations for Theodore.
He crumbled it in his fist.
"I'd love to," he said.
They walked out of the courtyard together. They walked close. Their shoulders brushed.
From the balcony above, a figure watched them.
Damien Blackthorn leaned against the stone railing. He was eating an apple.
He took a loud, crunchy bite.
"Interesting," he murmured.
He watched Marcus laughing at something Seraphina said.
He watched Seraphina looking at Marcus like he was the only person in the world.
"The NPC is stealing the route," Damien whispered.
He chuckled.
"While the protagonist is stuck in the tutorial, and the side character is speed-running the romance arc."
He took another bite of the apple.
"This plot... is broken."
✧✧✧
Marcus returned home three hours later.
He had failed. Again.
He had spent sixty minutes talking to Seraphina.
They had talked about education reform. They had debated the nature of magic.
They had agreed that the academy cafeteria food was a crime against humanity.
They had laughed. They had argued. They had connected.
Theodore's name had come up exactly zero times after the initial conversation.
Marcus hung his coat on the rack. He stared at his reflection in the hallway mirror.
"I am the worst wingman in history," he told the mirror.
The mirror didn't disagree.
He heard a rhythmic scraping sound coming from the training room.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
He walked down the hall. He peeked inside.
Theodore was sitting on a bench. He was polishing his sword.
He looked happy. He looked peaceful.
"Brother!" Theo looked up. He beamed. "You were right about the pavilion."
"Was I?" Marcus asked weakly.
"Yes! I had a great conversation with Professor Ashwood."
"Did you?"
"She really listened," Theo said. He held the sword up to the light. "Most people glaze over when I talk about edge geometry. But she nodded the whole time."
"She's... very polite."
"She respects the craft," Theo said.
He wiped the blade with a cloth. "I think we really bonded."
"Bonded," Marcus repeated. The word tasted like ash.
"Yes. Over the importance of proper maintenance."
Theo stood up. He took a practice swing. The sword cut the air with a sharp hiss.
"I think she likes me, Brother. You were right."
Marcus looked at his brother's happy, oblivious face.
He looked at the sword that was clearly the love of Theo's life.
He thought about Seraphina's laugh in the courtyard.
He thought about the way she had looked at him.
"Yeah," Marcus said.
His voice was hollow. "She definitely likes... something."
"I'm going to oil the scabbard now," Theo announced. "Do you want to watch?"
"No," Marcus said. "I think I need to go lie down."
"Rest well, Brother! We can plan the next patrol tomorrow!"
Marcus walked to his room.
He closed the door. He leaned against it.
He needed to redraw his diagrams. He needed a new plan.
He needed to stop falling in love with his brother's future wife.
"Tomorrow," Marcus whispered to the dark room. "Tomorrow I fix this."
He didn't believe a word of it.
.
.
.
A/N:
Thank you for reading today's chapter! If you enjoyed the it, please consider dropping a Power Stone to help us climb the charts.
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