Sir Alex POV
Of course I knew she was coming.
The entire capital knew.
The king summoned her.
The council whispered about her.
Even the mage tower was arguing over her formulas.
But somehow…even with all the warnings…
I still wasn't prepared to see her—
Lady Seraphine Agro—
standing in front of my cousin Leonil's shop like she owned half the street.
Her carriage was parked outside, guarded only by Henry and Joff.
Only two.
Two.
For a woman who has become the living storm of the western territory.
Either she was fearless…or dangerously confident.
Probably both.
I nudged my horse closer, weaving through the crowd. And then—she saw me.
Gods.
The way she looked at me—
Like I was a freshly baked loaf of bread and she hadn't eaten in days.
A shiver shot down my spine.
Not fear.
Not disgust.
…Something worse. Something warm.
I cleared my throat, sat straighter, tried to look like the composed knight I was supposed to be—not a man about to melt under a woman's stare.
Seraphine was… beautiful in a way that made no sense.
Strong.
Bold.
Unfiltered.
Wild fire wrapped in curves and stubbornness. Not my type.
Princess Milabuella was my type.
Prim. Graceful. Gentle as soft music.
A mystery I wanted to unravel.
Lady Seraphine?
She was the opposite.
Loud.
Blunt.
Impossible to predict.
She spoke like she had no fear of kings, nobles, or gods.
And yet…
I couldn't tear my eyes away from her smile.
When I finally approached, my voice came out steadier than I felt. "Lady Seraphine. How was your travel?"
She tilted her head, grin sharp enough to slice my composure. "Well, Sir Alex, imagine riding for a week through dust, bandits, horses that fart at the worst times, and a magical spirit animal that keeps insulting my bathing schedule. How do you think it was?"
I blinked.
That was… not the answer I expected.
Leonil choked on his own laughter.
Coffi looked ready to bury herself.
Henry pinched the bridge of his nose like this was normal.
And me?
I—I blushed.
Heat crawled up my neck like a traitorous vine. "Ah—I see. That must have been… challenging."
She raised a brow. "Challenging? Sir, the last bandit we met fainted when I shouted at him."
I shouldn't find that funny. I shouldn't find that charming. But somehow—I did. Gods, what was wrong with me? This woman was a hurricane. A chaotic whirlwind of sass and unpredictable words.
And still…I wanted to hear her talk again. Just one more sentence. Even if it made me blush again like an inexperienced squire.
I exhaled slowly. "Welcome to the capital, Lady Seraphine."
And when she smiled—bright, wild, unafraid—my heart did something very, very stupid.
******
Hours later, after patrol and paperwork, I returned to Leonil's compound.
Mostly to check security.
…Partly to check on her. (And no, I will deny that in court if questioned.)
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
Lady Seraphine had transformed.
Her hair—clean, soft, shining like she stole the moon's light.
Her dress—new, elegant, flattering without even trying.
Her shoes—simple but polished.
Her presence—impossible to ignore.
And yet she sat there like a stuffed duck, cheeks puffed, eyes half-dead.
Leonil, the traitor, had fed her too much again.
Coffi whispered, "She ate ten cookies… and three cups of tea… and another two cookies."
Seraphine weakly raised a hand. "It was eleven. Don't erase my achievements."
Gods.
These people would be the death of me.
I cleared my throat, straightened my uniform, and approached her with the seriousness required of a knight addressing an unpredictable walking disaster.
"Lady Seraphine."
She blinked up at me, slowly… like a cat too full to move.
Coffi gently nudged her upright.
Time to be responsible. Time to be professional. Time to pretend her smile did NOT make my ears turn red earlier. "You are expected at the council chamber tomorrow," I told her carefully. "There will be a formal audience with His Majesty the King—and with Princess Milabuella."
Her eyes sharpened a little at that. Of course they did.
I continued, voice firm: "I suggest you take any sass, any bluntness, and answer them with knowledge, diplomacy, and maybe a little—just a little—loyalty to the crown. Understood?"
She stared at me for a moment.
Then—
"Sir Alex," she said slowly, "if you remove my sass, you remove my soul."
I closed my eyes. "Lady Seraphine—"
"No sass equals no personality."
"That's… not what I meant."
"Sounds like what you meant."
I rubbed my temples. Leonil tried not to laugh. Coffi failed and snorted into her sleeve.
Why was I the one assigned to this woman? Why was I the one who had to handle the incoming chaos? And why—why in the gods' name—was I not angry about it?
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Please try not to insult the king."
She shrugged. "Depends on the questions."
I sighed again, "Lady Seraphine."
"What? I'm honest."
I exhaled through my nose in defeat. This woman was impossible.
And yet… When she glanced away, cheeks still a little warm from earlier, something tugged at my chest. I ignored it. Bad idea to acknowledge it.
"Coffi," I said, turning to her maid, "make sure she gets enough rest. And perhaps… fewer cookies."
Coffi nodded solemnly. "I'll try, Sir Alex. But she bites."
Seraphine gasped. "Lies!"
Coffi held up a finger. "The baker incident."
"That man stole my garlic bun!"
"You tackled him."
"He deserved it!"
I sighed. Deeply. Painfully.
Tomorrow, she would be facing the king. The council. The mages. The princess.
And I—younger than most knights but somehow already suffering headaches like a 70-year-old—was responsible for making sure she didn't start a diplomatic war.
Gods help us all.