the Dark
"Two flames, each burning alone—until the night draws them close."
Part One### The Cave
Medea's brow furrowed at the sight of Cesare emerging from the shadows.
She assumed this was merely another chance encounter—never imagining he had tracked her all the way to this forsaken place.
She was about to inquire how he had found her when the mercenary strode toward her, his expression twisted with something she had never witnessed before.
Gone was the languid composure that usually graced his lips. His jaw was clenched tight, muscles rigid with barely contained tension.
The distance between them vanished in heartbeats.
"Medea."
And then—darkness filled her vision as solid arms enveloped her completely.
Medea was so stunned she momentarily forgot that he had addressed her by name—without title, without courtesy, without permission.
Before she could gather her wits, the mercenary's fury poured down upon her like a storm.
"Why must you be so reckless? Why do you insist on acting alone?"
His voice cracked with raw emotion.
"Do you not understand that possessing tools and refusing to use them is the height of foolishness?"
Medea stared up at him, bewildered. She could not fathom why this mercenary—this stranger—was so furious on her behalf.
"Akares, have you lost your mind?"
"There was no need to go to such extremes! You have loyal maids, devoted ministers, the Queen Dowager herself—yet you abandon them all and shoulder everything alone!"
His grip tightened.
"Why must you sacrifice yourself every single time?"
Inner Turmoil
His reason screamed at him to stop. But his instincts would not be silenced.
Damn it all—who do I truly see when I look at this woman?
Do I wish to save the Princess... or the child I once was, abandoned and alone?
He wanted desperately to make her understand that she was not alone.
He wanted to tell her that someone comprehended her isolation—that she could reach out and grasp his outstretched hand.
Yet Cesare knew the truth, bitter as poison.
Just as I would never believe such words... neither will she.
"Why must it be any different?"
As he had anticipated, the Princess posed her question with crystalline composure. Her expression remained as serene as still water—not a single ripple disturbed its surface.
"If you do not intend to treat me as a woman, I suggest you release my arm immediately. Otherwise..."
Her voice dropped to silk.
"The poison you so graciously provided me might find its way into your throat."
Only then did Cesare register the cold kiss of iron beneath his chin—a slender needle, positioned with surgical precision.
A rueful laugh escaped him. His arms slowly loosened their hold.
"...I have disgraced myself."
"Indeed. At least you recognize it."
The blunt response, offered without a shred of false courtesy, left a small wound upon his considerable pride.
Silence descended between them.
"What is the current situation at the palace?"
Medea's tone was utterly matter-of-fact. Cesare regarded her with something approaching disbelief.
"Princess, are you truly treating me as your personal messenger now?"
She offered no response—merely studied him in silence.
Moonlight spilled into the cave's mouth, illuminating Akares's figure with pale clarity.
Sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead. Dust and fragments of leaves adorned his arms and legs. His face was drawn and colorless with exhaustion.
And beneath his sleeves—hands stained an alarming shade of red.
Medea could not fully comprehend the meaning behind his earlier words. But one thing was unmistakably clear: this mercenary had come searching for her.
He had descended that treacherous cliff. He had tracked her hidden trail through the wilderness.
And yet... I feel no wariness toward him.
Perhaps it was the genuine concern she had glimpsed flickering through those clear golden eyes.
Cesare seemed to regain his composure at last, stepping back to a respectable distance.
"Sit. I was about to prepare dinner."
Medea gestured toward the fire without meeting his gaze.
"Allow me."
Cesare's eyes lingered on the small scratches marring her delicate hands. Without a word, he took the dagger from her grip.
Medea observed him quietly, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her green eyes.
Soon, a savory aroma began to fill the cave.
"I assumed your talents were limited to swordplay. It seems you possess some skill in the culinary arts as well."
Medea's praise emerged in her customary flat tone.
Years of wandering as a mercenary had evidently taught him to craft passable meals from the sparsest ingredients.
"Just eat."
Despite the curt response, he carefully broke off the end of the roasted rabbit—the portion least likely to prick her fingers on the branch—and offered it to her.
A strange irritation flickered through Cesare as he watched the Princess's small face—she appeared almost content, as though she were enjoying this wilderness excursion away from the palace.
"You certainly came well prepared."
Cesare's voice carried a note of exasperation as Medea produced a small pouch of salt and began seasoning her meat.
"Would you care for some?"
"No."
The refusal came swift and cold.
Medea shrugged and took a bite.
Not bad at all.
✦ ✦ ✦Part Two### Valdina Palace
"Have you heard? The Princess—at the hunting grounds—"
"Of course! Everyone knows. It was the young Duke Claudio who killed Her Highness!"
News of the tragedy spread through the palace like wildfire, leaping from tongue to tongue with each passing hour.
"Villain! Return our Princess to us!"
"What have you done for Valdina? What have any of you done?"
The rumors spread beyond the palace walls. Soon, even common folk in the streets had learned of Medea's disappearance—and their fury knew no bounds.
The Fourth Princess drummed her lacquered nails against the armrest, each click betraying her mounting anxiety.
The situation had spiraled far beyond anything she could control.
What am I to do? I never anticipated the Queen Dowager would recover her wits so swiftly.
Worse still, those ancient eyes had begun tracking the Katzen delegation with razor-sharp suspicion.
If they discover I was the one who released those wolves into the hunting grounds, I am finished.
A member of a diplomatic delegation orchestrating an assassination attempt against direct royalty of their host nation? Valdina might be a small kingdom, but such an offense would demand blood.
Samon—that incompetent fool! I should never have trusted him with something so critical!
"Your Highness."
The Fourth Princess nearly leaped from her skin. Kensington stood before her, his gaze uncomfortably penetrating.
"You seem... unsettled."
"I beg your pardon?"
"This matter. It has nothing to do with Your Highness, I trust?"
"How dare you!"
The accusation struck like a needle finding its mark. The Fourth Princess's temper flared.
"Count Kensington, do not fabricate accusations against the innocent! What possible connection could I have to the Princess's disappearance?"
She stormed from the room, leaving protests echoing in her wake.
"My lord, the Fourth Princess's reaction was most peculiar. Shall I investigate further?"
"Leave it be."
Kensington waved a dismissive hand, though weariness lined his features.
"Even if Her Highness is responsible, what recourse do we have? I would only find myself obligated to conceal her crimes—and share in her guilt."
He released a heavy sigh.
"I have devoted myself entirely to Katzen's interests, setting all else aside. But that does not grant them license to use me however they please."
The Fourth Princess. The Grand Duke. Even the Emperor himself.
A deep skepticism settled into Kensington's expression—the look of a man whose faith had been stretched too thin.
"What course would you suggest, my lord?"
"If you have the means, gather more intelligence regarding the Princess's circumstances."
Kensington's gaze fell to the map spread before him—the forest where she had vanished, dense swaths of green marking unexplored wilderness.
"Princess Medea would not be defeated so easily. She has orchestrated something—of that I am certain."
"You believe she planned this?"
"The question that troubles me is not whether she has a plan—but who she intends to strike."
Regent Claudio? The Fourth Princess? Grand Duke Castullo? Or perhaps... all three at once?
I can only pray she does not sweep everyone away with a single devastating stroke.
Kensington turned to gaze through the window at the Princess's distant palace, his expression grave with premonition.
✦ ✦ ✦Part Three### By the Firelight
Deep in the night, the forest temperature plummeted.
Crackle. Crackle.
The campfire's warmth pushed back the encroaching chill, casting dancing shadows across the cave walls.
"When do you intend to return?"
"Hmm."
A non-answer. Cesare studied Medea across the flames, then hesitated.
He had caught a glimpse of something—a shadow that had settled deep within those green eyes as she stared into the fire's crimson heart.
"What are your plans going forward?"
Medea fixed him with a look that clearly communicated: *Why would I share that with you?*
"You understand you cannot remain here indefinitely."
The mercenary was correct, and she knew it.
As time passed, memories would fade. Emotions would cool. She needed to make her return while suspicion toward the Regent still burned at its peak.
"Allow me to claim I discovered you near the Tower. It will smooth your reentry considerably."
The Magic Tower was an institution of legendary secrecy—one that steadfastly refused to participate in political affairs.
Yet its prestige and influence throughout the continent were beyond question.
I have been missing for several days now. Rumors will be unavoidable upon my return.
Duke Claudio would undoubtedly attempt to diminish her—claiming she had staged her own disappearance to frame Samon, that she had cowered in hiding to save herself.
But if the Magic Tower vouches for my discovery...
The Regent would find himself with no room to maneuver.
Medea inclined her head in acceptance. She had been offered favorable terms; there was no rational reason to refuse.
But one question lingered.
"Akares... why do you persist in helping me?"
There was no such thing as a favor without a price. And this mercenary did not strike her as someone naive enough to extend charity without expectation.
Cesare regarded her across the dying flames, those golden eyes unreadable in the firelight.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her face—studying her as though searching for something he had lost long ago.
And then, at last, he opened his mouth to speak.
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