I hate how quiet it is when he leaves.
Strange..
The tent door flutters shut, the lingering scent of leather and cold steel fading just a little - like him. That commander. That man.
Who the hell does he think he is?
...And why does my heart still feel like it's doing backflips in my chest?
I sit there, the rough blanket biting at the back of my legs, wrists still tingling from where he touched them. He was too close. Way too close. Like a blade pressed to my throat...
And I didn't hate it.
Ugh. Gross.
I fall backward on the cot, letting out a groan loud enough for the gods - or System 707 to hear.
"System," I mutter to the canvas ceiling, "is this part of the plan? Or are you screwing with me again?"
No reply. Figures. That snarky bastard only shows up when he wants to sass me, then goes back to sipping digital margaritas or whatever the hell a System does in idle mode.
Instead, I let the silence take me. It's… different from the dungeon cell, sure. Warmer, less rat-infested. But it's not comfort. Not really.
Because he was here.
And now he's gone.
Seriously what's wrong with me!?
That commander. His voice still echoes in my head. Low, commanding, like the calm before a war. He doesn't act like a man who takes orders.
Which raises one very obvious question:
Why is someone like that answering to a queen?
Unless he isn't.
My brow furrows. I sit up slowly, the cot creaking underneath me as I begin to piece things together.
I remember the soldiers from before. They looked to him, not her. Reacted the moment he blinked, not when she yelled. There's a reason the guard snapped to attention when the commander called for him, and hesitated when the Queen gave the order.
He walks like he owns the camp. Like he owns me.
It's unsettling.
It's also intriguing.
I stand up, pacing. My body's still sore from the bindings and the incident at the square. (Let's not talk about that.) But my mind? It's racing now.
There's power here. And it isn't wearing a crown.
I move to the tent flap, cautiously peeking out. The camp is alive with movement. Soldiers, tents, the distant ring of metal on metal. I see the Queen's pavilion, much more larger, adorned with silks and banners.
But people aren't gathering there.
When the tent flapped, I can see they're gathering near the war table. Where he stands. Arms folded. They lean in when he speaks. Not because they're forced to. But because they want to.
And she… the Queen… she's smiling.
But not like someone in charge.
Like someone who knows how to perform.
Huh.
"System," I whisper again. "You seeing this?"
[SYSTEM 707: Not only seeing. Archiving. Analyzing. Sipping tea. Continue.]
"...Of course you're drinking something. You've got tea in one hand and my entire fate in the other."
[SYSTEM 707: If by 'tea' you mean 'royal sabotage, suppressed rebellion plots, and a spicy secret between the Commander and someone unnamed... then yes. Absolutely tea.]
I pause.
"...What secret?"
[SYSTEM 707: ...Redirecting. Invalid question. Insufficient plot flags unlocked.]
"Oh, you're insufferable."
[SYSTEM 707: Affirmative. But charming.]
I roll my eyes and push the flap open wider. Time to think. Time to move. If this commander is more than he seems and something deep down tells me he is, then I need to understand the dynamics here before I end up neck-deep in whatever war this world is hurtling toward.
And also… because I want to see him again.
Don't look at me like that. I'm not catching feelings.
I just want answers.
And if those answers happen to come with a side of jawline and brooding eyes and body heat that fries my nervous system… well. That's just a tragic coincidence.
"Fine," I sigh. "Let's go poke the bear."
Later That Evening – War Tent
"Is this your idea of spying?" a voice says, not unkindly, from behind me.
I jumped and barely suppress the scream that climbs up my throat.
He's leaning in the shadow near the tent entrance. Of course he is.
Of course he saw me.
"Weren't you supposed to be busy getting scolded by your Queen?" I shoot back.
The corner of his mouth tilts, barely noticeable.
"She scolds. I pretend to listen. She gets to play her role. I get to make the decisions anyway."
Oh.
Oh.
So I was right.
"You're the real power here," I whisper.
He doesn't deny it.
"Not officially. But they follow strength. Not silk. And she knows it."
I stare at him, something sharp twisting in my gut. "Then why play along? Why let her take the credit?"
His eyes meet mine, serious now. Quiet.
"Because the minute I take the crown... they stop trusting me. And start fearing me. I'd rather keep their loyalty."
He turns away before I can respond, walking to the large table covered in maps and bloodstained documents.
And damn it, I understand him more than I should.
"...You're dangerous," I say.
He doesn't turn around.
But I hear it, just faintly. The soft, dark chuckle that says I've only just begun to understand how deep that danger runs.
[SYSTEM 707: Soulmate Recognition Progress — 34%]
[Next Plot Flag: Emotional Compromise]
[Threat Level: Medium-High. Swoon Risk: Catastrophic.]