47

  The afternoon sun bathed Aurum in gold as Princess Sophia sat on the balcony, her posture composed yet relaxed. The soft breeze brushed through her tied hair, carrying the faint scent of roses from the royal gardens below and the distant river. Leaves fell slowly, twirling in the wind, and birds sang in scattered branches, their melodies threading through the courtyard below. She wore a corset of royal design, modest but elegant, highlighting her youth and dignity, the soft sunlight catching the subtle sheen of the fabric. Beside her, the circular table bore intricate carvings of Aurum sigils and delicate patterns, polished to reflect the light. From the balcony, the south lands spread below—a winding river glinting in the sun, the distant snow?capped mountains framing the horizon, and the lush expanses of Aurum’s southern plains stretching toward the villages.

  Finn was led to the balcony by a maid, his dark blue tunic and leather coat contrasting with the golden warmth of the afternoon. He felt taller than Sophia, though only slightly, his posture uncertain but careful. He had learned a few gestures from the books and movies he had glimpsed in his world, and he bowed slowly, deep and formal.

  “It is my pleasure to be with you, Princess Sophia,” he said, his voice low, almost to himself.

  Sophia paused, tea cup midair, and a soft laugh escaped her. The sound was delicate, amused, and genuine. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said, teasing, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

  Finn blinked, confused, before a laugh broke from his chest, a small, awkward chuckle. Sophia’s laughter followed, bright and melodic, easing the tension. In that shared moment, the courtly grandeur, the weight of their situation, and the strangeness of this new world seemed to vanish, leaving only the warmth between them.

  Meanwhile, in the castle wing across the courtyard, Katherine sat by her window, clutching her pillow tightly. Her heart ached as she watched Finn with Sophia. Memories of their life in the other world—playing in school, sharing chocolate slushies, the cathedral where Finn used to sing—pressed against her chest. She could feel her throat tighten as she traced Finn’s silhouette from afar, wishing she could step through the glass, reach out, and reclaim a part of their bond. The wind brushed her hair, ruffling it slightly, mirroring the unrest in her heart. She could only stare, silent, helpless, yet every glance carried the weight of longing and quiet fear.

  Back on the balcony, Sophia and Finn descended into the courtyard, walking along the cobblestones as the wind stirred leaves around them, scattering them across the marble floors. Birds flitted from branch to branch, their calls punctuating the soft rustling. Sophia tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Tell me,” she asked, voice playful but sharp, “what was your world like? How did you end up here? Can you ride a horse? Would you… consider staying in Aurum? And… is there someone you like?”

  Finn froze at the last question, memories of Katherine—the warmth of her presence, the way she tilted her head while holding a pen, their laughter, their shared moments—pressing against him. He looked at Sophia but could not speak, though the unspoken truth flickered in his eyes. Sophia, perceptive as ever, tilted her head knowingly, reading him without a word. She smirked lightly. “So… by the order of the Princess, you will stop seeing Katherine,” she teased, the faint sarcasm in her tone softened by her amused laughter.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Finn couldn’t help it. A laugh slipped from his lips, shaky at first, then freer as Sophia’s own laughter joined him. The tension dissolved, leaving a mix of awkwardness and relief between them.

  Suddenly, Prince Sergei appeared at the far end of the courtyard, his aura sharp and commanding, unlike the calm presence they had first noticed at the gate. He drew his sword, the Flicker Sword, aiming directly at Finn.

  Finn stiffened. Sophia’s hand went to his arm instinctively, seeking reassurance. Before Sergei could advance, Maxi moved like a whirlwind, Karit spinning with deadly precision. The surge of wind from its movement threw Sergei back, his sword slicing through air harmlessly. Finn instinctively pressed closer to Sophia, shielding her as they both fell to the ground, Finn landing atop her with a soft thud. He looked at her apologetically, silently checking if she was unharmed.

  Sergei lunged again, but Maxi’s movements were a blur—a hurricane of swipes and spins, Karit flashing with precision. Each strike deflected Sergei’s attacks while maintaining the protective barrier around Finn and Sophia. With calculated skill, Maxi struck Sergei in the nape and forehead, leaving him unconscious on the ground. Maxi’s face, usually light-hearted and mischievous, now radiated quiet confidence and determination. He had grown into a true protector, his aura commanding, every movement deliberate and decisive.

  The courtyard fell into tense silence. Marco and William appeared at the far side, rushing to Sergei’s side to assess his condition. Sophia’s hands remained in Finn’s as he helped her to her feet, their fingers intertwined. Her gaze lingered on him, admiration and curiosity mingling in her expression.

  Across the courtyard, Katherine’s heart sank further. Her eyes followed Finn’s every movement, She could do nothing but witness the scene from afar, her presence unacknowledged yet intimately tied to the events unfolding.

  The courtyard was quiet now, save for the soft rustling of leaves, the fluttering of banners, and the distant hum of the river. Maxi stood slightly ahead, Karit resting lightly in his hand, the air around him still tinged with the intensity of the recent duel. His grin was thin, protective, and confident—a promise that nothing would threaten those he cared for.

  Sophia finally drew a breath and stepped closer to Finn, still holding his hand. Her eyes searched his for a moment, noting his quiet strength, the mix of modesty and resolve in his gaze. She smiled faintly, a subtle acknowledgment of the bond that had formed in the face of danger. Finn met her gaze, feeling the unspoken connection and the weight of all that had passed between them.

  Katherine continued to watch across the courtyard, tracing the movements of Finn and Sophia. Her heart ached, but the wind brushing through her hair, the soft dance of falling leaves, and the bird songs around her mirrored the conflicting emotions inside her: longing, helplessness, and the faint glimmer of hope that somehow, the story was far from over.

  In the far corner, inside Prince Sergei’s chamber, Lyra—the Revenant—watched the courtyard unfold through the window. Her silk robe clung to her form, revealing glimpses of her pale, lithe body beneath. Her expression was one of disappointment, her lips curling into a thin frown. With no further interest in the events that had transpired, she vanished without a trace, leaving only the faint whisper of silk in her wake.