CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 160: TAKE ME, THEN

After finishing his training routine, Lumberling took a deep breath and stepped out of his home. He didn’t need to guess where Vaenyra would be, he already knew.

But before he could leave, he paused.

Aurelya was already there, waiting outside. Leaning against the tree, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

"Aurelya," he greeted, mildly surprised. "You’re here. Is there something you need?"

She glanced at him, face composed. "You’re going to see Lady Vaenyra?"

The question was rhetorical. She already knew.

He chuckled. "What, want to come with me?"

"No thanks." Her eyes flicked away. "She’s... kind of upset with me."

That made him stop. "Upset?" he echoed, arching an eyebrow. "That’s new."

Aurelya smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I don’t know if I should be proud or regretful. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her jealous of me."

"Jealous?" Lumberling said with real intrigue. "I’d like to see that for myself."

"Maybe next time." She shrugged, then her voice grew softer, lower, tinged with something almost like guilt. "She’s a prideful woman. Grew up with a name heavy enough to crush most men. Nobility. Elegance. Strength. That’s all she’s ever known. She gives her attention only to those she deems worthy of it... and I’ve followed her long enough to know she’s never spared it for envy."

A breath. Then:

"But you... you changed something. And today, she didn’t look at me like her second. She looked at me like a rival."

Lumberling’s smile faded into something more serious.

"Lady Vaenyra sees our love for you as a contest," Aurelya said plainly. "And, for the first time, I won. But..."

She hesitated, her fingers curling tightly around her arms.

"...This isn’t how I wanted to win."

Lumberling listened, silent.

"She was the one I admired," she murmured. "Respected."

A beat passed. "Still do."

He looked at her gently. "So don’t mess this up, huh?"

Aurelya smirked. "That’s right. No pressure."

"Much appreciated," he muttered with a chuckle.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You nervous?"

He shrugged. "I’ve always intended to make her mine. Even without your pep talk."

"Hmph. Of course you do," she said, but the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her act.

"I’ll make it up to you," he whispered near her ear, brushing a kiss against her skin. She tensed, blinking, mouth opening and closing.

"And you don’t have to keep pretending with me," he murmured, softer now. "Say what you really want to say."

He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, then turned, footsteps quiet as he walked away beneath the dim moonlight.

She stood frozen, arms curling around herself.

And then, barely audible, half a breath, half a curse, she whispered to the wind,

"...Idiot."

"...How does he always know me," she whispered.

....

Shortly after

Aurelya didn’t move for a while.

Just stood there, listening to the wind shift through the leaves. His scent lingered in the air, a mix of leather, sweat, and the faint sting of iron, and gods, it clung to her thoughts like a fever.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Jealous? Me?" Her voice was hollow, meant only for herself.

But the ache was there.

Aurelya hugged herself tighter.

’You already knew he wasn’t just yours.’ She reminded herself

She had smiled, said the right things, tried to be strong. She gave him insight into Vaenyra’s heart, not out of loyalty, but because he deserved to know. Because Vaenyra deserved a fair chance. Because she didn’t want to win like this.

But beneath that... she hated the thought of him holding another woman the way he held her.

That calm confidence of his. The way he whispered. The way he saw her, even when she wore armor made of sarcasm and bravado. He pierced through it all, and worse, he was never cruel about it.

That was the dangerous part.

That was why it stung.

She sighed, kicking a loose stone, sending it bouncing across the path.

...

Far from her conflicted thoughts, under the silver eye of the moon, another woman wrestled with her own storm.

The moon hung low, pale and full, spilling its silver light across the world below. Vaenyra stood beneath the old, gnarled tree, her silhouette bathed in lunar glow. The wind teased strands of her long blue hair, sending them dancing like ribbons of midnight silk. Her emerald eyes shimmered as she gazed up at the stars, thoughtful, distant.

She wore her usual dress, the deep blue fabric clinging to her like dusk itself. The way it framed her figure, graceful, taut, and deadly, was almost unfair. The cut hugged her slender waist, flared at the hips, and left her shoulders bare, kissed by starlight. A slit rode high on one thigh, where shadows met skin like whispered temptation. If a painter had seen her then, he would’ve ruined a dozen canvases trying to capture her.

She was beautiful in the way nature feared, like a storm, like the sea.

Lumberling approached from behind, boots muffled by grass. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. She’d always been a woman of silences, and he’d long learned how to sit in them with her.

Minutes passed. She didn’t turn to look at him.

Then, finally, she spoke. Her voice low, gentle, almost too soft to hear.

"Take care of Aurelya. Don’t hurt her."

There was no preamble. No bitterness. Just the words, naked and vulnerable in the wind. She already knew. Of course she knew. And in her world, it was improper. No matter how much she wanted to defy that.

So this... this was her surrender. A graceful retreat. A woman who fought battles by day and buried her wounds at night.

Lumberling nodded slowly. "Mm. I would."

"Good," she replied, but the word trembled as it left her. She didn’t look at him. If she had, he might’ve seen it, the sadness clinging to the corners of her lips. It was a goodbye disguised as well-wishes.

More silence. The stars blinked above like distant witnesses.

"Two weeks," she said. "After that... we’ll leave your village." A pause. Her throat worked. "...Thank you for taking us in."

"You’re welcome." His tone remained neutral, unshaken.

Vaenyra turned then, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly. That tone, so infuriatingly calm. She narrowed her eyes, the distance between them suddenly infinite.

’So, you’ve made your choice,’ she thought. ’Aurelya...’

She looked skyward again, the ache swelling in her chest. Then, without another word, she turned to walk away.

But halfway through her steps, his voice followed her.

"Why aren’t you saying anything?"

She halted. Turned halfway, her hair whipping like a banner.

"What do you mean?" she called back, her voice rising.

"Aren’t you going to say something to me?" he repeated, a smirk in his voice.

She snapped. Mana surged around her like a waking storm, the ground underfoot cracking. "You’re the one who had something to say to me! Why aren’t you saying anything?!"

The wind howled. Energy churned. Her presence bore down on him like a tempest.

Lumberling flinched. Yet he stood, bracing against her fury. He didn’t falter. He didn’t run. He simply watched, unblinking, unafraid, as she let it all loose.

And then, finally, he spoke again.

"Vaenyra."

Just that. Her name.

She turned to him slowly. Her breathing slowed. Her composure returned like the tide retreating after a storm.

"Are you really going to keep holding back?" His voice was lower now. Closer. He stepped toward her, slow and deliberate. "What’s holding you back, my dear?"

She didn’t answer.

"This isn’t the Vaenyra I know," he continued, eyes fixed on her. "The one I know wouldn’t hesitate. The one I know takes what she wants, whether by charm, by steel, or by sheer force of will. So what’s holding you back?"

Her lips parted. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion.

And then she looked down, saw Aurelya’s face in her mind’s eye.

Her closest friend. Her right hand. Her sister in arms.

She clenched her jaw.

But Lumberling kept walking toward her, closing the distance with maddening calm. And something within her began to stir. Something wild.

Her confidence.

Her hunger.

Her pride.

She lifted her head. Met his eyes. And the power swelled within her once more.

"Are you sure you know what you’re dealing with?" she said, stepping forward to match him. A slow grin tugged at her lips. "You really are different... maybe that’s why I chose you."

Another step. Her breath warm between them.

"I always take what I want, Lumberling. You are no exception. Even if it means hurting Aurelya."

Her voice trembled with dangerous joy. Her eyes burned like twin suns about to eclipse.

Lumberling’s gaze didn’t waver. He saw it now. Clearer than ever. That madness. That possessiveness. That delicious, untamed hunger she always carried.

And he smiled.

"You don’t have to hurt Aurelya."

Vaenyra blinked.

"Then what... aren’t you going to take her as your wife?"

"I would," he said, without hesitation.

Then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a whisper meant only for her.

"And I’m going to take you too."

She reeled slightly, eyes widening. And then, she laughed. A raw, amused sound that echoed under the old tree.

’This guy...’ she thought to herself.

"You think you can?" she challenged, lips curling. "Take us both?"

"Is that even a question?" he stepped even closer, his breath brushing her cheek. "Of course I will."

Her hand pressed against his chest now, fingers splayed, feeling his heartbeat.

"Then show me," she whispered, her breath laced with danger and desire. "Take us. Make me yours, Lumberling."

He leaned in until their foreheads touched.

"You are mine, Vaenyra."

"Really?" she teased, her smirk returning. Her pride, her fire, it would never let her submit so easily. "Then take me."

And before another word could pass, she kissed him.

Not gently. Not shyly. But like a challenge. Like a duel.

Their auras flared. The mana of two warriors clashing, fusing. The old tree groaned in the wind as if bearing witness to something sacred, or sacrilegious.

When they pulled apart, breathless, she spoke one last time.

"You better not regret it."

"I told you. I don’t regret what’s mine."

Then, she lunged again, lips crashing onto his.

Love, like war, was something she never intended to lose.