“Ah!”

Morgan flinched when Burn suddenly slipped beside her. It was almost her turn to order in the queue.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and wait?” Morgan glared playfully.

Burn had both hands behind his back in a leisurely posture. “You took too long.”

The person in front of her finally got their order, and it was her turn. “Two meat wraps, please.”

The stall owner raised his head and saw a pair of impressive specimens—one devastatingly beautiful, one incredibly imposing. He just honestly made the order, not commenting on the two’s presence.

A thin wrap made of flour was cooked flat on the pan, filled full with lamb meat, crunchy veggies, and sauce. After it was done, he wrapped it carefully and skillfully before putting it back on the pan to seal it.

Morgan, seeing her order was done, used a bit of spatial magic. Her fingers twirled to grasp a silver coin out of thin air. She handed it over to the man—a whole two days’ worth of selling goods to him. “Keep the change, good sir.”

“T-thank you, Madam! Sir!”

They turned back to the bench, and the drunken man from earlier had left. Morgan sat down first, when instead of seeing Burn sitting beside her, she saw him kneeling in front of her.

From the hands he tucked behind him, he pulled out a small gold velvet box he wordlessly opened in front of her.

Inside was a delicate silver ring with a small storm-blue diamond inlaid in a beautiful silver craftsmanship in the shape of rolling clouds.

“When I first saw your eyes, I thought they were exaggerated with magic,” he began. “When I first saw you cry, I was sure I’d dream of the blue sky melting beneath the sun.”

Morgan put the paper wrappers down to the side and couldn’t even speak. Burn took out the ring and also put the box to the side.

He pulled her left hand and put it onto her ring finger.

“But it looks a lot like a very… bright storm, lightning and all.”

Bluest of blue.

“You said you’ll marry me. I already asked yesterday,” Burn continued. “I bought the ring just now, but I picked it out myself when I accidentally glimpsed it yesterday.”

“It’s more than I’ve ever imagined our wedding ring to look like. I am a very lucky man,” he smiled gently. “And look how it fit you just as perfectly.”

His eyes just knew it would be perfect, and it was.

“Do you like it?” Burn looked up at her.

And she was smiling.

She nodded with some unshed tears.

“Thank you, Caliburn.”

“I love you.”

.

.

.

.

But that wasn’t what happened.

***

Burn was sitting beside the bed when the drunkard from earlier knelt in front of him. In his outstretched hand was a dirty, deep gold velvet box.

“Sir, I picked it up when I saw you drop it.”

Burn looked at the man and gave a silent nod. He took the box and opened it. The ring inside, though it had fallen to the pavement, remained untouched by filth—pristinely clean, flawless, as if protected by fate itself.

“Thank you,” Burn said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ll reward you. Tell me what you want.”

The man lowered his eyes. For a long moment, he said nothing.

“After I saw you today, I was stunned, my lord,” the man finally spoke. “I never knew our Emperor had such a beloved lady by his side.”

And then he cried—openly, helplessly.

“My wife… she left me a year ago,” he choked. “Left me alone in this world…”

He clutched the front of his stained tunic, the gesture pitiful in its naked despair. “I couldn’t stop drinking. I thought if I drank enough, I’d forget how it feels to lose everything.”

The only thing he asked for was a doctor. Someone to help him fight the grip of his spiraling chronic addiction. Someone to guide him through the agony of grief that had consumed him too violently.

He mentioned, almost as an afterthought, that he had a daughter. “She’s around your age, my lord. Still so young… she has her own family now. Soon, I might even be a grandfather.”

A brittle smile touched his lips as he bowed to leave. “May Her Majesty recover soon.”

Burn replied with a smile. “She will recover soon.”

He heard the door close behind him as he turned toward the bed. Approaching in silence, he pulled the blanket up and slipped beneath it, settling beside the fragile body that lay waiting.

The woman stirred faintly, her pallid features straining toward a smile that barely surfaced. “I will hold you,” Burn murmured, his voice low and steady. “Don’t force yourself.”

He slid a hand beneath her neck, lifting her gently into the cradle of his arms. Drawing her close from behind, he opened the velvet box before her eyes.

Inside lay the same silver band.

“When I first saw your eyes,” he began, softly—too softly for the world outside to hear—“I thought they were exaggerated with magic.” A pause. “When I saw you cry for the first time… I was certain I’d dream of the sky melting beneath the sun.”

Morgan, lying quietly as his voice touched her ear, began to cry. She didn’t make a sound. The pillow beneath her slowly darkened with tears.

Burn took the ring and set the box aside.

He found her left hand and guided it forward, slipping the ring onto her finger.

“But it looks a lot like a very… bright storm,” he whispered, “lightning and all.”

Bluest of blue.

“You said you’d marry me,” Burn continued, breath brushing her skin. “I already asked yesterday.”

“I bought the ring just now… but I chose it the moment I glimpsed it yesterday.”

“It’s more than I ever imagined our wedding ring could be.” A gentle kiss against the back of her ear. “I am a very lucky man.”

“And look how it fits you—just as it should.”

His eyes had always known it would. And it did. Perfectly.

No matter what.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

He watched her nod—barely a movement against the pillow.

“I love it very much, Caliburn,” she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder.

“After the wedding,” he said, quietly, “Let’s get it over with.”

The Alliance.