The air felt charged, thick with tension and the residual hum of magic that seemed to radiate from Ren like a storm barely contained.
Her arms were still around me, holding me as if I weighed nothing at all, steady and sure. There was no tremble in her grip, no sign that the fight had taken anything out of her.
She was stronger than I remembered not just in the way she fought but in the way she carried herself, her presence commanding the room even as the echoes of chaos faded.
My gaze flicked downward, catching sight of the tattoos snaking along her arms and peeking out from the collar of her suit.
Black ink coiled and curved against her skin, their designs intricate and almost mesmerizing. They seemed alive, pulsating faintly with some unspoken power.
It was infuriating.
I wasn't supposed to be looking at her like this, noticing how her strength felt reassuring or how the tattoos gave her an edge that was almost... attractive.
My fingers twitched, and I forced myself to stiffen in her hold. I was Xyra Eldarion, crown princess and soon-to-be queen. This was not how someone like me behaved.
"Put me down," I snapped, my voice sharp, slicing through the thick air like a blade.
Ren arched an eyebrow, her expression unchanging, but there was something in her crimson eyes a flicker of amusement, or maybe defiance.
For a moment, she didn't move, and I wondered if she was deliberately ignoring me just to prove a point.
"I said, put me down," I repeated, my tone colder this time.
Finally, she shifted, lowering me to my feet with an almost deliberate slowness, as though reminding me that she had been the one to catch me, the one to protect me when no one else had moved.
The contact broke, and I was painfully aware of the loss, though I shoved that thought aside as quickly as it surfaced.
Turning on my heel, I faced Levan, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. He had retreated several steps away, his hand resting awkwardly on the hilt of his sword, though he'd made no attempt to draw it earlier.
How can someone fiancé try to sacrifice them.
"Levan," I said, my voice cool and even, "are you quite all right?"
He flinched slightly at my tone, his gaze darting to the floor before meeting mine. "I—I was just trying to make sure you weren't hurt," he stammered, his words weak, unconvincing.
"Of course," I replied, the faintest hint of disdain curling at the edges of my lips. "How noble of you."
Before he could respond, the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the tension. My father.
My dad stood a few steps away, his usually composed demeanor faltering slightly as he glanced between Ren, me, and the unconscious attackers scattered across the floor.
For the first time in my life, he looked unsure of what to say, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Ren, straightened and turned to him, offering a curt nod. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice steady, "I'll do a sweep of the area to ensure there are no further threats."
The king nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Very well, Captain Khasar. Your assistance has been... invaluable."
Ren didn't linger for thanks or acknowledgment. She turned sharply on her heel, her movements precise and deliberate, and strode toward the edge of the room.
Her aura, still heavy with latent magic, seemed to follow her, and the crowd parted instinctively, giving her a wide berth.
As she disappeared from view, the king raised his hand, gesturing to the gathered guests.
"I believe it would be wise for everyone to return to their house for the evening," he said, his voice carrying authority despite the underlying unease. "It may not be safe to remain here."
The crowd murmured in agreement, the tension in the room palpable as nobles and dignitaries began to file out, their footsteps hurried and their whispers hushed.
When the hall was nearly empty, my parents approached me, their faces a mixture of concern and something else I couldn't quite place something softer, gentler, almost protective.
"Xyra," my mother said, her voice trembling slightly as she reached out to touch my arm. "Are you hurt? Did they—"
"I'm fine," I interrupted, my tone clipped.
My father stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "We had no idea something like this could happen," he said, his voice low but firm. "The security measures were supposed to be—"
"Clearly inadequate," I cut in, meeting his gaze with a steely glare. "Perhaps next time, we should ensure that such events are properly vetted."
My mother flinched at my words, but my father merely sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right," he admitted. "This is unacceptable."
For a moment, the three of us stood in silence, the weight of the evening pressing down on us like a heavy shroud. My mother's fingers tightened slightly on my arm, her worry evident in the way she studied my face.
"You're sure you're all right?" she asked again, her voice softer this time.
I nodded, forcing a small, reassuring smile to my lips. "I'm fine, Mother. Truly."
But even as I said the words, my thoughts were elsewhere. My gaze flicked briefly to the door where Ren had disappeared, the memory of her holding me still fresh in my mind.
"It was close," she had said.
Too close.
Shaking off the thought, I straightened my shoulders, reminding myself once again who I was. This moment of vulnerability, this fleeting sense of... something, would not define me.
I was Xyra Eldarion, after all. And nothing,no one would change that.