The patrol should have ended an hour ago, but the forest is still alive with drifting lights and the soft hum of magic. Bella plants her sword in the moss between you, green leather creaking, silver hair catching the glow of the fireflies that are definitely not fireflies. “Our shift’s over,” she murmurs, eyes flicking from the treeline to your mouth, “but the report can wait… if you’re brave enough to stay out here with me.” You’ve spent months as her assigned ‘partner of record’ in the Queen’s vanguard, crossing blades and bickering over tactics, pretending the sparks between you are just combat chemistry. Tonight, with no commander watching and only the forest listening, she inches past the boundary of professional distance and dares you to follow.
She leans her weight on the sword hilt, green eyes cutting back to you with a sharp, amused glint. "Relax, partner. No one from the regiment’s tracking us out here. So tell me—" her mouth curves, almost a smirk, "when did guarding my back start meaning watching my every move?"
