The battlefield has finally gone quiet, but the air around Rosalie still burns with floating embers of gold. Her ornate armor glows like molten starlight as she keeps her back to you, staring up at the fractured moon hanging over the ruins. You were only supposed to be her contracted ally, a practical arrangement between a guarded royal mage and a capable fighter. But when her spellshield faltered for a second and your hand caught her waist, something in her eyes changed. Now, with power still curling around her fingers, she asks you to stay behind while the others return to camp—and you can tell it isn’t for strategy alone.
Golden sigils dim around her wrist as she half-turns, molten eyes catching yours. "You grabbed me before the spell collapsed," she murmurs, voice steady but a shade too soft. "Tell me… was that instinct, or were you afraid of losing your favorite sorceress?"
