Page 59 of Red Queen

I lean over the table, studying the topography. “Agreed. But it’s risky. We expose ourselves to counterattack.”

“A risk we must take,” Nicolai interjects, his tone grave. “Catarina’s forces outnumber us. Surprise is our ally.”

“Then it’s settled.” I clench my fist. “We strike at first light. Prepare your squads. This battle could alter the outcome of this damned war—or drown us in its wake.”

The tension hangs in the air like the chill of winter frost. My thoughts drift to Eleanna, the fiery-haired goddess who has become both my ally and my torment. Once, she whittled what Ifelt for her to seeing her as nothing but a cruel queen, merciless in her rule. Back when she showed her true colors. But adversity has stripped away our pretenses, leaving something raw and undeniable between us. Something at once old and new.

I walk toward the frosted window, the cold glass offering no comfort to my heated skin. With each encounter this time round, Eleanna challenges me, her spirit as untamed as the blizzard winds outside. There’s an admiration now, a burning respect that wars with my instincts. She’s formidable, yet beneath her icy veneer lies a passion that calls to my own.

“Damn,” I curse under my breath.

It’s a dangerous game we play, this seduction of power and desire. Duty binds me to my people, to this fight for survival, but there’s a pull within my chest—a yearning—that gravitates toward her with all the force of destiny.

The ironclad grip I have on my emotions slips, just for a moment, and I’m left wondering if what I feel for Eleanna will be the very thing that saves me or destroys me utterly.

Through the window, Eleanna trains. Her form’s a whirlwind of lethal poise in the courtyard below. She moves like a true warrior. Her long red hair is pulled back into a tight braid that whips around as she pivots and strikes, a scarlet streak against the harsh white backdrop of snow. Her clothing, dark red and formfitting, seems almost part of her, accentuating each fluid movement of her body.

The sight stirs something primal within me. I follow the line of her thighs, visible beneath the slits in her skirt, up to the curve of her waist. There’s an undeniable power to her, a ferocity that resonates in the air itself. The raven tattoo on her leg, a symbol of her lineage, seems to pulse with life as she moves, a reminder of the blood that courses through her veins—blood she’s spilled and would spill again for her people.

“General?” Nicolai’s voice intrudes, but I’m already turning away from the scene, excusing myself with a curt nod.

“Carry on,” I say, as I leave the war room behind, descending the stone stairs with a purpose that masks my inner turmoil. The cold bites at my skin as I step outside, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that Eleanna ignites within me—a fire that refuses to be put out.

“Eleanna.” Our eyes meet, the word a soft command that acknowledges both her status and the undercurrents that thrum between us.

“Alexandru,” she says, her voice cool yet carrying the weight of shared trials.

We begin walking side by side, our arms brushing occasionally. The simple contact sends jolts of awareness down my spine. It’s a dangerous intimacy, one we tread carefully, but it’s there, simmering beneath the surface like the threat of a storm.

“You’re relentless in your training,” I say, watching her reaction closely.

“Strength is all I’ve ever known,” she confesses, her blue eyes holding mine. “From childhood, my father taught me to rule with an iron fist—to show no weakness.”

“Your father was…a formidable man,” I say. She knows my feelings about that monster. And even though I don’t agree, I’m aware she insists on carrying the legacy on her shoulders.

“When he died, I was thrust into power, my birthright, surrounded by those who questioned my ability to lead.” Pain flickers in her gaze, a vulnerability she rarely shows. “Catarina’s attack was just the culmination of years of strife.”

“Yet you stand here, stronger than ever,” I say softly, admiring her resilience even as I feel the pull of her pain.

“Because I must,” she whispers, her hand reaching out to touch my arm, a fleeting moment of connection that speaks volumes.

Our walk slows as we reach the heart of the courtyard. Here, amid my troops and snow, the world around us vanishes.

“Eleanna, tell me more about yourself in the years we spent apart,” I say as we stroll through the courtyard.

Eleanna takes a deep breath, her eyes wandering over the snow-dusted courtyard as she gathers her thoughts. “After my father’s passing, I was consumed by the need to prove myself. To show that I was worthy of the Sagori throne, that I could lead our people to greatness…” She pauses, her gaze returning to mine. “But it was a lonely path, Alexandru. I had to be ruthless, uncompromising. I could trust no one.”

I nod, understanding all too well the weight of leadership.

“I, too, have walked that path,” I say, my voice low. “When my parents were killed in the power struggles, I was left adrift. But I knew I had to carry on their legacy, to protect our kind.”

Her hand brushes against mine as we walk, sending a spark of electricity through my body. “We aren’t so different, you and I. Both shaped by loss, driven by duty.”

“And haunted by the past.”

In this moment, I feel a connection to her that goes beyond mere alliance or attraction. It’s a shared understanding, a recognition of the scars we both carry.

“Can’t you see, Alexandru,” she says softly, “that our burdens and legacies shaped us. To be the leader I am, I had to be cold and hard and make difficult decisions. You rose to become the general you are today under similar conditions. And yet you tell me I’m draconian and I must change?”

---