Chapter 9: “The Spark of Something More”

Stephanie Redwyne was ten years old, and the world was beginning to make less sense.

It wasn't the magic—she'd mastered basic spells years ago, and her tutors praised her as a prodigy. It wasn't the politics—she'd long since learned to navigate the labyrinth of noble expectations with a sharp tongue and a sharper glare. No, the thing that confused her most was Aizen.

He was always there, a constant presence in her chaotic world. He carried her books, listened to her rants, and somehow managed to make her laugh even when she was determined to be angry. He was her servant, her confidant, her… something else. Something she couldn't quite name.

And it was driving her mad.

The Incident with the Flowers

The morning started innocently enough. Stephanie was in the garden, practicing her water magic by coaxing the roses to bloom. Aizen sat nearby, reading a book on magical theory—a subject Stephanie had insisted he study, though she'd never admit it was because she wanted him to stay close.

"Aizen," she called, her voice sharp.

He looked up, his dark eyes calm and attentive. "Yes, my lady?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

The question slipped out before she could stop it, and she immediately regretted it. Aizen blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"I… suppose so," he said carefully.

Stephanie's cheeks burned. "You suppose so? What kind of answer is that?"

"A truthful one," he replied, setting his book aside. "You're… striking. Like a storm. Beautiful, but dangerous."

Stephanie stared at him, her heart pounding. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it however you like."

She huffed, turning back to the roses. "You're impossible."

But secretly, she was pleased.

The Incident with the Suitor

The real trouble began that afternoon, when a visiting noble brought his son to the estate. The boy, a pompous twelve-year-old named Alaric, had been paraded around as a potential match for Stephanie.

"Lady Stephanie," Alaric said, bowing with exaggerated flourish. "It's an honor to meet you."

Stephanie eyed him with disdain. "The honor is mine," she said flatly, her tone suggesting the exact opposite.

Alaric, either oblivious or determined, launched into a monologue about his family's accomplishments. Stephanie tuned him out, her gaze drifting to Aizen, who stood silently in the corner.

"And of course," Alaric concluded, "our families would benefit greatly from an alliance."

Stephanie's attention snapped back to him. "An alliance?"

"Yes. A marriage, to be precise."

Stephanie's wand was in her hand before she even realized it. "Get out."

Alaric blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, get out." Her voice was low, dangerous. "Before I turn you into a toad."

Alaric paled and fled, his father trailing behind with frantic apologies. Stephanie turned to Aizen, her expression daring him to comment.

He didn't.

The Incident with the Mirror

That night, Stephanie stood before her bedroom mirror, studying her reflection. She was ten now, no longer a child but not quite a young lady. Her rose-gold curls framed a face that was growing sharper, more defined. Her sapphire eyes, once wide with innocence, now glinted with determination.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she whispered to her reflection.

The mirror, enchanted to respond with flattery, replied, "You are the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, my lady."

Stephanie frowned. "That's not what I asked."

She thought of Aizen's words earlier that day. Beautiful, but dangerous. Was that how he saw her? As something to be admired from a distance, like a storm on the horizon?

The thought made her chest ache in a way she didn't understand.

The Incident with the Confession

The next morning, Stephanie cornered Aizen in the library. He was reorganizing the shelves, his movements methodical and unhurried.

"Aizen," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

He turned, his expression calm. "Yes, my lady?"

"Do you… like me?"

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "Of course I like you. You're my—"

"No," she interrupted. "I mean… do you like me?"

The room fell silent. Aizen stared at her, his usual composure faltering for the first time.

"Stephanie," he said slowly, "you're ten."

"So?"

"So… you're too young to be thinking about things like that."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "Don't patronize me. I'm not a child."

Aizen sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're my lady. My responsibility. That's all."

Stephanie's heart sank, but she refused to let it show. "Fine. But just so you know… you're mine. No one else's."

Aizen opened his mouth to respond, but she was already gone, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

The Aftermath

That night, Stephanie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her feelings for Aizen were a tangled mess, a storm she couldn't control. She didn't understand them, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't going to let him go.

Not now. Not ever.