Unlikely Allies

The hooded guy moved fast.

"None of your business," the leader snarled, pressing the knife harder against Seraphina's throat. "Walk away while you can."

"Can't do that."

The stranger attacked without warning.

What happened next was brutal. No fancy moves. No wasted effort. Just straight-up violence that made Seraphina's breath catch.

The first thug went down before he could draw his weapon. One hit to the throat and he was done. The second guy managed to pull his knife but got knocked out when a boot connected with his head.

The third one tried to run. Made it maybe three steps before a thrown dagger caught him in the shoulder and spun him into the wall.

The leader holding Seraphina hesitated. Big mistake.

She drove her elbow back into his ribs and broke free as he doubled over. The hooded guy was already there, grabbing the leader's wrist with one hand and slamming the other into his chest.

The man flew backward and hit the wall hard. Didn't get back up.

The alley went quiet.

Seraphina pressed against the opposite wall, heart pounding. She'd seen good fighters before. Court duels, training sessions, even real veterans.

This was different. This guy was lethal.

He turned toward her, and moonlight caught the edge of a black mask covering half his face. But she could see his jaw. Strong. Angular. She knew that face even with the mask.

He reached up and pulled back his hood.

"Hello, Seraphina."

Duke Caelan Vorenthal stood there, dark hair messed up from the fight, the black mask still covering the upper half of his face. Those intense eyes looked at her with something between amusement and concern.

Of course it was him.

"You," she said, not sure if she was relieved or pissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving you, apparently." He stepped over one of the unconscious guys without looking down. "Though you seemed to be doing okay."

"I didn't ask for help."

"No, you were too busy getting a knife to your throat." His voice had that dry edge she remembered. "Great strategy."

Heat flared in her chest. "I had it handled."

"Sure you did." He moved closer, and she caught the smell of leather and steel. "That's why you looked so relaxed."

She wanted to hit him. Wanted to wipe that smirk off his face and prove she didn't need anyone.

Instead, she found herself staring at his hands. Strong. Quick. Still steady after what he'd just done.

"You're bleeding," he said quietly.

She looked down. A thin line of blood marked where the knife had been. She hadn't even felt it.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see."

"Don't." She stepped back when he moved toward her. "Don't touch me."

Something changed in his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's what they all say."

The words came out harsher than she meant. Too raw. He went still, and she cursed herself for saying too much.

"Fair enough." He stepped back. "But you should clean that cut. Alley knives aren't exactly sterile."

She pressed her fingers to her throat. They came away red.

Without thinking, she let a flicker of healing magic flow from her fingertips. Golden light pulsed briefly against her skin, and the cut sealed itself shut.

Caelan watched the process with familiar calm. "Better?"

Right. He already knew about her healing abilities.

"Why were you here?" she asked, changing the subject. "This isn't your usual area."

"Running an errand. Saw a woman in trouble." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

"What kind of errand brings a Duke to the merchant quarter after midnight?"

"The kind that's none of your business."

She laughed, but it wasn't funny. "Right. Because your timing is always perfect."

"You sound pretty ungrateful for someone who just avoided getting robbed."

"Maybe because I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I." His eyes narrowed. "Which makes me wonder what the Duchess of Vessant is doing in a back alley, dressed like a merchant, carrying enough money to attract thieves."

Her blood went cold. He knew. Of course he knew.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Because I'm pretty sure that wasn't your first time playing dress-up."

The silence stretched between them.

"What do you want?" she asked finally.

"To make sure you don't get yourself killed." His tone was matter-of-fact. "We agreed to work together, remember?"

"That was different."

"Was it?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Because I'm pretty sure you just proved my point about being reckless."

She stared at him, weighing her options. He'd already seen too much. Knew too much. And she had a feeling he wasn't going to just walk away.

"Why do you care?"

"Because," he said, pushing off the wall, "I told you I was fighting with you. That includes keeping you alive long enough to actually fight."

She stared at him, remembering their conversation in the stables. The way he'd said he wasn't there because it was safe. How he'd looked at her when she'd healed his poison.

"You're not alone anymore," he'd said then.

Apparently, he'd meant it.

She needed to move. Her real destination was still waiting, and every minute here increased the risk of getting caught.

But Caelan wasn't leaving. And they'd already established this partnership, however reluctantly. He'd said he was fighting with her, not for her. The distinction mattered.

The question was whether she could handle having him this close to her plans.

"I have business to handle," she said carefully.

"What kind of business?"

"The kind that's none of yours."

He smiled. Actually smiled, like her deflection amused him. "You know, I could walk you wherever you're going. Make sure no more thieves think you look like easy money."

"I can take care of myself."

"Clearly." That enigmatic smile played at the corners of his mouth, the one that made her heart do something annoying and tingly.

She was in trouble.

"Fine," she said, pushing off the wall. "But don't think this means I trust you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They walked through the narrow streets in silence. Seraphina led, Caelan followed a half-step behind. Close enough to help if more trouble showed up, far enough to give her space.

She was way too aware of him. How he moved without making sound. How his attention never left their surroundings. The controlled power in every step.

It should have been reassuring. Instead, it was distracting as hell.

"So," he said after a few blocks, "are you going to tell me where we're going, or do I have to guess?"

"We're not going anywhere. I'm going somewhere. You're just following."

"Like a lost dog?"

"More like a stubborn stray."

She caught his grin and felt something warm in her chest. Dangerous.

"You're enjoying this," she said.

"More than I should."

The honesty in his voice made her stumble. He caught her elbow, steadying her, and the contact sent heat up her arm.

"Careful," he said, his voice lower than before.

She pulled away, but the warmth stayed.

They were getting close now. The streets got quieter, more residential. Fewer people meant fewer witnesses, but also fewer places to hide if things went wrong.

"Last chance to turn back," she said, stopping at the corner.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. I'm curious now."

She turned to face him. In the moonlight, his features were sharp. Dangerous. Good-looking in the way that usually meant trouble.

"This isn't a game, Caelan."

"I know." His expression got serious. "Whatever you're planning, whatever you're building... I can help."

"Why would you want to?"

"Maybe I'm tired of watching from the sidelines."

The words hit harder than they should have. She remembered their agreement from before. Reluctant partners, but partners nonetheless.

"You already said you'd help," she pointed out.

"And I meant it." His expression got serious. "Whatever you're planning, whatever you're building... you have me. For now."

The arrogance should have pissed her off. Instead, she found herself fighting a smile.

He was right, damn him. She did need his help. Not just tonight, but for everything that came after.

"One condition," she said.

"Name it."

"When I tell you to walk away, you walk away. No questions. No arguments."

"Deal."

Too easy. He'd agreed too fast, which meant he was lying. But she'd take what she could get.

"This way," she said, turning down a side street.

The building at the end of the block looked abandoned. Boarded windows, peeling paint, weeds growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Perfect for business that needed to stay private.

She stopped at the back door and pulled out a key.

Caelan's eyebrows went up. "Interesting real estate choice."

"It works."

The door opened with a soft creak. Inside, candlelight flickered from the main room. Low voices carried through the walls.

Caelan's posture changed instantly. Alert. Ready for trouble.

"How many?" he asked quietly.

"Three. Maybe four."

"Armed?"

"Probably."

"And you were planning to walk in there alone?"

She looked at him over her shoulder. "I told you. I can handle myself."

"Right. And if they decided you were a threat?"

"Then I'd deal with it."

He caught her wrist as she reached for the door handle. "Seraphina."

The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest. Low. Rough.

"What?"

"Be careful."

"Always am."

"No," he said, his grip tightening. "You're not. You're reckless. Smart, but reckless."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It's supposed to be a warning."

She stared at him, trying to read his expression. There was something there. Something that made her breath catch.

"Warning received," she said softly.

He let go of her wrist, but his fingers lingered against her skin for a second longer than necessary.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The conversation in the main room stopped immediately.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice called out.

"Someone who has business to discuss," she replied, moving toward the light. "And coin to make it worth your time."

Behind her, she heard Caelan's quiet intake of breath as he realized exactly what kind of business she was here for.

And why she'd needed to come tonight.