Against Time

"I have a horse," Caelan said as they hurried down the dark street. "Left it a few blocks from here."

Seraphina's pulse sped up, and not just from the time pressure. Riding together meant close contact. Very close contact.

"Where?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"This way."

They moved fast through the narrow streets, staying in the shadows between buildings. Every footstep was too loud. Every shadow could hide a guard. Every sound could mean getting caught.

Seraphina's mind kept jumping between the immediate danger and what came next. If they got caught now, everything would fall apart. The Skyglass deal, her plans, her carefully built identity as Phinia Ashara. All of it would be ruined.

But all she could really think about was what it would feel like to sit pressed against Caelan for the ride back. The thought made her stomach flip in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

The horse was tied behind a closed tavern, a dark stallion that looked fast. The animal was restless, probably sensing the tension. Caelan untied the reins quickly, checking the stirrups and saddle like he'd done this hundreds of times.

"Can you ride?" he asked, though he probably already knew the answer.

"Yes, but, "

"Good." He swung up into the saddle smoothly, then held his hand down to her. "Come on. We don't have time to find another way."

She took his hand and let him pull her up behind him. The moment she settled against his back, her breath caught. Even through their clothes, she could feel how warm he was, the solid muscle beneath the fabric. Her arms went around his waist to steady herself, and she felt his muscles go tense under her touch.

It was way more intimate than anything she'd experienced. More intimate than dancing at court functions, more intimate than any of the carefully supervised interactions between unmarried nobles. Here, in the darkness, with danger all around them, there was nothing proper or controlled about the way their bodies fit together.

"Hold tight," he said, his voice rougher than before.

She tightened her grip around his waist, feeling his sharp breath when her hands settled against his stomach.

They took off fast.

The ride was intense. Wind whipped past them as they raced through the dark streets, cold air stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water. Seraphina had to press closer to stay on, her chest against his back, her thighs around his. Every movement of the horse pushed them together, every turn forced her to lean into him.

She tried to focus on the time pressure, on getting back without being caught, on all the practical concerns that should have been taking up her thoughts. But it was hard to think about anything except how solid and warm Caelan felt against her. How his body moved with the horse. How she could feel his breathing, deep and steady despite their speed.

This was dangerous in more ways than one. Not just because they were racing through the night where anyone could see them. But because every second pressed against him was making it harder to remember why she needed to keep her distance.

"Why did you really do it?" she asked over the sound of hoofbeats.

"Do what?" But his voice was careful. He knew what she meant.

"Step in back there. Show the seal. You could have stayed out of it."

"Could I?" He guided the horse around a corner, smooth and controlled. "You were about to lose the deal."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

She waited, but he didn't say more. The quiet went on too long, and she could tell there were things he wasn't saying.

"It was smart business," he said finally. "The Skyglass operation will be profitable. And having you owe me a favor has advantages."

"Is that what this is? Me owing you?"

"Isn't it?"

She felt the tension in his shoulders, heard the edge in his voice. He was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.

"I was concerned," he said after a moment, "that if personal interests got mixed up with business, the whole deal might fall through. These partnerships work better when everyone stays focused on profit."

His voice was careful, controlled. But she could hear something underneath it. Something that suggested his concerns weren't entirely about business efficiency.

"Personal interests?" she asked, though she kept her voice light. "Like what?"

"Like young lords who get distracted by pretty merchants." The words came out harder than he probably intended.

There it was. The real reason he'd stepped in.

"Ah," she said. "So you were protecting the deal from Marcus's... distractions."

"Something like that."

"Not protecting me from them?"

He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was even more controlled than before.

"You didn't look like you needed protecting."

But the tension in his shoulders told a different story.

"Careful," she said. "We don't have time to walk."

"I'm being careful."

But his voice had gone flat, controlled. Like he was trying hard not to say what he was really thinking.

They reached the edge of the noble district, and Caelan slowed the horse. The streets here were wider, better lit by fancy lamp posts that cast long pools of yellow light. More dangerous for two people who weren't supposed to be out together.

The change was immediate. Gone were the narrow, twisting alleys of the merchant quarter with their deep shadows and easy hiding spots. Here, everything was open, designed to show off wealth and status. The houses were set back from the road behind perfect gardens. Guards patrolled in predictable patterns. Servants moved between the grand estates on late-night errands.

"The estate's just ahead," Seraphina said, checking the moon's position through the gaps between buildings. "What time is it?"

He pulled out his pocket watch, angling it to catch the lamplight. "Twenty past one."

Ten minutes. Her stomach dropped. Ten minutes to get inside, change clothes, and be convincingly asleep in her bed before anyone checked on her.

"That's not enough time," she said, panic creeping into her voice.

"It'll have to be."

They approached the Vessant estate from the back, where the gardens met the outer wall. Even in the darkness, the place looked huge. Three stories of pale stone, with towers at each corner and fancy carved details that screamed old money and older power. Caelan brought the horse to a stop near some trees that would hide them from view of the main house.

"This is as close as I can get," he said. "You'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."

She slid down from the horse, immediately missing his warmth. Her legs felt unsteady after the hard ride, and she had to grab the stirrup for a moment to get her balance back.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him still on the horse. In the moonlight, with his mask and dark clothes, he looked dangerous and unreachable at the same time.

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to get inside without being caught."

"I will."

"You better." His mask hid most of his face, but she could see his eyes. They were intense, worried. Different from the controlled indifference he usually showed in public. "If they catch you..."

"They won't."

He stared down at her for a long moment, like he wanted to say something else. Like there were words fighting to get out that he couldn't quite say.

"Seraphina," he said finally.

She turned. "What?"

He looked like he might say something else, something important. But then his eyes flicked to the estate behind her.

"Earlier this week," he said quietly, "my network found something. Something I should tell you."

She blinked. "Tell me what?"

A pause. His voice faltered, just once.

"Not like this. Not tonight."

Then, softly: "Just... be careful. Not just tonight. Always."

And that was worse than silence.

The way he said her name sent warmth through her chest. Not Phinia. Not Duchess. Seraphina. Like she was someone who mattered to him beyond politics and business deals.

But then he straightened in the saddle, and the moment was over.

"Go," he said.

She turned and ran toward the estate wall, using the route she'd mapped out weeks ago. Behind her, she could hear the horse moving away into the darkness.

The climb over the wall was harder than she remembered. Her arms were still sore from the fight in the alley, and her hands shook from nerves and exhaustion. The stones were slick with dew, making her grip uncertain. Twice she almost slipped, her heart jumping as she caught herself at the last second.

But she made it over and dropped quietly into the garden on the other side. The smell of roses and lavender surrounded her. Under different circumstances, it might have been nice. Tonight, it just reminded her how much she hated this place.

The cold against her back reminded her she was no longer holding him. And she hated how much she missed the warmth.

The servant's entrance was still unlocked, just as she'd left it. She slipped inside and moved quickly through the corridors, taking the route that would avoid the main halls where guards might still be walking around. Her soft boots made no sound on the polished floors.

Every step felt too loud. Every breath sounded like a shout in the quiet house. She kept expecting to hear voices, footsteps, the sound of guards rushing to investigate a noise she'd made.

But the estate stayed quiet around her.

Her heart pounded as she climbed the back stairs, the servant route that would bring her closest to her chambers. Every creak of the floorboards sounded loud enough to wake the whole house. Every shadow looked like someone waiting to catch her.

She was three steps from the top when she heard it. Voices, distant but getting closer. Coming from the main staircase.

Panic shot through her. She was out of time.

She reached her corridor and paused, listening. The voices had stopped. Maybe she'd imagined them. Maybe it was just servants finishing their evening work.

But as she got closer to her door, she heard something that made her go cold. Footsteps. Real ones this time. Coming up the main staircase, slow and deliberate.

She fumbled with her door handle, cursing silently as it seemed to stick. Finally it turned, and she slipped inside just as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs.

Moving as fast and quietly as she could, she stripped off her merchant clothes and shoved them under the mattress. Not the best hiding place, but it would have to do for now. She pulled on her nightgown with shaking hands, nearly ripping the fabric in her rush.

The footsteps were in the corridor now. Getting closer.

She dove into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, forcing her breathing to slow. Her heart was still racing from the ride, from the climb, from the terror of almost being caught.

The footsteps stopped outside her door.

Seraphina closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Her heart was still pounding from the ride, from the close call, from everything that had happened tonight.

The footsteps didn't move. Someone was standing right outside her door.

A breath. Not hers. Just outside the door. Someone was listening. Or waiting. Or both.

Was it Evelyne? A servant who'd seen too much? Alaric's guards?

She forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly, like someone who'd been asleep for hours. But inside, her mind was racing. Who was it? What did they want?

The quiet went on and on. Whoever it was seemed to be listening carefully, waiting for something.

Seraphina kept her breathing steady, fighting the urge to move or make any sound. She made her chest rise and fall like someone in deep sleep while her heart pounded.