“I…” Caleb began, his lips curving into a soft, almost hesitant smile. A flicker of guilt crossed his gaze, and he felt a flush rise to his ears. “I’m still sorry for teasing you—even if it was meant to be lighthearted. I should have stopped when I realized…”

  He glanced at the flickering firelight, his eyes momentarily distant, as if searching for the right words. His hand instinctively moved to rub her wrists in gentle, soothing circles, a gesture that seemed to calm both of them. The warmth of the room, the fire’s crackling comfort—it was as though in this small moment, he could cast off the weight of titles and expectations.

  The guilt lingered, but there was something more, something deeper in him that urged him to speak. It wasn’t about his rank or the shadow of his family’s name, not this time. In the quiet, intimate space between them, he wanted—no, needed—her to see him as just Caleb, not the Young Lord Nightglen, not the Duke’s son, but the man who had been walking beside her through this storm of fate.

  With a soft exhale, he murmured, “Please, call me Caleb.” The words were spoken with a rare vulnerability, an invitation to break down the walls of their roles, and instead, share a connection on a human level.

  Celestia’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. first name? The Caleb Nightglen, asking her to call him so casually? She stammered, searching for the right words, her mind swirling between maintaining decorum and yielding to his request. “M-My… my…” She swallowed, her gaze flitting away, cheeks warm with embarrassment. “My Lord,” she finally said, her voice softer, almost regretful. “I… I shouldn’t call you by your first name… at least, not until…” She trailed off, turning her gaze to the opposite wall, fighting the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. “Until we know each other better,” she finished in a whisper.

  Caleb’s expression softened. He allowed his hands to slide gently from her wrists, his gaze lingering on her face as he caught her blush. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his golden eye, a hint of vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to feel. “Yes… we should get to know each other better,” he said, a slight hesitation colouring his words. “And… I appreciate your understanding. My assistant—she wasn’t supposed to act as she did.” A trace of guilt passed over his face, his hands tightening briefly in his lap before releasing.

  She waved a hand lightly, brushing it off with a small, reassuring smile that made him pause. “You can’t help other people’s actions, my Lord. You acted decently and kept your distance. We were strangers, meeting for the first time. You didn’t know me, and yet… you stayed by my side.” She clasped her hands in her lap, thumbs twining nervously, but the honesty in her voice was undeniable. Relief softened Celestia’s expression. She took a steadying breath, her hands folding nervously as she rubbed her thumbs together, and finally looked up at him. “Thank you for… treating me with respect. For staying with me even when we were strangers.” Her words came out quieter than she intended, each one carefully chosen.

  “You need rest…” Caleb whispered, his hands twitching as he fought the urge to insist she lie down. Watching her closely, he found himself torn between wanting to help her and respecting her choice.

  His thoughts raced as he observed her. His gaze softened as he saw how she fought to stay awake, her eyes heavy, her posture stiff.

  Caleb’s fingers brushed over his wrist, his breath steadying as he tried to make sense of the feelings stirring within him.

  Her stubbornness both frustrated and fascinated him.

  “You’re quite the stubborn one,” Caleb said, his voice carrying a faint chuckle, amusement dancing in his golden eyes. He leaned back, his gaze fixed on her with an affection he was reluctant to acknowledge. “But I’ll be here,” he said softly, almost to himself. He added, “Rest, Lady Pendragon. You’ve earned it.”

  There was a quiet stillness as Caleb processed everything that had unfolded. He had made promises in the past, but for some reason, this felt different. It wasn’t as though he had ever been a knight in shining armour—he had no interest in playing the hero. He sighed softly, a mix of frustration and something else swirling within him.

  With the soft glow of the enchanted fire circle casting a warm light throughout the cave, Caleb took a deep breath. The moment felt fragile.

  “Lady Pendragon…” he began, his voice gentle, the formal title slipping off his tongue. He watched her carefully, noticing the slight tension in her features. “Would it be alright if I sit beside you?”

  Celestia met his gaze for a moment, her eyes weary but soft, and Caleb saw the subtle shift in her expression. She didn’t protest, allowing him to settle beside her. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary. She resisted for a moment, but it was fleeting. The weight of exhaustion overtook her, and she finally yielded.

  A few moments later, Caleb noticed her posture had grown stiff again. With the gentleness of someone who had spent far too many nights tending to others, he carefully guided her to rest against his thigh. His hand brushed lightly along her shoulder, a touch of reassurance. His palm lingered just long enough for her to feel the quiet presence he offered before she drifted into sleep.

  Caleb mused, his heart tightening at the sight of her vulnerability. There was something profoundly fragile in this moment.

  Celestia’s breaths were soft, and shallow, as if the weight of her past refused to let her fully surrender to the moment. Caleb could feel the warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her chest against his. Celestia wondered as her mind blurred, her thoughts drifting between the waking world and her nightmares. she asked herself, confused.

  But this time, there was no cold, no pain. Caleb’s presence beside her seemed to quiet the torment she had carried for so long. She closed her eyes, feeling the strange calm that settled over her. The burn beneath her skin—the torment of her curse—was subdued, quieted by his warmth.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Caleb glanced toward the entrance of the cave, his eyes narrowing. The familiar, comforting shimmer of the protective energy surrounding them—a faint purple veil—caught his attention. His senses prickled, and something in the air felt… different. he wondered. The delicate runes that wove across the barrier, glowing softly, made him feel calmer, as though her protection, even in her exhausted state, still reached beyond herself to shield them both.

  He closed his eye, leaning back against the cool stone wall, his body still as he allowed the peace of the cave to embrace him. The fire’s warmth lulled him into a fragile sleep, but his mind remained restless. he thought, already planning ways to help Celestia, to guide her, to give her answers. Caleb’s mind raced, not with desperation, but with the calculated precision that had always served him well. he thought, his brow furrowing.

  He closed his eyes briefly, sifting through memories of the countless books and scrolls he had studied over the years.

  The sensation of her weight against him kept him grounded.

  Caleb let out a silent sigh, leaning back against the cool stone.

  But his brief respite was shattered as the barrier’s faint shimmer flickered, an unmistakable sense of pressure building from the other side. The sensation pricked his senses, dragging him fully awake.

  Before he could react, Celestia stirred beside him, her face pale, her breath shallow. The moment of stillness shattered. She gasped, her instincts alert, and she struggled up, her fingers tracing ancient symbols in the air. A soft incantation passed her lips, her energy flaring as she worked to reinforce the barrier, even as it drained her. She didn’t fully grasp whether this was reality or a dream—her mind, tangled in both worlds—but she spoke as if it were instinct, calling on her magic with all the remaining strength she had.

  Her effort was enough to push the distant threat back, the pressure on the spell dissipating—but at a great cost. Celestia leaned against Caleb, her exhaustion overwhelming. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her vision blurred. The voices, the torment, faded, and there was only his steady presence beside her.

  Caleb’s heart clenched as he saw her struggle, but he didn’t move. His hand instinctively reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face as his eyes softened. “You’re going to work yourself to death,” he murmured, his voice full of concern as he gently rested his hand on her shoulder, a light but steady touch. “Why didn’t you let yourself rest?”

  He couldn’t hold back the warmth in his tone, the quiet reprimand filled with nothing but care. “I’m here too,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. But the promise in his words was unspoken yet absolute.

  The next morning, as light filtered into the cave, Celestia stirred, her mind hazy as the previous day's events settled back into place. A dull ache throbbed at her temples, the curse’s mark haunting her even now. She blinked, the attack on her protective spell at the entrance gnawed at her thoughts; such disturbances were highly uncharacteristic for the third level of the dungeon. Typically, only the more dangerous sixth level and beyond would witness such assaults. Anxiety clawed at her—would she truly be able to reach the tenth level? Clearing her vision, only to realize her head was resting on Caleb’s thigh, his jacket draped over her shoulders. Her heart raced, warmth creeping into her cheeks as she bolted upright.

  “By the Elements! I… I’m so sorry, my Lord!” Her voice came out louder than she intended, and her embarrassment burned hotter, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

  Caleb’s eyes fluttered open, his expression caught between sleep and surprise, and he instinctively rubbed his face to shake off his embarrassment. He blinked at her, a small, groggy smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t… you don’t have to apologize,” he replied, his voice rough with sleep, one hand rubbing his temple. Seeing her flushed face and wide eyes, he felt a warmth spread in his own cheeks. He shifted, clearing his throat, struggling to regain his composure. “It was no trouble.”

  Still trying to steady herself, Celestia managed a soft smile, though the dizziness lingered. She tapped her cheeks lightly as if it would bring her fully back to reality. “I… I should be on my way…” Her voice faltered, and she looked anywhere but at him, her hands fidgeting with her belongings. Packing them with meticulous precision, as if focusing on the task could rid her of the warmth still lingering from their closeness.

  Caleb watched her, noticing her quick, almost nervous glances. She was kinda adorable in her flustered state, yet he could see her struggling to shake off the exhaustion. He straightened, gathering his belongings, though he couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at her flushed face, wondering if she realized how charming she looked in his coat.

  Clearing his throat, he forced himself to regain his composure. “So… you’re going deeper into the dungeon?” he asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice came out more intense than he intended.

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as her hand absently pressed against her forehead, and Caleb’s heart clenched as he saw the faint lines of pain etched across her face. The curse—its haunting grip flickered in her eyes as she steadied herself. Shadows of the tenth level’s memory lingered there, and he could sense the invisible claws tightening around her spirit.

  The shadows of the curse tightened around her, sharp and unforgiving, pressing her to her limit. Gritting her teeth, she steadied herself. “I need to end this. Even if I have to face it alone.”

  As she forced her breathing to even out, Caleb’s jaw tightened as he saw the determination mingled with vulnerability in her eyes. “You’re not going alone,” he replied, voice firm, unwavering. “I’ll go with you to the tenth level, whether you want me to or not.”

  Celestia hesitated, caught between protest and appreciation, her lips parting in a quiet exhale. “It’s a public dungeon…” she began, a small, playful smile tugging at her mouth. “If we’re heading in the same direction… I suppose I can’t stop you.”

  Her movements grew more decisive as she packed her belongings, her hand settling on her sword hilt with practised ease. She traced her fingers along the runes at the entrance, whispering the counter-spell, watching as the protective barrier dissolved in soft, violet lights. With a determined expression, she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, grounding herself for the journey ahead.

  He smiled, a gentle warmth spreading across his features. “You’re strong, Lady Pendragon. But everyone needs help sometimes. Even the strongest need a little support now and then.”

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself against the cool, damp air that filled the stone cave. Her dominant hand instinctively settled on the hilt of her sword, the familiar weight a reassuring anchor in the swirling uncertainty of her thoughts. She grabbed the staff to steady herself. The path to the fourth level was etched in her memory—these early levels had been her territory long before the curse had twisted her life. Though the dungeon shifted subtly, the key markers remained steadfast, silent witnesses to her countless ventures. Her sharp gaze swept across the surroundings, every shadow and crevice scrutinized for signs of danger. Finding none, she stepped forward, her movements precise and unhesitating, as if the very stone beneath her feet whispered secrets of safety.

  Ahead, loomed the narrow spiral staircase, its worn stones embedded deep into the earth, spiralling down into the depths of uncertainty. With each confident step, Celestia reaffirmed her years of experience, her body flowing with a quiet mastery honed through countless expeditions—an unbroken rhythm that seemed to echo within the dungeon’s stony embrace.