The sun had already touched the tops of the towers when the door to the heir’s chambers opened without a knock.
Roxana Aichenwald entered with the air of a queen who ruled over everything—including other people’s bedrooms. In one hand she held a tray with breakfast, in the other—a folder thick with documents. On her flawless face was an expression of professional concern, beneath which, however, burned a sharp, unmistakable curiosity.
“Randel, Father asked you to review these papers before—”
She fell silent mid-sentence.
The room was quiet. Too quiet for early morning. The curtains were still drawn, the last embers were dying in the fireplace, and on the bed…
Roxana blinked. Then blinked again.
Her brother—the fearsome warrior, conqueror of the horde, future Duke Aichenwald—was sprawled across the pillows with an expression of absolute bliss on his face. His arm was stretched forward, and in it… rested Amanda’s hand.
The Keeper herself lay curled up against his shoulder, her long hair spilled across the pillow, her face so serene that Roxana momentarily forgot why she had come. She had never seen her like this before. Without that cold detachment that made her seem like a goddess. Just a girl, sleeping peacefully beside the man she loved.
Roxana stood frozen, processing the sight. Her mind, trained to calculate intrigues ten moves ahead, suddenly short-circuited. She knew her brother and the Keeper were together. She knew it was serious. But seeing it with her own eyes—how he slept with her in his arms, how their fingers were intertwined, how their breathing fell into the same gentle rhythm… it was too much.
“So,” she thought. “They’re not just dating. They’re already…”
“Randel,” she called, louder this time, trying to regain control of the situation.
No reaction.
“Randel!” she repeated, stepping closer to the bed.
Her brother didn’t even stir.
Amanda, however, flinched and began to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered, and she slowly, reluctantly opened her eyes. First she saw Randel’s hand still holding hers. Then his face—so calm, so close. And only then…
“Ah—!” She jerked upright, nearly tumbling off the bed.
Randel woke instantly. The soldier’s instinct kicked in before his mind could catch up. He rolled over, ready to attack, and only a second later realized the threat wasn’t an enemy—it was his sister.
“Roxana?” His voice was rough with sleep. “What are you—”
“I brought breakfast,” his sister announced in an icy tone, setting the tray down on the table with a little too much force. “And the documents. Father expects your report by noon.”
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She spoke while looking somewhere off to the side, but her cheeks were traitorously turning pink.
“Roxana,” Randel reached for his shirt, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. “You could have knocked.”
“I did knock,” she lied, finally turning her gaze back to her brother. “You didn’t hear. Neither of you did.”
“We…” Randel began.
“I can see what you two were doing,” Roxana interrupted, the familiar venom slipping back into her voice. “Or rather, I can guess. Considering our guest’s lips are practically blue.”
Amanda, who had been trying to merge with the bedsheets the entire time, let out a sound that resembled a squeak.
“Roxana,” Randel’s voice turned warning.
“What?” His sister feigned innocence. “I’m simply stating a fact. As the older sister who cares about her little brother’s health. And his… companion’s.”
She stepped closer, and her scarlet eyes locked onto Amanda.
“Did you know he snores?” she asked with an innocent expression. “Horribly. Since childhood. Mother wanted to take him to a healer, but he always ran away.”
“I do not snore!” Randel protested.
“You do,” Roxana cut him off. “Ask any of the maids. Or your Keeper. She’s probably already aware.”
Amanda, who had finally overcome the first wave of panic, looked at Randel. Then at Roxana. Then back at Randel.
“You snore?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“No!” he barked.
“He does,” Roxana declared authoritatively. “Like a bear in hibernation.”
“Roxana!”
“What? I just want your girlfriend to know the truth. Otherwise she’ll get used to the heroic image and then be disappointed later.”
“I won’t be disappointed,” Amanda said softly, and Randel’s face lit up at her words.
“See?” He turned to his sister triumphantly. “She loves me.”
“Oh my god, you are such a…” Roxana rolled her eyes, but there was no real anger in her voice. Only tired, familiar exasperation. “Fine. Breakfast is on the table. Documents are on the table. Father is expecting you in one hour.”
She headed for the door, but stopped right before leaving.
“Amanda,” she said without turning around.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For him. For making him… happy.”
She walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“She… she was just…” Randel began.
“She came to check,” Amanda said softly. “To make sure I’m not using you. That I’m… real.”
He looked at her—at her messy hair, at her slightly swollen lips, at the blush coloring her cheeks. And he smiled.
“Did she get convinced?”
“I think so,” Amanda smiled back. “Your sister… she really loves you.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Sometimes a little too much.”
“It’s sweet.”
“It’s terrible. She’s going to meddle in our lives every single day.”
“And you don’t want that?”
He looked at her again. There was no fear in her eyes. No doubt. Only love.
“I do,” he said. “Everything that comes with you—I want it.”
She reached for him, and he pulled her into his arms, forgetting about the documents, the breakfast, and the strict father waiting for his report. Right now, there was only him. And her. And their shared morning.
And outside the door, Roxana leaned against the wall and let out a long breath. Her heart was beating faster than usual.
“He’s happy,” she thought. “Truly happy. For the first time in his life.”
She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel. Joy? Relief? Or that dull, aching pain because someone else had taken the place she had always considered hers? He was her brother. Her protector. Her only true ally in this world of intrigues and lies. And now… now he had her.
Roxana stared at the closed door. She wanted to walk back in, say something sharp and sarcastic to hide her weakness. But she didn’t.
“Be happy, brother,” she whispered. “And I… I’ll be right here. Like always.”
She turned and walked down the corridor, her steps firm, her back straight. But inside, where no one could see, she was crying. Not from pain. From the quiet realization that someday she might also want someone to look at her the way Randel looked at Amanda. That someday she might wake up in someone’s arms without fearing it was just a dream.
“Someday,” she promised herself. “Someday.”
For now, there were documents, reports, intrigues, and endless work. And she was ready. As always.