The forest path twisted beneath the hooves of their horses, the crisp air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Althea pulled her cloak tighter, not because of the chill but to steady her restless thoughts. Catria rode ahead in silence, every line of her posture controlled, every movement unhurried. Even her cloak fell in perfect folds over her armor, each sway synchronized with her horse's step.
Annoyingly perfect, Althea thought, suppressing a smile. But beneath her irritation lay her simmering curiosity. It had been nearly two months since they had set out to deliver Althea to her doom, and the knight had only become more withdrawn as the end drew near.
Althea wasn't content to let her pull anway any further.
She nudged her horse forward until they rode side by side, letting her knee brush lightly against Catria as she aligned their horses. She waited for a reaction, but the knight's expression remained unperturbed, her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead.
Althea leaned closer, her voice barely more than a murmur. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to talk a little."
Catria's gaze flickered to her for only a moment before returning to the path. "And what would you have me say, princess?" Her tone was low, measured, as if determined to let nothing slip.
"Oh, I don't know." Althea tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Maybe you could tell me something personal. Like your favorite color. Or what you'd do if you didn't have to follow every rule set out for you."
A faint thrill danced through her chest as she watched Catria's mouth twitch, her expression held in check by iron discipline. Althea knew she was playing with fire, and gods, something about it made her heart beat a little faster, her skin tingling with a barely contained excitement. It was reckless—and yet, she couldn't help herself.
The corners of Catria's mouth twitched, though she fought to keep her expression neutral. "I find silence less… complicated."
"Complicated?" Althea's lips curled into a playful smile. "Surely a knight as composed as you could handle a little conversation."
Catria's grip tightened ever so slightly on the reins, a movement so small most wouldn't have noticed—but Althea did. "It's easier to stay focused this way."
"Ah, so I'm distracting you?" Althea couldn't resist the soft, teasing lilt in her voice. She let her gaze linger, watching for any hint of reaction, but Catria's face remained impassive. "You're only proving my point, you know. Talking wouldn't hurt… unless you're afraid of what you might say."
Catria's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I don't scare that easily."
The statement hung between them, charged, and Althea felt a thrill run through her. She leaned in, her voice softer now, just for the two of them. "I don't believe you."
For a moment, Catria's gaze held hers, an intensity smoldering behind the cool gray. It was a flicker of something unguarded, there and gone in an instant. But before Althea could press further, Catria turned away, her attention returning resolutely to the path ahead.
Undeterred, Althea let the silence build, then nudged her horse closer, their arms brushing again. "You know, two more months is a long time for you to keep this up. You can't keep everything locked up, you know. Sooner or later, something might slip."
Catria's gaze shifted back to her, something like a warning glinting in her eyes. "Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet of the forest. Her grip tightened ever so slightly on the reins, a movement so small most wouldn't have noticed—but Althea did.
Althea found herself leaning even closer, emboldened by that tiny break in Catria's calm. "I'm only getting to know you, Sir Knight. It would be a shame to spend so much time together and not learn anything about each other." She waited, heart racing, as the silence stretched between them, charged with an unspoken challenge.
A faint smile ghosted over Catria's lips—a rare, almost reluctant expression. "You might not like what you find."
Althea's mind spun with possibilities, imagining the cracks beneath Catria's stoic exterior, the person hidden beneath the armor. A thrill curled low in her stomach, the feeling both dangerous and irresistibly alluring. She wanted to see that restraint snap, to be the one who brought it down.
Althea's heart thudded, her own response a quiet challenge. "Maybe that's a risk I'm willing to take."
Catria's gaze held hers a fraction longer, her storm-gray eyes searching, guarded yet unyielding. But there was something there—something that hinted at depths she'd spent a lifetime hiding. Catria's lips pressed into a line, but she didn't respond. Althea watched her, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Are you always this… composed?" Althea asked, her voice dropping to a whisper as if she were sharing a secret.
Catria's gaze shifted, and Althea felt the weight of it settle on her, a warning and a challenge all in one. "I am."
"Oh, really?" Althea's smile grew bolder. "Well, let's test that, shall we?"
Catria's fingers flexed on the reins, her knuckles white for just a second before she regained control. "You seem determined to provoke me," she said quietly, a hint of steel threading through her tone.
Althea shrugged, feigning innocence. "Who me?" She leaned even closer, her lips almost brushing Catria's ear. "I like seeing you unsettled."
This time, Catria's reaction was unmistakable. Her grip on the reins tightened, her shoulders tensing, though she quickly masked it, her face slipping back into impassivity. "Careful," she murmured, her voice low and even. "You're treading dangerous ground."
The words sent a thrill through Althea, and her heart hammered in response. "Maybe I like danger," she replied, her voice soft and daring.
They rode on in silence, but the quiet was no longer empty. It was thick, charged, humming with unspoken things. Althea couldn't help the satisfaction that bloomed in her chest, the thrill that she'd finally stirred something beneath Catria's calm.
Finally, as if giving in, Catria turned to her, her gaze sharp and intense. "There are boundaries, princess. And there are consequences for crossing them." The warning in her voice sent a shiver through Althea, but she met Catria's gaze, unwavering.
"Then maybe you'll just have to teach me a lesson," she whispered, her voice as much a challenge as an invitation.
For a heartbeat, something flickered in Catria's eyes—a flash of tension, of barely contained restraint. But then she looked away, her gaze hardening, her jaw set. "Don't test me," she murmured, her tone calm yet dangerous.
"But what if I want to?" Althea breathed, pulse racing, her mind already spinning with thoughts of what lay beneath that iron control. She knew that she wanted to know just how far she could push before Catria finally broke.
Catria's storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, cool and unreadable, but filled with a weight that made Althea's breath hitch.
"There are games you don't want to play, princess," Catria said softly, her voice low and even. Althea's pulse stuttered. That calm warning shouldn't have made her shiver the way it did.
But it wasn't enough to stop her.
"Who says I don't want to play?" Althea whispered, leaning in just a fraction closer, her voice both daring and amused.
Althea's horse sidled closer, their legs brushing again, and this time, she didn't pull away. Catria's knuckles whitened on the reins, and Althea's heart pounded against her ribs, wild and defiant, as if daring her to push just a little further.
She could feel the warmth radiating from Catria—the steady, quiet power that clung to her like a second skin. Catria's gaze lingered on her for a fraction longer than necessary. A warning. A test of wills.
And Althea, reckless and relentless, refused to back down.
Her lips curled into a slow, taunting smile. "What's the matter, Sir Knight? Afraid to get any closer?" The words hung in the air between them, heavy and dangerous. For a moment, she swore she saw something flicker in Catria's eyes—a crack in that unshakable control, fleeting but undeniable.
Then, as if deciding something, Catria reined her horse abruptly to the side.
The movement was smooth and controlled—everything about the knight always was—but it forced Althea to steer sharply, her horse stumbling awkwardly beneath the sudden shift in momentum. The tether snapped tight, jerking her forward in her saddle.
She cursed under her breath, fumbling to regain her balance, but before she could right herself, Catria's voice cut through the air—low and sharp.
"Enough."
That single word hit harder than a slap. Althea's heart stuttered, her hands flexing on the reins as if debating whether to push just a little further—or not.
She did want to.
Althea breathed, almost without meaning to, "Oh, I doubt that." The words hung there, reckless and brimming with challenge.
"Ride ahead." Catria's tone left no room for argument—cool and unyielding, the final edge of patience wearing thin. "Unless you want to find out what happens when you keep pushing."
For a moment, Althea hesitated, her heart pounding in defiance. She wanted to disobey—to press just a little harder, to see what would happen if the knight truly snapped. Just to find out what lay beneath that careful calm. The more Catria held back, the more Althea wanted to keep pushing, daring her just a little further.
But the look in Catria's eyes stopped her. Beneath the calm, something simmered—something coiled and waiting, just barely held in check. A promise of consequences Althea wasn't sure she was ready to face.
Yet.
She huffed a breath, jerking her reins. "You're no fun," she muttered under her breath, though she couldn't quite keep the grin from curling at the edges of her lips.
Catria gave no response, her gaze already back on the path ahead as if the moment had never happened. The knight's quiet control was infuriating, as always. But this time… this time, Althea knew she'd come close to something.
Close to shattering that calm.
Without another word, she guided her mare ahead. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the thrilling, reckless thought that she'd almost made Catria snap.
Almost.
It was maddening how much she wanted to see that calm shatter. Worse still, some part of her liked that it hadn't—not yet.
She'd come close to something—something dangerous, something thrilling. And gods help her, she wanted more.
The tether between their horses swayed loose once again, as if forgiving for now. But Althea knew, without a doubt, that if she pushed one step further…
Catria might not stop at words next time.
The thought settled deep in her chest—hot, wicked, and impossible to resist.
Gods help her, she wanted to see what would happen if Catria didn't stop.
In fact, she couldn't wait to find out.