The forest stretched quiet and endless around them, shadows crawling over the dirt path as the sun dipped behind the trees. They had stopped for a brief rest—Catria hadn't even asked if Althea needed one, just dismounted with that same quiet, deliberate precision she always used. No wasted movements. No unnecessary words.
It was deliciously maddening.
Althea stayed seated on her horse a moment longer, watching Catria as she adjusted the saddlebags with the kind of focus one might use for sharpening a blade. Calm. Distant. Unbothered.
And Althea almost hated it.
Her legs ached, her layers of clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, and the silence between them felt like a vice, pressing tighter with every passing minute. She had been trying—gods, how she'd tried—to provoke Catria all day. Snide remarks. Slow riding. Letting her cloak "accidentally" drag into the mud. Nothing worked.
Catria hadn't reacted once. Not a twitch. Not a scowl. Just… unshakeable control. And that control was driving Althea slowly and relentlessly mad.
Althea saw her chance to strike.
Catria knelt by the saddlebags, focused on adjusting the straps—too focused for Althea's liking.
Her fingers toyed with the leather reins, a reckless smile creeping across her lips. If words wouldn't get to the knight, maybe something else would.
"So serious all the time," Althea called out, her voice laced with mock sweetness, dismounting her horse swiftly. She strolled up behind the knight, her fingers brushing a low-hanging branch like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Tell me, Sir Catria—do you ever relax? Or are you afraid you might crack if you smiled?"
Catria didn't look up. Her hands moved with practiced precision, tightening the leather straps as if Althea weren't even there.
Gods, she was infuriating.
Althea took another step closer, until she was standing right behind the knight. Close enough to see the play of muscle beneath Catria's tunic. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her, even in the cool air.
"Nothing? Not even a twitch?" Althea murmured, letting her voice dip low and teasing. "I think I could make you twitch if I tried."
Then she saw it—the slightest flicker of tension in Catria's shoulders, gone almost as quickly as it came.
Ah. So there was a crack after all.
Althea stepped closer still. She could feel the slow rise and fall of the knight's breath, steady and maddeningly controlled.
"Come on, Sir Knight." Althea's voice turned soft, almost conspiratorial. "It's only the two of us. Surely you've thought about it."
That did it.
Althea sensed it a second too late—the way the air changed, the stillness turning sharp. Her pulse raced as she registered Catria's sudden, fluid movement, faster than she'd expected.
And then the world tilted. The rough scrape of bark met Althea's back, and the breath fled her lungs in a sharp gasp. Her hands flew up, instinctively grabbing at the knight's arms, but Catria was already there, pinning her against the nearest tree.
And just like that, the game was over.
Or maybe it had just begun.
Catria crowded into her space, pinning her in place with her body, her knee between Althea's legs. One hand braced beside Althea's head, the other still gripping her wrist in an unyielding hold. Althea felt the deliberate restraint in Catria's touch—the tension there, as if she were holding herself back from something more.
For a moment, the only sound was the wild beat of Althea's heart thudding against her ribs. Catria was so close—closer than anyone had ever dared to be. The knight's face hovered just inches from hers, close enough that Althea could see every fleck of silver in her storm-gray eyes.
And gods, that look—that steady, unyielding gaze that said I warned you, and you didn't listen—made Althea's stomach flip in a way that felt dangerous.
"What are you doing?" Althea whispered, but the teasing note in her voice faltered under the weight of Catria's gaze. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat, but she forced herself to tilt her chin up defiantly, refusing to flinch.
Catria's eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, her expression unreadable but filled with a simmering intensity that made Althea's skin prickle. "Is this what you wanted, princess?" Catria's voice was low, smooth as velvet, but edged with steel.
Althea's back pressed into the bark, the rough edges biting through her dress. The heat rolling off Catria was a sharp contrast to the chill in the air—an unbearable, maddening warmth that made her want to lean closer.
"Well?" Catria whispered, her voice a dangerous murmur. "You wanted my attention, didn't you?" The words slid over Althea's skin like a slow caress, and she hated how they made her shiver.
But she wasn't about to back down. Not now.
"And if I did?" she breathed, her voice soft but laced with challenge. "What are you going to do about it?"
Catria's lips curved into the faintest, most infuriating smile. "You'll like the answer too much."
Before Althea could respond, Catria's grip tightened on her wrist—just enough to make her breath catch again.
The knight leaned in even closer—so close that her lips brushed the curve of Althea's jaw, a feather-light touch that burned like fire. Althea's pulse roared in her ears. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let the gasp slip from her throat. The smallest shift would close the distance between them, but Catria didn't move. She just held her there—trapped, pinned, breathless.
"You keep pushing," Catria whispered, her voice soft and deadly. "But you don't know what you're asking for."
Althea tilted her chin, defiant even as her heart pounded against her ribs. "And what if I do?"
Catria's smile didn't falter. "Then you'll regret it."
But beneath the words was something else—a subtle flicker, a war she seemed to be waging within herself, as though Althea's persistence had started to pull at something Catria wasn't prepared to let go of.
The world narrowed down to this moment—just her, Catria, and the searing heat between them, simmering and waiting to break. Every shift of the knight's body, every inch of space between them, felt charged—like a fuse burning down too slowly. Althea swore the air between them sparked.
And just when she thought it was going to happen—the faint brush of her lips burned like fire—the knight pulled back. Catria's gaze lingered, just for a second too long—just enough for Althea to wonder. It wasn't hesitation exactly, but it was something.
Althea's breath was a whisper, taunting yet vulnerable. "You could hurt me, and we both know I wouldn't stop you."
Catria's grip tightened on Althea's wrist, her knuckles going white. "Stop." The word came out like a warning, but there was a strain to her voice, a crack in the armor that she couldn't quite conceal.
Althea's gaze held Catria's, unyielding and defiant. Her heart pounded, but she tilted her chin up, the challenge unmistakable in her eyes. "You can't stand it, can you?" she murmured, her lips curving in a daring smile. "Knowing you like this."
For a split second, Catria's mask slipped, her eyes darkening with something raw and conflicted. Her fingers flexed around Althea's wrist, and she pressed her knee more firmly between Althea's legs, pinning her more securely in place. "I said… stop," she repeated, her voice low and edged with a control that felt one breath away from shattering.
Althea's pulse raced as Catria's hand lingered, her touch firm but trembling slightly, betraying the restraint it took to keep herself in check. She felt the heat radiating from Catria's body, the tension simmering in the small space between them. It was intoxicating, dangerous, and she wanted nothing more than to push further, to see just how far she could go.
But instead of moving away, Catria stayed there, her gaze locked onto Althea's, her jaw clenched as though her self-control were hanging by a thread. Her thumb brushed over Althea's wrist in a touch that was almost tender, a silent battle playing out in her eyes. She tightened her grip, not to restrain Althea, but as if grounding herself in the moment, struggling to maintain her control.
Neither of them moved, the space between them charged and breathless, both of them caught in a tension that felt as fragile as it was potent. The words they didn't say hung heavy in the air, unspoken, simmering beneath the surface.
Althea could feel her own breath coming fast, her defiance faltering as something deeper took hold. The ache in her chest mingled with the thrill of being this close, of having provoked Catria to the edge.
Catria's face was mere inches from hers, close enough that Althea could feel the heat of her breath, could see the conflict simmering in her storm-gray eyes. And for a moment, it felt like something was about to break.
But instead, Catria held herself there, the tension unresolved, leaving both of them breathless and raw, neither daring to take that final step.
Then, just like that, the warmth of Catria's body slipped away, leaving nothing but cold air and the ache of what almost was.
The absence of her touch was like a slap.
Althea's chest heaved, her breath coming too fast, the sharp sting of Catria's absence still prickling under her skin.
For a moment, Catria just watched her, silent and unreadable. Then, she adjusted her gauntlet with maddening composure, as if none of it mattered at all.
"On your horse, princess." The words landed like a blow—final and inescapable. Catria's hands flexed at her sides, as if reminding herself to stay in control. "Now." Her tone was cool, measured—an unspoken warning beneath every word. "Before I remind you why you shouldn't play games."
Althea's fists curled at her sides, her nails biting into her palms hard enough to hurt. As her pulse slowed, she realized she hadn't just been trying to get a reaction. Something about the fire in Catria's eyes called to her, reckless and magnetic. She couldn't tell if she wanted to push Catria to break her composure… or if she was hoping to lose her own.
She told herself it was just a game—just harmless fun. But the ache in her chest said otherwise.
Gods, she hated her.
Hated how nothing she did could touch her. Hated that no matter how hard she pushed, the knight never broke. Hated the way it made her chest ache, that sharp, awful need to push harder.
But the worst part?
She wanted her to do it again.