The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the royal palace as the Eryndor family's carriage was prepared for departure. Inside the guest chambers, Basil lounged on a cushioned sofa, his shirt unbuttoned casually, revealing his toned physique. Across from him, Celeste sat with a playful smile, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of her chair.
"You're better than I thought," Celeste said, breaking the silence.
Basil raised an eyebrow. "Only 'better'? I think 'exceptional' would be more fitting."
She chuckled softly, leaning forward. "Modesty doesn't suit you, my dear husband."
Basil smirked. "Never claimed it did."
Celeste stood and approached him, her emerald-green dress swishing around her ankles. She perched herself on the arm of his sofa, her fingers lightly tracing the scar on his hand. "But you know," she said, her tone soft and teasing, "watching you toy with Amara like that… it was oddly satisfying. Perhaps I underestimated just how much fun being married to you could be."
Basil leaned back, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers. "I aim to please, Celeste. Though I hope you're not comparing yourself to her. That wouldn't be fair to Amara."
Her laughter filled the room, light and genuine. "Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of stepping into the ring with you. I'll leave that to the poor souls who think they can keep up."
As their banter continued, a figure passed by the open door. Princess Anastasia, Basil's ex-fiancée, glanced in, her jaw tightening as she saw them together. She had been quietly fuming ever since Basil's arrival, and the sight of him sharing an intimate moment with his wife only fueled her irritation.
Celeste noticed her presence and leaned closer to Basil, whispering just loud enough for Anastasia to hear. "You know, seeing her sulk like that is almost as satisfying as watching you fight."
Basil chuckled. "Jealousy isn't a good look on anyone, even a princess."
Anastasia stormed off, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and frustration.
The next morning, the Eryndor family prepared to leave the palace. Basil, ever the unpredictable presence, decided to pay one last visit to the training grounds. Amara was there, practicing once again, her determination as fiery as ever.
As Basil approached, she paused, her swords lowering slightly. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone sharp but lacking the hostility of the previous day.
He held out a sword in its scabbard, the intricate designs on the hilt glinting in the sunlight. Amara's eyes widened. "This… this is the Duke Sword."
"Consider it a gift," Basil said casually. "You've got potential, but you're holding back too much. This might help you unlock it."
Amara hesitated before taking the sword, her fingers brushing the polished hilt. "Why would you give me something like this?"
Basil shrugged. "Maybe I like stirring up trouble. Or maybe I just want to see what you're truly capable of. Either way, don't let me regret it."
He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "Oh, and one more thing—your footwork is sloppy. Work on that, or you'll trip over yourself in your next battle."
Amara's jaw dropped as he walked away, her grip tightening on the sword. "That arrogant—" She stopped herself, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her annoyance.
As the Eryndor family's carriages rolled out of the royal palace, Basil leaned back in his seat, a satisfied grin on his face. Celeste sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
"You've been busy," she said, her voice laced with amusement.
"Life's more interesting that way," Basil replied.
Celeste tilted her head, watching him carefully. "You know, you might be a cocky bastard, but… you're my cocky bastard."
Basil laughed, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers. "Don't forget it."
As the carriage disappeared into the horizon, the royal family stood on the palace steps, watching them leave. The king's expression was unreadable, but the queen's lips curled into a thoughtful smile. Anastasia, meanwhile, crossed her arms, her frustration still evident.
Amara stood at the training grounds, the Duke Sword strapped to her back. She watched the carriages vanish with a mix of curiosity and determination. Basil Eryndor was a man unlike any she'd ever met, and she wasn't sure whether to admire him or loathe him.
One thing was certain: their paths would cross again.