Chapter Text
"Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break, every step you take
I'll be watchin' you
Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play, every night you stay
I'll be watchin' you."
Every Breath You Take, The Police
The corset no longer hurt her. She had loosened the brown laces that dangled in front of her dress. Eleanor breathed. But she was completely soaked.
And freezing.
The dawn was rising on the horizon, and the stars were vanishing on the opposite side. There, where the castle rose like the brightest star in the dying dark sky. It was disappearing from her view, along with the last remnants of the night and the memories of one of the strangest evenings of her life.
A dangerous, thrilling night. Magical.
In so many—too many—ways.
Eleanor shook the skirt clinging to her legs. “Jumping from the King’s study—on the first floor—and swimming in the river wasn’t exactly a brilliant idea…” She removed some twigs caught in the hem. “But it was the only way—” She lifted her skirt and noticed some old scars from past escapades. “I wonder… fighting, he must have some too, somewhere…” She immediately flinched, realizing what she had said and imagined.
Her face turned redder than the sky in the East.
While her eyes drifted West. Toward the handsome paladin.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Kali!” Eleanor ran to hug her sister.
“Stop! You’re completely soaked!”
“What happened?”
“Dad.” Eleanor reached her father, who was waiting beside a tree in the forest. “I know the places where the exchanges of goods and money will happen. I read the maps in the King’s study.”
“You’re drenched, Ellie,” the sturdy man observed. “Why? Did someone hurt you?”
“No. I was careful.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You know I’m the cleverest thief in this realm.”
“Hey! The last word hasn’t been said!” exclaimed Kali, arms crossed.
“Do you want to know, then, where and when to hit that arrogant, useless King’s fortune?”
“First, dry off.”
“Dad…”
“No objections, Ellie. I’ll wait inside. Now.” Raising his voice, he went back into their humble cabin: a wooden home that blended perfectly with the rest of the forest, tall and dense.
The river flowed quietly beside Eleanor, quenching the animals’ thirst. She gently caressed a small fawn.
“It’s really annoying,” she said, turning to her sister, “to have powers that let you control and transform anything… except drying off or fixing hairstyles or clothes.”
“It won’t take long,” Kali reassured her. “But tell me… how was the ball?”
Eleanor shrugged, careful not to give dangerous details or to follow that tiny flame that had begun flickering in her chest.
“Didn’t you have fun with anyone? Didn’t you use any victims?”
“No. This time… it was simpler. I just had to wait, enjoy myself like anyone—without anyone important—and then steal the critical information.” Eleanor wrung out her hair, kissing the fawn goodbye.
“Simple…?” Kali looked at her with concern. “No one got in your way?”
“Everyone asleep.”
“Mm—and where are we striking?”
“Northwest. In the high Hawk forest.” Eleanor winked. “We’ll have fun!”
“Ellie, get inside! It’s too cold for you like this!” shouted Jim from the window.
Eleanor sighed, and a strange thought leapt into her mind: If Dad knew about the paladin Michael Wheeler… he would probably ignore his title as paladin and take him out with his own hands.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
It was time to dry off.
Because that icy sensation could only come from that—
And not from constantly thinking about the handsome paladin and his final sad expression.
***
Only a few minutes left. Adrenaline at its peak.
The forest seemed silent, but Eleanor heard the distant clop of carriage hooves.
A light breeze stirred the leaves in this dense, dark part of the forest.
A clear signal, she thought, raising two fingers to caress the air, which slid like a soft touch over her black attire.
Black boots, pants, and tunic. Typical clothing of any ordinary man, but with a gray belt—and a fake coin pouch to hide a dagger—and a dark bandana.
Only her light brown eyes stood out like beams of light in the darkness Eleanor wore.
“Ready?”
Kali nodded, signaling their father, hidden in a distant bush.
They were slim—well-trained—so the trunk of a tree was enough for each to blend into the forest shadows.
The sound of the hooves grew louder. They were close.
Eleanor took a deep breath, ignoring the speed of her heartbeat, and took her position. Peeking from behind her tree, she amplified her senses with her powers.
And there came the convoy.
“Four riders: two ahead, two behind,” Eleanor whispered mischievously. “And the carriage.”
“With our treasure.”
“With the people’s money for the people.”
***
“Too quiet,” murmured the ranger behind the carriage, fingers brushing the bow on his back.
“Exactly as planned,” commented the paladin beside him. “We expected it. The thief chose well which maps to steal and, of course, which place to hit first: the darkest, densest spot. Do you know how many legends circulate about the high Hawk forest?”
“Too many. I’ve heard of witches and wizards, good magic and dark magic, used to destroy the weak.”
“And the good magic?”
“No idea. Usually, the legends that spread fastest among the courts are always the ones with the worst outcomes.”
Michael scanned the forest. Through his helmet, he carefully observed every dark corner, every branch, every trunk. He knew perfectly well how these small-time thief ambushes worked. He had seen many. But this was the least evil compared to battles fought in mud and blood.
“Why did the King ask one of his guests to handle such a troublesome and dangerous task?”
“Sir Lucas,” the paladin called with friendly respect, “no one ordered me. I volunteered. This is nothing compared to much else my body and eyes haven’t seen or felt.”
“We’re close, Sir Michael.”
The paladin sharpened his vision in the forest.
A breeze brushed his armor before vanishing among some trees on his right.
Lightning struck him.
Two mischievous, cunning eyes peeked from behind one of those trunks.
“I got you,” he whispered, before the wind stole his voice.
A silent communication passed through their gaze, freezing time and space for an instant. The same feeling from the night before resurfaced for a moment—a fleeting, gentle caress—too quick to fade just as an arrow was shot.
***
The arrow grazed her cheek, scratching it.
The carriage exploded through her powers. It flipped, breaking like an eggshell before Jim’s bush.
The four horses neighed in fright, rearing on two legs.
Eleanor guided two steeds with her mind toward Kali, who would handle the riders. She took the other two, especially the ranger.
She ran to take cover from the arrows, sliding through dead leaves and disappearing into a wide, dense bush. Twigs pricked her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the hiss of arrows increasing toward her.
She didn’t want to act like a frightened rabbit, but the riders weren’t her target. She didn’t kill innocents. She saved them.
The fewer deaths she caused, the more her soul could claim a grain of peace in the storm of nightmares and memories she lived in.
“Get out!” shouted the ranger, bow aimed at various points. He was alone.
Patience, she thought, removing the bandana from her mouth to press it against her wound. The other rider is surely with the others.
A scream pierced the forest.
“Exactly.” Eleanor waited for the ranger to approach her bush before moving another one with her powers from the opposite side.
As planned, the ranger immediately turned and shot an arrow in that direction.
Using her powers, she lunged quickly behind the tall, sturdy man, pressing a dagger to his throat. “Surprise.”
The ranger struggled, trying to free himself. But his body was paralyzed—as if bound by an invisible chain.
“This is magic.” He tried to look her in the face, but she held him tighter, avoiding eye contact.
“You’d better stay still,” she threatened, pressing the blade to his neck, “son of—”
“And you’d better let him go.”
Eleanor widened her eyes, hearing that authoritative, deep voice behind her. Exactly where the tip of a sword touched her. “Shit.”
“Apparently, women in this realm have long tongues.”
Holding her hostage tightly, she didn’t move.
“And that’s not a virtue?”
The tip pressed harder.
“Not socially. Many nobles and valiant knights would consider it an unforgivable flaw. A trait that humiliates a woman’s elegance.”
“And you, knight? Do you agree?”
“Could you stop talking nonsense and free me?!” exclaimed the ranger. “I’m trapped.”
“In my humble opinion, a woman who fully expresses herself with courage is a real, human woman, not fake—like so many, God knows, I’ve met. I am a concrete man.” The paladin’s voice hardened, low behind his helmet. “Now turn around, thief. And let my companion go.”
“A modern man.”
“Turn around, I said.”
Eleanor glanced at her arm, where she had tied her bloodstained bandana. She inhaled and remained calm. She raised her hands—in surrender—but did not free the ranger from her powers. She stepped back without looking.
“Turn around.”
“What would it change? You’ve already caught me. You’ve defeated me.”
“Don’t mock a paladin.”
“Uh—high rank.”
“I won’t fall for your temptations. I’ve searched for you all night. You won’t escape.”
“Interesting exchange of opinions, don’t you think?” With a swift spin, she bent to hide her face from the knight, kicking him in the neck. She drew her magic and pushed him forcefully to the ground.
The paladin fell: his sword and helmet slid off from the violent impact.
Eleanor paid him no mind and went straight to the ranger. With a precise blow to the back of his neck, she knocked him out.
The noise of dry leaves doubled, and adrenaline surged. She turned just in time to stop the dry sword body with her magic-laden hands. Head bowed, she dragged the paladin toward the nearest trunk.
But the curly-haired knight was stronger and smarter than she expected. With a quick leg move, he tripped her, making her fall sideways, while preparing to strike with his sword.
The blade was a hand’s width from her nose, stopped just in time by her powers. Now she was on the ground, and he towered over her in shining armor.
But instead of the horrid, ruthless expression she had imagined, he looked at her with surprise, wonder, and confusion.
“You…”
A beat skipped in Eleanor’s chest. Impossible. How? Why? Why him?
“…are a mage,” he said too quietly.
Eleanor ignored the shivers running through her body.
“Worried?”
“Not at all.”
“You should be.” With thought, her dagger flew into her hand.
“Fascinated.”
Eleanor shook her head, even to erase what she had just felt. “Wrong.” She breathed deeply. “I could easily strike you where the sun doesn’t shine with a leg and pierce your neck with my blade.” She smiled falsely, though—the same strange feeling from the night before teased her heart. “Or I could spare you, removing you from me and immobilizing you as I did with your friend.”
“You’d really do that?”
“What?”
The paladin’s gaze darkened. “Remove me from you.”
Eleanor’s heart raced. “Of course. I have a mission, and neither you nor your sword can stop me,” she said through clenched teeth, plunging her magic-laden hand into his sword stuck in a distant tree.
He curled his mouth into an unusually amused expression. He raised his hands in surrender. Eleanor’s dagger was still at his throat. “I’m sorry, Lady El—?”
“Eleanor.” She immediately cursed herself. Why did I remind him of my real name? What’s wrong with me?!
The handsome paladin leaned toward her, ignoring the dagger, placing his hands on the ground beside her face. “It was all false.” His hair fell sensually over his freckles. “We weren’t the ones who fell into your trap. You did.”
Eleanor, who until that moment hadn’t reasoned well due to—well—the objectively captivating beauty of the man, widened her eyes and snapped back to reality. “What do you mean?!”
“We were bait. The real money you wanted to steal from the King is on another path. Much less dark and dangerous than this one.” A mischievous smile curved the paladin’s lips. “Your companions have already run. Only you remain.”
Eleanor inhaled, holding in all her surprise, anger, and embarrassment. She showed a simple grin. “Lucky, the handsome paladin… unarmed.” She grabbed him by the tunic collar sticking out from his armor.
Their faces came dangerously close.
“Let’s make one thing clear.” She tightened her grip, ignoring the silent burst of heat between them. “I don’t know how much you know of this realm, of King Henry, and… people like me, but you’re wrong about everything.” She scrutinized him, tracing every corner with her eyes. “From trusting an evil King and serving a realm that isn’t yours to… me. You don’t know me. I don’t play, paladin. I win. Always.”
He was pushed away by her, far enough for her to rise and start running.
But Sir Michael did not relent. Reclaiming his sword, he pursued her. His tall stature helped him catch up quickly. They fought again: magic against metal, blade against powers. “Why spare me?”
“Because I don’t kill innocents.”
“Then why steal? What were those words you told me? A warning? For what?”
“Sir—”
The paladin lowered his sword and approached. “Tell me, milady.”
Eleanor’s chest was now a storm too hot, too contrasting with her clouded reasoning. She bit her lip, watching him approach: tall, sweaty, determined in armor. He was the problem.
A refined, elegant beauty, marred by the battles visible in the edges of his handsome face.
“You want to protect me?”
“You seem a good person, unaware of the treacheries of a realm that invited you only to exploit you.”
He kept advancing. “So you want to protect me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Yet you think I’m a good man.” He sighed. “It will break my heart to see your disappointment in your eyes, but—I did it. I orchestrated this strategy to catch the thief—”
“You’ve been chasing all night.”
He was now close. He removed the guard of one hand and reached out, delicately catching a drop of blood from her still-open wound. “Last night, your cheeks were as red as rose petals,” he whispered.
Eleanor flinched at the delicate touch on her cheek. Unexpectedly, butterflies began to fly inside her against her will.
“It’s strange. It seems like fate, but it’s just a stupid coincidence that the woman I tried in vain to find was the same one I chased for the rest of the night. Isn’t it?”
Eleanor remained silent. Only her heart dared to speak, screaming in the silence of the forest around them.
It felt like the perfect stillness before a storm.
“Why do you steal? Why do this to my heart?”
The warmth in her chest transformed. It became fierce. “I do it for the weak, the sick, the poor. The King is draining their resources just to create lavishly useless balls like last night. I give the people what belongs to them. Our ruler keeps more than 50% of the money rightfully theirs.” She raised her chin proudly. “So forgive me if I bring pain to your heart, but nothing will change my values. I chose to help good people. I have no regrets.”
Sir Michael stared at her long. “Are you sure? Speaking ill of your King is a crime in all the counties.”
Eleanor stepped forward, looking up, lingering on his cheeks, lips, and gaze.
The paladin closed his eyes for a moment, as if feeling that invisible contact.
“You are not evil. I read it in your eyes: you defend your values, your sword, and your honor.” She raised a hand, brushing a sprinkle of freckles with her fingers. “So I ask you to open your eyes and… believe me.”
“Oh, milady—we will always remain two opposing factions. We will remain enemies, as before. I swore loyalty to my crown, which ordered me to aid King Henry. I cannot.”
Eleanor stepped back, her fire, her confidence, her trust dimming. “Other realms know nothing of our social situation. The King hides everything.” A delicate, bitter smile appeared on her face. “I won’t blame you.”
“Where are you going, Lady Eleanor?” Sir Michael called, alarmed.
“I’m not a Lady. I faked it. You know that.” She turned, stopping her steps. “Do you still want to capture me? Is that what you must or want to do?”
“My duty—my oath would require it.”
“And your heart? For me, the only oath anyone should swear, of pure loyalty, is only to their own heart.”
Their eyes became mirrors of each other: waves of melancholy chaining the flames of the feeling brimming inside them.
“In my heart, you are a true Lady.” He tapped his right fist over his heart. “Before my eyes, my soul, and my honor, you are the only one worthy of such a royal title.”
She gave him a sad smile, tears clouding her vision. “Thank you, Sir Michael.”
“I’ve never seen you here.”
“Neither have I.” Eleanor continued walking to reach her family. But then she stopped. “Before I never see you again—I have a confession to make.”
The paladin parted his lips.
“You fight really well.”
“You too, Lady, are very skilled. An excellent opponent.”
Eleanor retraced her steps. Just when she thought her handsome paladin had become only a memory, he called her one last time. He was still there, watching her.
“In another life.”
She didn’t turn around, but in the silence of the forest she nodded and, for the first time, smiled shyly. “I hope so, my paladin.”