Riven opened his eyes with a groan.
The first thing he saw was the sky, veiled in green leaves swaying gently in the wind. The midday breeze carried a stifling warmth, brushing against his sweat-drenched skin. He lay on the grass and his neck... aching.
With a scowl, he raised a hand and rubbed the tender skin on his throat. Just monts ago, soone had choked him until he passed out.
And the culprit...
His eyes shifted sideways. Beneath the shadow of a large tree, the woman sat, her back resting against the trunk, unmoving like a living statue. Her long, red hair swayed softly in the wind. Her gaze was distant, eyes fixed on sothing far beyond reach—as though her mind had drifted away into so unknown place.
Riven furrowed his brow.
’Is she thinking about what happened last night?’
He groaned and sat up with effort. "Gods... Do you choke everyone who saves your life?!" he snapped, his voice loud and furious.
The woman didn’t respond at first. She slowly turned her head toward him, her expression blank. But sothing was different this ti—subtle, like the shadow of an old wound that never truly healed.
"No one’s ever treated kindly," she whispered. "Let alone helped ... or saved . Everyone just wants dead."
Riven fell silent.
The fire in his chest slowly faded, replaced by confusion—and sothing close to sympathy. Her words didn’t sound like an excuse. They sounded real. Bitter. Like they ca from soone who had lived through too much betrayal.
He rembered the scars on her body, the countless wounds etched into her skin.
Then, she spoke again.
"So... you really don’t recognize ?"
Riven scoffed and clicked his tongue. "I don’t even know your na. That’s what I wanted to ask you. Are you so kind of celebrity or sothing? And who the hell were those people chasing you last night? Why would Arkham’s infiltrators co after a girl like you?"
She stared at him silently, then murmured to herself, "So that’s it... now everything makes sense."
Riven tilted his head, frustrated. "What the hell makes sense? Hey—you still haven’t told who you really are."
She turned and looked him in the eye. Her gaze had softened—not sharp or guarded like before. Instead, there was hesitation... and curiosity. It hit her then: this man truly had no idea who she was. He didn’t know her na. He didn’t know the stories. He didn’t know that she was the Mad Queen—the na mothers whispered to their children in warning, the na that carried blood and dread in every corner of the kingdom.
She drew a slow breath.
Then, a na ca to mind—one of her servants from the palace.
"My na is... Anna," she said calmly, like a seasoned actress slipping into a role.
She didn’t know why she lied. Maybe she wanted to see how he would treat her if he didn’t know anything at all.
"I’m a noble from the fortress."
"Anna, huh?" Riven repeated, still unconvinced. "A... noble?"
He didn’t get to press further before she cut in first.
"How did you know those n were from Arkham?" she asked sharply, her voice suddenly alert.
Riven shrugged. "I saw them sneaking around the northern hillside while the battle was dying down. They were crawling in like rats."
"And you didn’t report them?" Her tone was cold now, accusatory.
Riven let out a bitter laugh. "Report? To who? I’m just so guy. Do you know that one of them nearly killed last night? I could’ve died! So if anything, you should be thanking —and paying . Generously."
Ashtoria froze. His words were too direct. Too sincere. There was no flattery. No filter. None of the polished lies nobles usually fed her. It unsettled her—and intrigued her.
And what intrigued her even more... was how he looked at her.
Was he actually being honest when he said those things?
Did he really not fear ?
The mory of his shaless complints the night before resurfaced—his flushed face, his stamring words, the way he’d looked at her like no one else ever had. No disgust. No fear. No lies.
She bit her lip gently.
To distract herself from the heat creeping into her thoughts, she asked, "What’s your na?"
Riven, who had been leaning lazily against the tree, turned to her in surprise. "?" he asked, pointing at himself.
"Yes," she replied calmly, eyes steady. "Your na."
Riven nodded slowly. Then, with a clear voice, he answered.
"Riven."
She held the na in her mind.
Riven...
In the distance, the wind picked up again, carrying with it the scent of dried leaves. The branches above them trembled softly, as if bearing witness to sothing neither of them could yet comprehend.
Riven took a deep breath after saying his na. He glanced at the woman across from him—or rather, Anna, as she called herself—with a cautious gaze. Silence hung in the air, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the warm breeze brushing against their skin.
Then, more casually now, he asked, "So... what are you going to do next?"
Ashtoria turned, her expression calm but far from at peace. "What do you an?"
Riven shifted his posture, resting one knee up. "I an... you said you’re from the fortress. Are you going back? To et your family?"
The question hung between them like a blade.
Ashtoria stared straight ahead. For a long mont, she said nothing. Then, in a voice so soft it nearly faded into the wind, she whispered:
"My family... is dead."
Riven fell silent.
The words struck him like a fist in the gut. Regret crept up his throat. "I... I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I didn’t know."
"It’s fine," she said flatly. But what followed carried a different weight.
"There’s no one left in that fortress I can trust. Not just Arkham’s infiltrators... there are traitors inside. From within."
Her gaze sharpened, the kind of look worn by soone who had been stabbed too many tis by those standing behind her.
Riven watched her, finally starting to grasp the scale of the burden hidden behind that beautiful, cold face.
"You’re sure... they’re still hunting you?" he asked carefully.
Ashtoria looked at him. Her crimson eyes glinted beneath the rising sun.
"Absolutely."
Riven exhaled slowly, turning his eyes skyward.
Shit, he muttered in his head. What the hell is going on in that fortress?
This woman—whoever she really was—was caught in sothing far bigger than he imagined.
And now... he was caught in it too.
His hand reached for the sword lying on the grass beside him. His grip tightened.
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