Chapter Text
“Your Grace,” echoed the voice across the enormous hall, muffled by the ruby-red helmet. The knight knelt before his queen's throne and, bowing his head in respect, the long red mane of his helmet swayed and fell gently onto his shoulder.
The queen gave him a small but sincere smile, genuinely happy to see him well and without a scratch. Her gentle gaze observed him, noting that his armor had some ice marks and dents. The fight had been fierce, but once again, her knight in shining armor had won the battle and, most importantly, was alive.
“Leonard,” the queen said softly, making no secret that Leo was her favorite. Her smile grew, but it didn't reach her eyes—not yet. Despite her joy at having him with her and alive, she still had problems to solve. “You have led our kingdom to another victory, and from what I can see, without any deaths again. A great job, as always.”
The knight bowed respectfully in gratitude.
“I am flattered, Your Highness,” said Leo, his voice melancholy and cold as the depths of the most beautiful waters. His armor glistened in the sunlight streaming through the large windows, reflecting tons of sapphire with almost flawless beauty.
As quickly as it had appeared, the queen's smile disappeared. Her face took on a serious expression.
“Have you obtained any information about the Marble Kingdom?” Her voice was laced with venom, as if talking about it disgusted her. Her posture was rigid and her shoulders as tense as the frigid northern climate at the height of winter.
“Nothing significant, Your Grace,” Leo replied, his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look away and risk angering his queen at that moment.
The queen grunted, dissatisfied, her eyes scanning the hall in deafening silence. Her pink eyes—those eyes that would leave any human being spellbound. That left Leo spellbound, that made the poor boy's heart beat as hard as the drums, turning him into her rivers. The eyes that made him swear allegiance to the Kingdom and to his beloved and untouchable queen.
The eyes that made him erase his past and the people who inhabited it.
Leo could feel his queen's restlessness, the way her eyes moved around the hall, anxiously searching for something only she seemed to know. The queen turned her head to look at the man next to Leo. He wore similar armor, a ruby red as strong as fresh blood.
There were few differences: Leo wore a cape made of bear skin, black as night, and had three points on his helmet, like twisted horns, with beautiful, silky red hair pinned just above. Unlike Leo, there was a medallion attached where the black cape connected to the armor.
This knight held his helmet at his waist with one arm, also kneeling, his gaze fixed on the ground. His dark skin was clean, despite the scars of battle. He had thick eyebrows, large pink lips, elongated brown eyes, and a strong jaw. His hair was combed back, though a rebellious strand curled over his forehead.
“Prospero,” called the queen, attracting the knight's attention. Her voice lacked the lightness and warmth of before, but it was neither harsh nor rude.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” replied the knight quickly, raising his eyes to the queen. His eyes shone with devotion and admiration. To Prospero, the queen was like a savior, the one who had taken him off the streets and out of poverty, offering him a home and a new purpose in life: to lead her kingdom into history.
“Any news?”
Prospero shifted uneasily, as if every inch of his body were tense, contorted with frustration. A wave of disappointment or invasion crushed his chest. He felt he should have done more, that his queen deserved more—a triumph, a worthy response, something to make her proud. But nothing.
“Unfortunately, nothing, Your Highness.”
The queen sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion, and, showing no sign of hope, looked away into the void in front of her. Her forehead, marked by deep wrinkles, reflected the gravity of her thoughts, as if the weight of the entire kingdom were there, concentrated in her mind.
“Leave. I want to be alone.” The order, cold and incisive, cut through the air with the force of a blade.
Without hesitation, the knights rose in unison, like well-trained puppets, and withdrew in silence, leaving behind the unbreathable tension that filled the hall.
***
Now, Prospero and Leo walked through the long corridors of the Castle of Cups. The silence seemed to weigh on the walls, broken only by the hurried footsteps of one or two maids who discreetly crossed their path. Sunlight streamed through the huge windows lining the corridor, filtered between the marble towers that cast elongated shadows on the floor.
Fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders, and his armor seemed to drag the weight of the world on his body. The day had been exhausting: talking to the new recruits, training with Prospero, long meetings with the queen... Well, that last part didn't bother him at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Talking to her was one of the things he enjoyed most.
Leo could listen to her talk for hours—about the kingdom, about the war, about any subject she chose. Her voice had something hypnotic about it, made of silk, soft and delicate, sweet to his tired ears. It was like a balm. Even when she got annoyed with his lack of reaction, even when she complained about that iron mask that revealed nothing.
If only she could see behind the helmet, she would discover the truth: Leo's face was always ablaze before her, red as the armor he wore.
Leo always found himself daydreaming whenever he thought of the queen. His luck was the helmet—a shield that hid the effect she had on him. Imagine if she discovered how much he surrendered to every word, every gesture... The taunts would certainly not cease anytime soon. Well, maybe she already knew that and was just waiting for the right moment to attack.
“Annabel will still be the reason for my death,” Leo whispered to himself. Despite the words, there was an almost intimate affection in them, like a veiled declaration.
“I'm glad you think so, pet,” Annabel replied, appearing silently behind him.
The knight shuddered as he felt her nails brush against his armor, sliding from his upper back to his waist. An unexpected heat ran through his body, more intense than any scorching sun could cause in hours. Leo's heart raced, leaping with joy and desire in her presence. His queen... would indeed have enough power to kill him—and he would not resist.
“Let me show you the ways I've devised to kill you, pet,” whispered the queen, her voice dripping with malice in every syllable.
A sudden heat coursed through Leo, and he felt an intense tension between his legs. His body stiffened, his shoulders tensed, and breathing inside the armor became a conscious effort.
Annabel slid her hands around his waist, pressing herself against his body, while her voice dropped even lower, almost like a secret meant only for him:
“Lenore...”
A shiver ran down Leo's spine, and he bit his lower lip hard, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape. Suddenly, he turned and, on impulse, grabbed Annabel's shoulders, making her take a step back.
“Your Majesty... you must have had too much wine,” he said, his voice more tremulous than he intended, much less firm than he would have liked. “You'd better go to your room... before you do something you shouldn't.”
“I know very well what I'm doing,” whispered Annabel, leaning in again, her lips forming the most charming pout Leo had ever seen in his life—and that didn't help the knight at all. “Come on... at least let me hug you.”
“Your Grace flatters me, but... we shouldn't,” Leo replied, his voice tense, almost pleading.
“You excite me, pet,” she replied, malice dripping from her intonation.
“You stink of alcohol,” Leo retorted, in a desperate effort to maintain control.
“Are you saying your queen stinks, pet?” Annabel retorted, arching her eyebrow with a mischievous smile that threatened to shatter any resistance.
“Ah! Look at the time!” Leo exclaimed, taking a hasty step back. “I must go, Your Highness. I have to train the new recruits early tomorrow morning.”
Before the queen could respond, the knight was already walking away down the corridor, almost running, leaving her behind with words stuck on her lips.
***
When Leo finally reached his room and locked the door behind him, the weight he had been carrying collapsed. He fell to his knees on the cold floor, his chest heaving for air. In the muffled silence, the darkness of the walls seemed to welcome him. There, at last, he didn't have to be the unshakable knight. He didn't have to be strong.
Leo ripped the helmet off his head and let it fall to the side with a dull thud. His long, straight black hair with white streaks cascaded over his armor, some strands sticking to his sweat-dampened forehead.
The real reason he never took off his helmet was a secret he had kept since the first day he set foot in the castle. Leonard was not who everyone thought he was.
Leonard was a woman.
The best knight in the Kingdom of Cups—the warrior who had won battles that no man dared to face—was, in fact, a woman who had achieved victories that history would never forget.
The only person who knew this secret was the queen. She had always known that Leo was not a man — and yet she continued to tease him, to flirt with him as if nothing could shake that dangerous game.
She was the only person who really knew who Leo truly was. And also the only one Leo had fallen in love with.
She was lost.
Her real name was Lenore. Lenore Vandernacht, the youngest daughter of a prestigious family from the north of the country—the same family that, to the world, had died in a great tragedy.
But the truth was different. Lenore never died. After a terrible accident with a tree, which left her immobile, she was no longer seen as a daughter. In her parents' eyes, she was nothing more than a burden. A dead weight that brought shame to the family name.
But when she met Annabel, her queen — the only person capable of rescuing her from the hell her life had become — Lenore fell in love. She gave her heart to her without reservation and swore to protect her with her life. And that's exactly what she did.
In recent months, however, something had changed. Annabel was different... closer, more attached, more needy.
It would drive Lenore crazy at some point. She could hide behind armor, she could even pretend to be a man... but she had never said she was stronger than one. And with Annabel insisting so much, sooner or later she would end up giving in to the queen's arms.
But for now, there was another problem.
“Ah... damn it, Annabel,” Lenore growled, rubbing her thighs together. “I need to get this shit off.”