The room was hushed, save for the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythmic cadence of Lucy's breathing as she lay nestled in the cocoon of her bed. Sting lingered at the edge, his gaze fixed on her sleeping form. A myriad of emotions danced within him, a tumultuous blend of desire, protectiveness, and uncertainty.
He had been acting on instincts since they arrived, comforting her when she needed to, even while she slept, his touch offering solace amidst the turmoil of her tears. Now, with the morning sun casting a gentle glow upon her features, he found himself captivated by her serene expression.
As she stirred, her eyelids fluttering open, Sting's breath caught in his throat. The vulnerability in her gaze, coupled with the drowsy smile that graced her lips, stirred something deep within him.
"Lucy," he breathed, the sound barely more than a whisper, as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Her response was a soft murmur, laden with sleep, yet tinged with a hint of surprise. "Sting... you stayed again"
A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he allowed his fingers to trail through her hair. "Did you doubt that I would?"
Flushed cheeks betrayed her embarrassment as her gaze inadvertently wandered downward, landing on his bare chest. Sting couldn't help but notice her reaction, the way her eyes widened slightly, the subtle hitch in her breath.
He relished in the moment, savoring the tension that hung between them like a tangible veil. Every touch, every glance, seemed to ignite a spark, fueling the growing desire that simmered beneath the surface.
But amidst the allure of their mutual attraction, Sting remained acutely aware of the delicate balance they walked. He knew that Lucy was navigating uncharted territory, her heart still tender from past wounds.
As she tentatively reached out to trace the contours of his chest, Sting felt a surge of heat course through him. His instincts screamed for him to surrender to the primal urges that pulsed between them, to lose himself in the intoxicating rush of desire.
But he resisted.
"We have a list of suspects to go through based on the description that the assassins gave us." Sting cleared his throat. "Lilithe is holding court later, we might be able to mingle with a couple of the courtiers and cross some names off the list."
Lucy stretched, the silk top she wore raising and exposing her creamy navel that Sting felt his cock stir. Looking away, he stood from the bed, having already dressed as he had already met with Bastien and Rogue earlier this morning while the woman slept.
"I will wait for you to dress." Sting offered, as Lucy smiled at him.
"Thank you Sting,"
As she sat in her throne, listening to two farmers, who were explaining why they were here. Apparently, they both believe that the other should pay for the repairs for the broken fence. So it was up to her to solve the trivial dispute. She found it hard to focus though. Rogue stood next to her throne, back straight and his arms crossed as he also listened to what was being said. Chancing a glance, Anna looked over. His hair was tied up in a ponytail as his face was half obscured by his billowy black hair. A thin scar ran across his nose in a slight diagonal.
Rogue was handsome.
Chewing on her bottom lip, her mind strayed to last night. How handsome he looked with the shadows of the flames dancing across his face. How strong and warm he felt wrapped around her as he kissed her with a hunger that couldn't be relieved. It made her stomach flip and a chill go down her spine.
Realizing where her mind had wandered, Lilithe quickly cleared her throat. Rogue had warned her about this—moments when all either of them would think about was being intimate. She could feel the heat rising to her face, and with a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, ignoring the warmth that had spread across her cheeks.
After regaining her composure, she tuned back into the conversation just as the two farmers were finishing up their sides of the story. They had been arguing about the livestock crossing the property line, a problem that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things but required her attention nonetheless. Deliberately making them wait a few moments in silence, she leaned back in her seat, letting the weight of her authority settle over them.
"This all started with your livestock crossing the property line that was put in place when your fathers bought the land and established the fence," she said, her voice calm but firm. "The solution is simple: split the cost of repairing the fence. If you two cannot agree on that, then I suggest you both sell your farms and move away from one another."
She could barely hide her exhaustion, the weariness evident in her tone. The disputes she dealt with felt insignificant, and she was in no mood for petty squabbles—especially ones with such easy solutions, matters that could easily be handled by their lord or lady.
The two farmers bowed deeply, thanking her profusely for her time and advice, and left the throne room, chatting amicably now that their problem had been resolved. Lilithe sighed deeply, rubbing her temple to ward off the headache that was beginning to form.
She still had so much to do today, but luckily for her, she would only have to make one announcement to her court before dismissing them.
"Tonight, we will have a ball in the gardens."
"Court is dismissed!" she announced, waving off the remaining courtiers, who practically bolted from the room, eager to escape.
Her cousin, Mephisto, took it upon himself to usher everyone else out, but Rogue remained by her side, standing tall and unwavering. Once the room was nearly empty, Mephisto approached the base of the stairs and gazed up at her with a concerned frown.
"Cousin," he began, his voice tinged with apprehension, "I have been informed that you've allowed Fiore wizards to stay with us and investigate the attempts on your life."
Lilithe slowly shifted her gaze toward him, her expression unreadable. "Indeed," she replied curtly.
"May I ask why?" Mephisto ventured, though he seemed to know the answer wouldn't be to his liking.
"No," Lilithe responded coldly. "You may not. These are matters of the crown."
Mephisto swallowed hard, visibly unsettled by her blunt dismissal. "Cousin, I am only trying to help."
"You shall help by following the lead of both Rogue and Sting," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I have given them command of this investigation."
Mephisto flinched slightly, hurt flashing across his face before he could hide it. "When I asked to take lead of the investigation before, you refused," he began, but Lilithe cut him off sharply.
"Your guards cannot be trusted," she stated, her voice icy. "It is they who have endangered my life. Their loyalty is divided between your father and me. Clean house first; otherwise, I will do it myself, and I will replace you as well."
Without giving him a chance to respond, Lilithe rose from her throne and strode out of the room, not sparing her cousin a second glance. Rogue followed her like the shadow he had become, his presence a constant source of support.
They walked in silence until they reached an empty corridor. Rogue, sensing her exhaustion, finally spoke. "Is everything alright?"
Lilithe stopped, her shoulders slumping slightly as she sighed. "Just tired, is all."
"Perhaps you should rest," Rogue suggested, his voice gentle.
She turned her head to look at him sideways, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Only if you join me; otherwise, I will just work in my office until the ball is set to begin."
Rogue hesitated for a moment, concern flickering in his eyes, but he knew better than to argue with her. "As you wish, my queen," he said softly, a hint of warmth in his tone.
Together, they made their way to her chambers, the weight of their responsibilities temporarily set aside as they sought solace in each other's company.
The blonde celestial mage, Lucy, walked away from both Bastien and Sting, her shoulders tense with barely restrained irritation. Lord Bastien waited until she was a good distance away before turning to the Guild Master. Just moments ago, they had been embroiled in a heated argument, with Sting making an offhand remark about aristocrats being "complete and utter dumbasses and helpless pricks." The comment had struck a nerve with Lucy, who had become visibly defensive, though she had tried to hide it.
"Sting, you should really watch what you say," Bastien advised, his tone more serious now.
Sting shrugged, unrepentant. "In my experience working with them, they're a bunch of pricks."
Bastien chuckled, shaking his head. "The file on you was right. You really are a complete dumbass."
Sting, mid-bite of his steak, sputtered and choked on the piece of meat, his eyes widening in surprise at Bastien's bluntness. He struggled to swallow as Bastien took the opportunity to continue.
"Lucilia—Lucy—used to be an aristocrat herself," Bastien revealed, watching as the words sank in. Sting stilled, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth. "Before she joined Fairy Tail, she was Lady Lucilia Heartfilia. Her family was one of the most influential and wealthiest in all of Fiore. But she left it all behind to join a guild and become a wizard."
Sting's eyes widened further, a wave of guilt crashing over him. "I had no idea…" he murmured, now feeling like a complete and utter ass for the callous words he had thrown at her.
Bastien said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them, his expression unreadable. It was clear to Sting that if he wanted to make things right, he would have to take the initiative. Bastien wasn't going to hand him an easy solution.
Biting the inside of his cheek in frustration and self-reproach, Sting stood up from the table with a determined look on his face. He couldn't let this slide; he had to find Lucy and apologize. His keen senses quickly picked up on the scent of the upset celestial mage, her emotions lingering in the air like a tangible presence. He followed it, each step filling him with resolve.
As he walked, Sting replayed the conversation in his head, his words now sounding harsher and more thoughtless than they had before. Lucy had every right to be angry with him. He had judged her without knowing anything about her past, without considering the sacrifices she had made to become the woman she was today.
He had been right about one thing, though: he really was a complete dumbass.
Sting found Lucy standing alone in a large, opulent room adorned with tapestries that told the stories of ancient battles and noble legacies. The room was quiet, the air heavy with history, and Lucy was focused on one particular tapestry—an intricate portrayal of Lilithe during a coronation ceremony. Without hesitation, Sting materialized by her side, his gaze following hers to the detailed embroidery.
For a moment, they stood in silence, sharing the space but lost in their own thoughts. Then, with a deep breath, Sting spoke, his voice soft and filled with regret. "Lucy, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. My words were thoughtless, and I didn't realize how much they would hurt you. I'm truly sorry for wounding you with my carelessness."
His vulnerability was evident in the way he spoke, a stark contrast to the confident and often brash Guild Master he usually presented himself as. Despite the fact that their relationship had improved since their first tense encounter at the Grand Magic Games, Sting still found himself uncertain around Lucy. She wasn't just any woman to him; she was someone he had admired as a kid, respected as a rival, and now, increasingly, felt drawn to in a way that unsettled him.
As Lucy continued to study the tapestry, Sting's thoughts drifted back to his younger days. He remembered being just eleven years old, eagerly flipping through the pages of Sorcerer Weekly with Lector, devouring every article about Natsu Dragneel, his childhood idol. He had collected every magazine that featured Natsu, and of course, the infamous centerfold spread about Fairy Tail's newest member—Lucy Heartfilia.
She had intrigued him even back then. A young, beautiful woman who had teamed up with Natsu to form what would become one of the most formidable and, admittedly, destructive teams in all of Fiore. He had often wondered how the Magic Council hadn't broken them up with all the havoc they caused.
As he stood beside her now, he realized that his admiration for Lucy had evolved over time. She was no longer just the powerful wizard he read about in magazines or the rival he faced off against in competitions. She was a real person, with real emotions, and a past that he knew little about but was beginning to understand.
"I appreciate the apology," Lucy finally said, glancing at him with a soft smile. "Thank you."
Sting was once again struck by how compassionate Lucy was, how easily she forgave him despite the hurt he had caused. He remembered running into her at a ball after the Eclipse Gate incident. She had been searching for Natsu, worry etched on her face, and Sting had taken that moment to pull her aside and apologize for his behavior during the Grand Magic Games. He had felt disgusted with himself for how he had laughed at Flare's cruelty during Lucy's match and how he had reveled in her misery during the Naval Battle. Yet, Lucy had smiled and waved off his apology, as if his actions were nothing. Her kindness and grace had only made him feel more unworthy of her friendship.
"Your words hit a bit close to home," Lucy began, her voice calm but tinged with a distant sadness. "I was born as an aristocrat, into wealth and fame. My father was Jude Heartfilia, a man who built his empire with nothing but his bare hands and hard work. My mother died when I was young, because she opened the Eclipse Gate in the year X777 when the dragon slayers traveled four hundred years into the future."
Sting's heart tightened at her words. He hadn't known this side of Lucy's past, hadn't realized the depth of her pain. Her voice was steady, but the weight of her story was palpable. He felt honored that she was opening up to him, that she trusted him enough to share such personal details.
"My father, an ambitious man, threw himself into his work after my mother's untimely passing," Lucy continued, her eyes distant as she recounted her memories. "He let grief consume him, neglecting me in favor of his empire. I ran away from home when I turned sixteen, with only the clothes on my back and a couple thousand jewels. For over half a year, I wandered from town to town, taking on small jobs, collecting keys, and training myself."
Sting swallowed, feeling a wave of guilt. He had judged her so harshly without knowing anything about her struggles, about the pain she had endured. He was an idiot, a complete asshole for speaking so carelessly. No wonder Lucy had reacted the way she did; he had insulted not only her but everything she had fought to escape.
"One day, I stopped in a beautiful seaport called Hargeon," Lucy said, her tone softening with a hint of nostalgia. "That was the day I met Natsu. He saved me from a love charm and then from being sold into human trafficking. After he destroyed the port, he grabbed my hand and offered me a chance to join the guild of my dreams. What girl could refuse?"
Sting couldn't help but smile at that. Despite the darkness of her past, Lucy's strength and resilience shone through. She had taken the hand that was offered to her and built a new life, one where she could be free and pursue her dreams. He admired her even more now, not just for her power as a wizard but for the incredible woman she had become.
"A few months later, everything changed," Lucy continued, her voice growing more serious. "We came home from a mission to find our guild vandalized by Gajeel. We were going to let it slide, but then he committed an unspeakable act. Fairy Tail declared war on Phantom Lord right then and there."
Sting frowned. "War between guilds is against the law, though."
Lucy's lips curved into a smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "When do we ever play by the rules?"
A jolt of electricity shot through Sting's body at her words. He had felt this before—the strange, thrilling sensation whenever he was near her. He remembered the first time Lucy had come to his guild, her eyes puffy and red, depression hanging over her like a dark cloud. Yukino had quickly whisked her away from prying eyes, and she hadn't returned for a week. Each time she did visit after that, Sting felt that same inexplicable pull toward her, a feeling that made him queasy with both excitement and uncertainty.
Of course, he knew what it meant. His inner dragon had recognized Lucy as his mate, screaming at him to claim her. But Sting had resisted. Lucy had lost so much recently; she needed time to heal before he could even think about pursuing her. It was the right thing to do, to give her space and time, even if every instinct in him urged otherwise.
"My father paid Phantom Lord to bring me back to him," Lucy said, her voice filled with a mix of sorrow and understanding. "And the guild master, José, took that as an opportunity to attack us. I'm telling you this because I believe you're a good friend, Sting. Someone I can trust. Even though I don't agree with your crass words… I can't disagree with you entirely. My father made bad decisions, but in the end, he became the man I once knew, the man my mother fell in love with. These people are just as capable of being good as they are bad."
Sting felt like the biggest jerk in the world. He had insulted not just Lucy, but her late father as well. He was going to have to make it up to her, and he knew it wouldn't be easy. He'd have to ask Rogue for advice; he was much better at these things than he was.
"Thank you for trusting me, Lucy," Sting said softly, reaching over to gently take her hand. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, his touch tender and full of unspoken promises. When he turned his gaze to her, he found her already looking at him, her eyes filled with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat.
Was that longing he saw in her eyes? Sting didn't want to get his hopes up, didn't want to assume she felt the same way he did. But the connection between them was undeniable, and it was growing stronger with each passing moment.
He needed to talk to Rogue, get some advice on how to handle this. He couldn't mess this up—not when it felt like something so important was at stake.
"Thank you for being understanding, Sting," Lucy said, her voice soft, almost intimate.
Sting's heart swelled at her words. He knew he had a long way to go, but for now, he was content to take it one step at a time, building something real and lasting with Lucy—something that, maybe one day, could become so much more.
Lilithe stood on the balcony, her gaze fixed on the vast, moonlit gardens below. The soft summer breeze carried the scent of blooming roses and lavender, rustling the delicate leaves of the trees that lined the cobblestone paths. The gardens were her sanctuary, a place where she could momentarily escape the weight of the crown and the burdens that came with it. All the courtiers were partying below, drinking wine and conversing lively.
She wore a gown of the finest silk, the color of soft pink rose petals. The bodice was expertly corseted, accentuating her slender waist and graceful curves, while the skirt flowed down in layers, shimmering under the moonlight with every subtle movement. Her pink hair was loosely curled, cascading down her back, with a few strands playfully brushing against her bare shoulders. In her hand, she held a crystal goblet of deep red wine, the liquid catching the light and reflecting the warmth of the evening.
Beside her, Rogue stood silently, his presence both protective and reassuring. He was dressed in formal attire, his black tunic embroidered with silver threads that caught the faint light, making him look almost otherworldly. His posture was as steady as always, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, ensuring that nothing and no one could disturb the peace of this moment. He was her shadow, always there, always vigilant.
Not far from them, her uncle and aunt stood engaged in quiet conversation, their voices hushed as if not to intrude on Lilithe's thoughts. Her uncle, Duke Cedric, was a tall man with a commanding presence, his broad shoulders draped in a deep blue cloak that matched the sternness of his expression. Beside him, her aunt, Duchess Seraphina, was the epitome of grace, her elegant gown of pale lavender blending with the soft hues of the evening.
"Lilithe," Duchess Seraphina's voice was gentle as she addressed her niece, her tone laced with concern. "You seem lost in thought, my dear. Are you alright?"
Lilithe turned her head slightly, offering her aunt a small, reassuring smile. "I am fine, Aunt Seraphina. Just... reflecting on things."
Duke Cedric stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You carry a heavy burden, Lilithe. It is natural to feel the weight of it, especially now, with all that has transpired."
Lilithe nodded, taking a slow sip of her wine. The rich flavor lingered on her tongue, grounding her in the moment. "I know, Uncle. But tonight, I just wanted to find a bit of peace, to enjoy the beauty of the gardens and the company of those I trust."
Her uncle and aunt exchanged a glance, their worry evident, but they respected her need for solitude. They had seen her grow from a spirited child into a strong and capable woman, one who had faced challenges and threats with courage and resilience. Yet, they also knew how much she had sacrificed, how much she had endured for the sake of her kingdom.
Rogue remained silent, his gaze shifting momentarily to meet Lilithe's. There was an understanding between them, one that required no words. He knew how much she had on her shoulders, and though he couldn't ease the burden, he could stand by her side, ensuring that she was never alone.
Lilithe turned her gaze back to the gardens, her thoughts drifting as she took in the serene beauty before her. The night was quiet, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves. The moon cast a silvery glow over the landscape, highlighting the meticulously arranged flowerbeds and the sparkling fountain at the center of the garden.
"I often wonder," she said softly, almost to herself, "how different things would have been if life had taken a different turn. If there were no crown, no court, just... freedom."
Duchess Seraphina reached out, gently touching Lilithe's arm. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, Lilithe. You have the heart of a queen, but also the soul of a woman who dreams and feels deeply. It is not a weakness to long for peace, to wish for a life that is simpler."
Lilithe took another sip of her wine, letting their words sink in. She appreciated her Aunt's concern, her unwavering support, but the loneliness that often accompanied her role as queen was something she rarely voiced. Tonight, though, surrounded by those who truly cared for her, she allowed herself to acknowledge it, if only for a brief moment.
The peaceful evening shattered in an instant. A blood-curdling scream ripped through the night air, its echo lingering like a ghostly wail. Lilithe's heart lurched, and in her shock, she dropped her crystal goblet. It shattered on the marble floor, the sound mingling with the panicked cries now filling the balcony.
All heads snapped toward the source of the commotion, and what they saw was the stuff of nightmares. A noblewoman, once elegantly dressed in fine silks and jewels, was now pinned to the stone wall of the courtyard, a sword grotesquely protruding from her chest. Her throat had been viciously slit, her gown torn, and her once beautiful face marred by bruises that told of a violent struggle. Above her lifeless body, scrawled in dark, glistening blood, were the chilling words: You're next, your highness.
The flickering lights cast the scene in an eerie, macabre glow, heightening the sense of dread that gripped everyone present. A murmur of panic spread through the gathered nobility, their once refined composure crumbling into fear and chaos.
Lilithe's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as the weight of the gruesome sight bore down on her. The taste of wine lingered bitterly on her tongue, now sour with the onset of dread. For a moment, she felt the world tilt, her vision narrowing as the horror threatened to overwhelm her.
But then, Rogue was there. His presence, steady and unyielding, was a lifeline amidst the swirling terror. He reached out, gently but firmly taking her hand, his touch grounding her. His voice, calm and unwavering, cut through the cacophony of fear around them.
"Listen to me, Lilithe," he urged, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that demanded her focus. "Pay attention to me, not to her, but to me. Please."
Lilithe forced herself to nod, though her hands trembled, and her breath came in shallow gasps. She could feel the hot sting of tears threatening to spill, but she swallowed hard, pushing her emotions down, burying them beneath the mantle of the crown. She could not afford to falter—not now, not ever.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, drawing strength from Rogue's calm presence. She cleared her throat, the sound commanding the attention of the panicked courtiers. When she spoke, her voice was steady, though underlined with the iron resolve of a queen.
"You shall all be escorted to your rooms immediately," she declared, her tone brooking no argument. "This murder will be investigated thoroughly, and the assassin will be brought to justice. Uncle," she addressed Duke Cedric, who was already moving to act, "inform the council of this atrocity and gather their verdict on the necessary course of action. Guards will be placed at each of your doors tonight until a solution is determined regarding this heinous act."
Her gaze swept over the assembled nobility, eyes hard as steel. "If any of you have objections, you will answer to your Queen."
A heavy silence followed her words, the only sounds being the quiet sobs of Duchess Seraphina and the frantic whispers of the courtiers. No one dared speak out, their fear of the assassin now mingled with the authoritative command in Lilithe's voice.
Duke Cedric, Lilithe's uncle, turned to Rogue, his expression grim. "Take her back to her rooms. We cannot risk the assassin being nearby."
Rogue nodded sharply, and without a word, he guided Lilithe away from the scene, his hand a comforting anchor at her back. As they walked through the darkened corridors of the palace, the tension was palpable. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every creak of the floorboards a possible sign of danger lurking just out of sight.
Lilithe's mind raced, the image of the murdered noblewoman seared into her memory. The message in blood echoed in her thoughts, its sinister implication clear: she was the target.
"Rogue," Lilithe whispered as they neared her chambers, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "Why go after a courtier and not me?"
Rogue's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered her question, his expression unreadable. "Whoever is behind this is trying to instill fear, to make you feel vulnerable. They're hoping you'll make a mistake."
Lilithe clenched her fists, anger surging within her. "I won't give them the satisfaction," she vowed. "They may have struck fear into the hearts of the court, but I will not cower."
Rogue's gaze softened, a rare hint of admiration in his eyes. "I know you won't. But you don't have to face this alone, Lilithe. We'll find whoever is responsible, and we'll make them pay."
They reached her chambers, the large, ornate doors guarded by two soldiers who immediately stood at attention as they approached. Rogue gestured for them to open the doors, and Lilithe stepped inside, the familiar comfort of her room doing little to ease the turmoil within her.
As the doors closed behind them, shutting out the rest of the world, Lilithe turned to Rogue, her voice wavering slightly. "What if… What if I can't protect them, Rogue? What if more people die because of me?"
Rogue stepped closer, his gaze intense as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You are not responsible for the actions of a coward who hides in the shadows. You are the Queen, Lilithe, and your strength lies in your ability to lead, even in the face of danger."
Lilithe nodded, drawing comfort from his words, though the fear still lingered at the edges of her thoughts. She knew the path ahead would be fraught with danger, but with Rogue by her side, she felt a glimmer of hope—a hope that they could overcome whatever darkness sought to engulf them.
For now, though, she allowed herself a brief moment of vulnerability, letting Rogue's steady presence calm the storm within her. Tomorrow, she would face the court, the council, and the assassin who threatened her reign. But tonight, she will gather her strength.
Captain Mephesto led the anxious courtiers to their designated rooms, where Lucy had already secured the area with advanced runes. A skill that Freed had taught her before the guild disbanded and she had practiced in her months of depression. These runes ensured that no one could enter or leave without permission, offering a sense of security amidst the chaos that had erupted earlier.
But Sting, ever vigilant and determined, refused to leave. He lingered behind, his sharp eyes scanning the scene, intent on uncovering any clues that might lead them to the mastermind behind Lady Morgana of Knightvale's murder. The noblewoman's death was not just a loss; it was an affront, a declaration of war within their very walls.
Lucy, having just finished gathering the staff and servants who had been present during the murder, rejoined him. The sight of Lady Morgana's lifeless body—a woman Lucy had known since childhood—turned her stomach. The once vibrant noblewoman was now cold and motionless, a gruesome reminder of the darkness lurking in their midst.
As Lucy stood frozen, her breath hitching in her throat, she suddenly felt the comforting warmth of Sting's hands on her arms. He gently pulled her into an embrace, shielding her from the horror before them. His scent filled her senses, a mix of earth and the faintest hint of something spicy, grounding her in the present and pushing away the terror that threatened to consume her.
"You didn't have to come back here," Sting murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear.
Lucy shook her head, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "I couldn't just leave you to face this alone."
Sting recalled their late-night conversations, where Lucy had spoken with such passion about her desire to improve herself, to become stronger. He admired her resolve, even as he worried about the toll this situation might take on her. He couldn't bear to see her spiral into the despair that had once nearly consumed her after her Guild disbanded.
"I've checked the area thoroughly," Sting said, his tone tinged with frustration. "I analyzed every scent, every trace, but there's nothing. It's like the killer vanished into thin air."
Lucy frowned, her mind racing. "I questioned all the staff members and cross-referenced their backgrounds. They all checked out, except for one maid who mentioned seeing another woman asking about the noble's rooms."
Sting's frown deepened, his hand instinctively rubbing small circles on Lucy's back. "We need to follow this lead. I have a theory, but I want to gather more information before we jump to conclusions."
"Should we gather the others and share what we know?" Lucy asked, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of urgency.
"Not yet," Sting replied, determination hardening his features. "I want to get a head start on this investigation before the culprit realizes we're onto them. Did the kitchen servant give a name or description?"
Lucy tilted her head back to look at him, her chin resting gently against his chest. "She mentioned a woman named Delphie, with black hair. She's currently in her room."
Sting found himself leaning closer, the distance between them shrinking until their lips were mere centimeters apart. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin, and for a brief moment, he was tempted to close the gap, to give in to the pull that had been growing between them.
"Let's head there now and question her," he said, his voice huskier than usual. "Once we have more information, we can report back to Bastien."
A small, appreciative smile curved Lucy's lips. "Can we stay like this? Just a bit longer?"
Her request was soft, almost hesitant, but it was impossible for Sting to refuse. In that moment, everything felt right, as if the universe had aligned perfectly to bring them together in this small, stolen moment of peace amidst the chaos. Holding her close, Sting felt a sense of completeness, a feeling he hadn't realized he'd been missing until now.
After several moments of shared silence, Lucy pulled away, her expression softened by a gentle smile. "We should go interview the maid," she said, though the reluctance in her voice was clear.
Sting exhaled deeply, watching her as she moved away from him, her graceful steps carrying her toward the door. He couldn't help but groan inwardly at the loss of her warmth, but he smiled nonetheless, grateful for the connection they had just shared.
He followed her out of the maze garden, the area eerily silent and deserted. It struck him as odd, but he reasoned that Captain Mephesto had likely cleared the area, giving them space to investigate without interruption.
As they walked, Sting's thoughts drifted to Lilithe and how Rogue had confessed his feelings for her. A pang of longing struck him, wondering what it would be like to do the same with Lucy, to admit what had been growing in his heart for her. But now wasn't the time. They had a job to do, and he needed to stay focused.