Making Out With the Enemy
0
Naruto x Charmcaster
0
Story Start
0
Charmcaster stood amidst the rubble of the partially constructed building, her lips still tingling from that shocking kiss. Adrenaline pulsed through her body in rhythmic waves, mixing with the heat pooling in her core. She loathed the tumult of emotions swirling inside her: frustration at losing the talisman, anger at being outmaneuvered, and a maddening, undeniable spark of attraction.
The swirl of leaves that heralded his departure had long since faded into the humid evening air, leaving her standing alone with her thoughts. Debris was scattered all around—broken beams, overturned buckets, and concrete dust drifting in the faint breeze. With a string of curses, she tried to refocus on her immediate priorities.
She'd lost the artifact. That was the biggest issue. Her mission—to gather the necessary relics to restore her realm—had just been set back by weeks, if not months. Worse, the culprit behind that setback was the same aggravating blond who'd stolen a kiss from her not two minutes prior. It didn't matter that a traitorous part of her wanted to stay in that heated moment a little longer. She had come to this city with a job to do, and she wasn't going to let some flirty, fast-talking plumber-wannabe stand in her way, no matter how interesting he might be.
Yet here she was, hands on her hips, staring down at the emptiness of her gray bag, bitter annoyance welling up in her.
"I'm going to fry him alive," she muttered. She felt her cheeks still warm from the memory. "After he takes me out to dinner, that is," she added under her breath in a moment of exasperated honesty.
With that, she gathered herself up, brushed the concrete dust off her lilac-colored jacket, and conjured a swirl of mana around her feet to give herself a boost up and away from the site. She needed to regroup. There was no sense in sticking around and risking unwanted attention from any hero types who might pop up to investigate a construction yard full of charred girders and shattered scaffolding.
Her white aura shimmered softly as she floated from the top of a half-finished column to the city street below. By now, the evening sky glowed with darkening purples and oranges, the final vestiges of daylight giving way to the hush of night. A quick spark of magic disguised her appearance just enough that no one would look twice at her as she navigated the city's sidewalks—hair color concealed beneath a glimmering illusion, the design of her clothes shifted to something more mundane. Another layer of illusions masked the leftover scorch marks on her arms and the slight tear across the lapel of her jacket.
She walked briskly, trying not to draw attention but also keen to get back to her improvised sanctum quickly. Over the past few weeks, she had set up shop in a small, abandoned workshop on the outskirts of the city's industrial district. It was far enough from prying eyes yet close enough to civilization to let her keep tabs on any rumor or movement of magical relics or Plumber technology.
Charmcaster's mind roiled with questions. Even with all she knew of local heroes, the Plumbers, and the occasional cosmic or magical threat that came and went, there was something else about this blond adversary. A swirling leaf teleportation technique? That wasn't standard Plumber gear. And what was that swirling pattern on his shield device? She found her curiosity piqued. Clearly, he was no ordinary human, alien, or magic-user. But she had bigger fish to fry—like how to retrieve the stolen talisman.
As she approached the abandoned workshop, she felt her magical wards still in place, the faint hum of energy that she'd laid over the building's perimeter. No one had come snooping while she was gone. With a quiet breath of relief, she stepped inside.
Metal shelving units lined the walls. Tools, both mundane and arcane, scattered the tables. A large battered trunk stuffed with lesser magical components sat propped in a corner. At the center of the room stood a heavy wooden workbench that had become her improvised altar for spellcraft. Several battered tomes in various states of decay lay open across its surface. Their pages brimmed with esoteric symbols and incantations for summoning, transformation, and illusions. This was how she spent most of her time now: half her attention on reacquiring relics for her realm, and the other half deep in the texts that might yield a clue on how to permanently restore her homeland to its former power.
Charmcaster reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. The residual heat on her lips lingered in her mind. She tried to shove that thought aside, focusing on more pressing matters. She paced toward a battered mirror that she'd propped up near the bench. The reflection that greeted her was a bit of a mess: illusions dropping away now, a faint bruise forming above her left brow, dust and grit in her hair, and a couple of scuffs and tears across her clothes.
"This is what happens when you let yourself get distracted," she scolded her reflection. But behind the reproach in her orchid eyes, something else simmered.
She refused to dwell on it. Instead, she dropped her bag on the workbench and rifled through it, confirming her fear: The talisman was gone. The bag's contents were otherwise scattered—mana crystals, some chalk, a small vile of ground root used for advanced illusions, and a quill crafted from a mythical avian wing. Everything else was accounted for except the single thing that mattered most.
Charmcaster's lip curled in fury. "He has no idea what kind of trouble he's waded into," she muttered. "I'll make him regret crossing me."
But her anger was tinged by the memory of warmth, lips pressing to hers, a playful grin, a hand wandering down her back. She slammed her hand on the workbench, the jolt bringing her back to reality. There was no time for that.
She tapped her fingertips on the old wood, brainstorming. If she was going to get that relic back, she'd have to figure out where he'd take it—and how soon. Was he working for someone else? The Plumbers? Possibly. Or maybe he had his own agenda. One way or another, there was a limited pool of places in this city to stow something that powerful. If he was with the Plumbers, they'd store it in some high-security facility or a hidden vault. If he was an independent agent, he might try to decode it, harness its power for himself, or perhaps sell it to the highest bidder.
It was going to be a long night of recon.
As night fell in earnest, the city's bright neon lights glowed across the skyline. Charmcaster perched quietly on the edge of a building's rooftop downtown, scoping out one of the rumored safehouses used by local heroes and Plumber affiliates. She hoped to catch wind of the blond. She hoped, too, that focusing on the mission would finally hush the annoying buzz of memory replaying that stolen kiss.
The rooftop vantage point allowed her to watch the unremarkable two-story building from across the street. She'd heard rumors about a hidden basement that served as a mid-level Plumber station, used for storing confiscated tech or magical items until they could be transferred to a secure facility. If he was working with them, then the talisman would likely end up here—at least temporarily.
Hours slipped by in silent vigil. She flicked her wrist occasionally to maintain a small illusions sphere around herself, shielding her from the casual observer. The city hummed with nightlife, but this building seemed quiet. Only a few times did someone enter or exit through the side door. Two were obviously Plumber agents in civilian attire, though their stiff demeanors and faintly glowing ID badges gave them away to Charmcaster's keen eye. They stayed inside for about an hour, and when they left, they seemed empty-handed and unhurried.
No sign of him.
Eventually, faint beads of sweat formed on Charmcaster's brow. It wasn't simply the lingering summer heat—her mana reserves were draining, inch by inch, from holding a shield for so long. With a tight sigh, she decided this wasn't the place. Letting the illusions dissolve, she quietly descended the fire escape. She'd just have to check another lead.
She headed back into the city's nightlife, slipping among crowds of partygoers, ignoring the pulse of music from nearby clubs, weaving through alleyways, and following her instincts to the next rumored site. The second location was an abandoned train depot rumored to be used by black-market dealers who sometimes traded in advanced or mystical artifacts. Perfect for an unscrupulous opportunist.
She found a vantage point up on a stack of old shipping crates. The wide, open space was illuminated only by the flickering overhead lights near the loading docks. A handful of shady figures drifted in and out, exchanging suspicious packages. But she was looking for a blond with a devilish grin and a swirl-of-leaves teleportation technique. None of these petty criminals fit that description.
This was becoming a frustrating goose chase—and she hated goose chases.
Eventually, the overhead lights flickered off with a resounding clang of a circuit breaker. It was near midnight. Charmcaster decided she'd gleaned all she could from this spot.
With a muttered curse, she headed back to the neon-lit streets.
She refused to call it quits, though the hour was getting late. Anger, disappointment, and no small amount of embarrassment fueled her determination. She would find him tonight. She wanted that talisman back in her hands before sunrise.
At last, she found herself turning onto the street that led to a quieter edge of the city. Here, the crowds were sparse, mostly random passersby returning home, or the occasional worker on a night shift. Buildings stood tall and unimpressive, many with "For Rent" signs, shutters, or dim lights in second-story apartments.
She paused mid-step. Her heart skipped a beat; a swirl of leaves drifted across the sidewalk in front of her, though the air was still. She instantly recognized that phenomenon. There was no wind to rustle leaves at this hour—especially not in a swirling pattern.
Carefully, she pressed herself against the nearest building, scanning her surroundings. The swirling leaves began to pick up near a narrow alley just two blocks down. Charmcaster's senses flared. Her mana buzzed at her fingertips. She knew this was him. Could he sense her presence as well?
She strode swiftly but quietly, approaching the alley from the side. If luck was on her side, she could ambush him—repay him for that humiliating fiasco at the construction site. The memory of his lips, so bold against hers, caused her stomach to flutter again. She clenched her jaw, suppressing the feeling.
Slipping into the alley, she let her mana gather in her palms as she formed a faint orb of white light. She advanced, step by cautious step. Broken crates and piles of trash lined the alley. A flickering streetlamp barely illuminated the scene. Water dripped from a rusted pipe overhead.
She saw him. He stood in the middle of the alley, leaning casually against a concrete wall. He had one hand in his pocket, the other fiddling with what looked like the talisman—her talisman! The streetlamp's glow revealed blonde hair, his strong jaw, that confident, almost roguish grin. He seemed completely relaxed, and didn't bother to hide that he knew she was coming.
"Look who finally caught up," he said, voice echoing softly. His gaze traveled lazily over her, as though he owned the space they inhabited.
She pressed her lips together, ignoring the quickening pulse in her chest. "You have something of mine," she said evenly. "And you're going to return it."
He glanced down at the artifact in his hand. It was a circular talisman about the size of a sand dollar, etched with swirling runes and inlaid with faint silver filaments. "I assume you mean this," he teased. "Any reason you want it back so badly? Does it do something special? Because I tried fiddling with it, but it's locked up tighter than a bank vault."
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "I don't owe you an explanation." The white mana that danced around her fingertips crackled with suppressed energy. "Hand it over now, or I'll fry you where you stand."
He let out a low chuckle, hooking the talisman onto his belt. His other hand came up in a defensive gesture, but there was amusement in his eyes. "I don't think so. Not just yet."
She hurled a bolt of mana. This time, there was no hesitation. The crackling beam shot straight at him, sizzling through the air. But instead of erecting the Plumber shield, he vanished in a swirl of leaves, reappearing behind her in a blink.
She whirled, conjuring a second bolt. He was ready, quickly raising that hexagonal shield device strapped to his forearm. Her mana impacted the shimmering barrier, ricocheting off into the night sky. Sparks illuminated the alley, casting chaotic shadows across the walls.
"Not bad," he said casually, stepping forward to press the advantage. She let another wave of mana gather, preparing a binding spell that would wrap him in glowing ropes. Yet he flickered again in that swirling pattern. In the single heartbeat before she could fully release the spell, he was behind her, capturing her wrists in his grip.
Before she could mouth her incantation, his lips brushed her ear. "You can do better than that, Charms."
Her heart hammered in her chest. Stupid, arrogant— She slammed her head backward, aiming for his face. He narrowly dodged, but the momentary distraction allowed her to break free. She spun with a roundhouse kick that forced him to hop back. Then she whipped her hands up, crying out a quick incantation. A luminous lasso of mana snaked from her fingertips, wrapping around his left wrist.
He tried to swirl-teleport away, but her tether glowed fiercely, anchoring him in place. He grunted, struggling against it, but with a sharp tug, she pulled him off balance.
"Got you now," she hissed, words laced with triumph.
For a moment, tension hung in the air. The alley's gloom swallowed them both, just the steady flicker of the half-broken lamp overhead. He tried to raise the shield device with his free arm, but she summoned a second strand of mana. It coiled around his other wrist. She yanked both tethers tight, binding him so he couldn't vanish again.
"Well, this is a new position," he teased, voice low. "I like it."
Charmcaster rolled her eyes, though her heart pounded. The swirling desire from earlier threatened to surface, memories of that too-brief kiss fueling a strange ache she didn't want to acknowledge. But she set her jaw. She was in control now. She'd subdue him, claim her artifact, and be on her way.
"Stop talking," she commanded. "Where's the talisman?"
He tilted his hips slightly, drawing her gaze. "Right here," he said, nodding to his belt.
Careful not to loosen the mana tethers, she reached out with her free hand, her palm tingling from the raw energy she still held. She'd nearly closed her fingers around the talisman when an unearthly roar shook the alley walls.
They both jerked their attention to the source: the far end of the alley, where swirling purple energy started to coalesce. A jagged tear in the fabric of reality flickered into existence. At first, it was no bigger than a soccer ball, but it rapidly expanded, cracking open to reveal an ominous, swirling void.
"What the—?" Charmcaster breathed, eyes wide.
Their scuffle must have attracted the attention of some other entity or creature that could sense mana. Or, she realized grimly, her tethering spell had interacted with the unique energy signature of his swirling leaves technique, inadvertently tearing a hole in the dimensional fabric. If that was the case, they'd have more than a stolen artifact to worry about.
A clawed hand emerged from the rift—dark purple flesh with ragged black nails. Then another hand followed, gripping the edges of the tear and forcing it open. A monstrous figure, easily eight feet tall, crawled through the portal. Its crimson eyes glowed with a malevolent hunger, and a deep snarl rattled in its throat.
For a split second, both Charmcaster and the blond man froze. The monstrous creature fully emerged, towering in the alleyway, shoulders so broad they scraped the brick walls on either side. Then its eyes locked onto the two of them.
"What did you do?" the blond demanded, eyes darting between the portal and the creature.
She scowled. "How should I know? This wasn't part of my plan."
With a deafening roar, the beast lunged forward. Its claws swiped at them in a brutal arc. Charmcaster had no choice but to release the mana tethers if she wanted to dodge in time. The blond did the same with his swirling shield, raising it just in time to block the next strike. Sparks erupted against the shield's surface as claw met energy field.
Charmcaster rolled to the side, quickly conjuring a bolt of concentrated mana. She flung it at the creature's exposed flank, but its thick hide seemed to absorb most of the impact. It staggered slightly but rounded on her with a snarl.
She felt movement behind her; the blond was shifting stances, stepping closer to her so they wouldn't get flanked. He lifted his shield device again, deflecting another wild swing from the beast's claws. The tension between them was momentarily replaced by a reluctant camaraderie—they had a bigger problem on their hands.
"Suggestions?" he hissed through gritted teeth as the beast prepared to lunge again.
She didn't bother with an I-told-you-so. "Try to keep it busy. I'll see if I can close the portal. We can't let more of these things pour through."
She conjured swirling threads of mana to begin weaving a sealing spell. Her knowledge of interdimensional rifts was limited, but hopefully she could do a patch job if she manipulated the residual energies that had formed the tear in the first place. But the beast wasn't going to give her time to calmly cast.
The monstrous creature roared and flung itself forward, focusing on Charmcaster. The blond dashed in front, shield flaring as he blocked. She spared a glance his way—there was something mesmerizing about his confidence in combat, how quickly he shifted stances, how seamlessly he integrated that swirling teleportation. Leaves would swirl; he'd vanish from one spot, reappear in another behind the creature, and land a punishing strike with a glowing fist or a quick slash of energy.
Despite their combined efforts, the creature was incredibly resilient. Each time it was knocked back, it got up again. Its hide rippled with some unnatural power—likely from the dimension it crawled out of.
Nevertheless, the blond's assault created a big enough distraction for Charmcaster to gather magic in her palms, the white glow intensifying around her. Summoning every ounce of focus, she chanted words that rattled off her tongue with crisp precision. Ghostly runes began to form around the edges of the portal. She was forging a net of energy, weaving it with the remnants of the dimensional tear that still hung in the air.
The swirling vacuum behind the creature hissed, unstable. The beast seemed to sense its exit route was threatened. It let out a bellow of fury and lurched in Charmcaster's direction with terrifying speed.
Her concentration threatened to shatter as she saw the monstrous claw nearly upon her. Fear spiked in her chest. She braced herself. But in a blur, the blond teleported to her side. With a powerful swing of his shielded arm, he knocked the creature's blow off course. The momentum still sent them both crashing to the ground, but it wasn't a direct hit.
Charmcaster's shoulder hit the pavement hard, a jolt of pain shooting down her side. She fought to keep her mind on the spell. She could feel the rift flickering, edges collapsing. If she lost her focus now, the portal might implode with them all inside the alley—or remain wide open for more horrors to emerge. Neither was acceptable.
Gritting her teeth, she half-whispered, half-shouted the final syllables of the incantation, arms outstretched. The runes flared to life in a bright white flash. Bands of shimmering energy manifested, swirling up around the tear, sealing it inch by inch. The creature howled in raw fury as it was slowly cut off from its dimension.
It lashed out again, but the blond was already on his feet, forcibly shoving it back. Charmcaster poured the last of her mana reserves into a concentrated assault, sending a volley of blinding white blasts into the beast's chest. The combined force of the shield bashes and her mana barrage finally staggered the monster. It stumbled backward, giving her the chance to weave a binding circle at its feet.
"Banma calistar reverto!" she roared, voice echoing off the alley's walls. Another bright aura flared beneath the monster. The runic circle glowed. Thick chains of shimmering magic burst from the ground, wrapping around the beast's torso and limbs, locking it in place.
Now, with a final snarl, the rift fully collapsed, sealing with a loud snap and a flash of pale light. The creature gave a guttural roar that shook the ground underfoot, thrashing mightily against the chains. But the combined illusions and spells held fast.
Panting, Charmcaster climbed to her feet. She felt the dull ache in her shoulder, in her knees. She was exhausted, her mana dangerously low. The blond, too, was breathing heavily, scratches marking his arms and a few shallow cuts on his cheek.
They locked eyes across the chaos, the creature bellowing between them, slowly weakening. With the threat partially contained, she realized they were once more at an impasse—both drained from the fight, the stolen talisman presumably still at his belt.
Ever the opportunist, the blond smirked. "Not bad. Maybe we do make a good team."
She sneered. "We're not a team." Despite the weariness in her voice, she let a new surge of mana crackle at her fingertips. "And that's still mine."
He shrugged. "Well, you did save my hide back there. I owe you for that."
Her eyes flickered, suspicious. "So, what are you saying?"
He unclipped the talisman from his belt, tossing it lightly in his hand. "I'm saying maybe there's a way for both of us to get what we want."
She scoffed, though she couldn't deny curiosity. "Let me guess: that means I do all the work, you take the credit, and—"
"Not exactly," he cut her off. "I was going to suggest a trade. Dinner." He waggled his eyebrows, impossibly casual despite the monstrous creature thrashing a few feet away in magical chains. "I give this back…" He tossed the talisman into the air, caught it, grinning. "But you agree to have dinner with me. A real one. No illusions, no city-leveling battles. Just you, me, and some decent takeout."
She felt her pulse throb in her temples. He was bargaining for a date? The sheer audacity made her want to lash out. But at the same time, her mind replayed everything that had happened: the kiss, the fleeting moment of quiet tenderness that had made her heart flutter. For someone who flitted through battles like a living hurricane, he seemed oddly sincere when he said it.
Her pride warred with practicality. She needed that artifact. She didn't have time for trifling social games… and yet she couldn't deny she was intrigued. He had saved her life, or at least spared her from a vicious blow. And he'd proven he could fight side by side with her as an equal. That alone was fascinating.
"Fine," she spat, surprising herself. "But no funny business. Hand over the relic, and I'll consider your ridiculous request."
The blond's grin widened into something more genuine, though still laced with that trademark mischief. "Deal."
He set the talisman gently on a nearby crate and stepped away. She narrowed her eyes, but approached carefully, scooping up the artifact. Relief washed through her. She felt the faint pulse of power it held. Her heart felt lighter, as if a piece of her puzzle was back in place.
A furious roar brought them both spinning around. The monstrous creature had only grown more determined to break free, thrashing in a final surge of desperate energy. The magical chains crackled, dangerously close to snapping. Charmcaster winced. She had very little mana left. If it broke free now—
"Let's finish this," the blond said grimly.
She nodded. They moved in tandem. With a swift swirl of leaves, he vanished, reappearing at the beast's back. He raised his shield high, an energy spike forming at its center. Charmcaster, meanwhile, gathered the dregs of her strength, chanting under her breath, forming a lance of brilliant white mana.
In the same beat, they attacked from opposite sides—his shield unleashing a burst of swirling force, her lance slicing through the air. The combined attack slammed into the beast's center mass. It howled, the sound reverberating like thunder. The layered blow overwhelmed the creature's hide, penetrating it with arcane and cosmic energy.
Finally, with a tortured snarl, it collapsed to its knees. The chains tightened in response, draining what remained of its strength. Then, as the final seal took hold, the beast's body glowed faintly with an otherworldly shimmer—until it crumbled into dust-like fragments, drifting away in the breeze.
Charmcaster released a shaky breath. The alley quieted once more. The swirling rift was gone. The creature was destroyed. Her talisman was back in her possession. And yet…
She turned to face him. They were both winded, battered by the ordeal, standing in the dim half-light. Slowly, he lowered his shield device. A subtle beep indicated its energy levels were just as low as her own mana.
"We should probably get out of here before more trouble shows up," he said, stepping closer. "Plumbers will be all over this place soon."
She brushed a stray lock of silver hair from her eyes, scanning the alley. Her illusions were down; her reserves were nearly empty. "Right," she said simply.
They made their way out of the alley, stepping into the broader street. Distant sirens wailed somewhere. The city lights danced around them, neon reflecting off puddles in the gutter.
An odd tension still hung in the air: not hostile, but not quite comfortable either. He glanced at her, a boyish smile tugging at his lips. "So… about that dinner."
She rolled her eyes, though a flicker of anticipation made her pulse quicken. "Don't push your luck. I already said I'd consider it."
He chuckled. "Sure, sure. But you'll come around, Charms. I'm confident."
She clenched the talisman protectively. This was absurd. She was going to vanish the moment he let his guard down—she shouldn't linger for small talk. And yet something compelled her not to simply disappear. Maybe it was the memory of how he'd protected her from that blow, or how they'd flawlessly teamed up against the monster. Or maybe she was just too tired to vanish.
"All right," she said quietly. "I will. On one condition—you tell me exactly how you got that swirling leaves technique. And if there are more relics out there I need, you're going to hand them over."
He laughed softly, looking more amused than offended. "I'll tell you all about it. And who knows, maybe I can even help with your… quest? You clearly need these relics for something. You could use an extra set of hands."
She bristled. "I don't need any help. I work alone."
"Didn't look that way just now," he remarked, gesturing over his shoulder to the alley. She was about to retort, but he held up his hands disarmingly. "Look, I'm just saying. Maybe you'll find it's not so bad having someone watch your back. Especially if you're going to be messing with interdimensional tears."
Her lips curved into a small frown. She hated how a corner of her mind whispered that he might be right. With the stakes so high—her homeland's fate, potential new threats—maybe a temporary ally was better than no ally at all.
"Fine," she said after a long moment. "We'll talk. Later. I still have business to take care of."
His grin turned lopsided, an undeniable spark in his blue eyes. "Looking forward to it, Charms."
A surge of embarrassment and something suspiciously close to delight jolted her. She quickly turned away, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. Her illusions sparked, just enough to cloak herself from the casual eye.
Yet before she fully disappeared, she cast him a final glance over her shoulder, gaze lingering on that roguish half-smile. "Don't get any ideas."
He chuckled. "Too late."
With that, she slipped into the city's shadows, hugging the talisman to her side. She found the hum of satisfaction warring with the hum of confusion. The knowledge that she'd gotten what she came for should have filled her with triumphant glee. Instead, her stomach felt alive with a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and a strange fluttering that she refused to call excitement.
The night pressed on, the sirens in the distance drawing closer as emergency responders no doubt rushed to the site of their destructive battle. Charmcaster used what remained of her mana to quietly scale a nearby building, bounding from ledge to ledge until she reached a rooftop with a decent vantage. There, in the hush of darkness, she looked down.
Sure enough, the blond was still there, pacing lightly at the edge of the sidewalk, scanning for her. After a moment, perhaps sensing the futility of that search, he turned and melted into the throng of city lights.
She stared for a moment longer, then turned her gaze to the talisman in her hand. The engraved runes still glowed faintly, though not nearly as intensely as before. It had been forcibly disrupted. She'd need to re-attune it for her purposes. That would take hours of ritual, but it didn't matter—she had it back.
Her mission to restore her realm was still paramount. But as she closed her fist around the talisman, she found her thoughts straying back to a certain cocky, blue-eyed fighter. He'd bested her, stolen from her, then saved her life and asked her on a date in the span of one day. No one had ever tangled her emotions in such knots before.
"Next time," she whispered into the warm night air, "I'm calling the shots."
Still, some small, guarded part of her was curious about what might happen when she next encountered that swirl of leaves.
With a final sigh, she stepped away from the roof's edge and disappeared into the city's skyline, the talisman safe in her possession, her future course uncertain—except for the undeniable fact that the next time their paths crossed, sparks would fly once again. And whether that would lead to triumph, disaster, or something far more complicated remained to be seen.
For now, Charmcaster allowed herself a rare, tiny smile in the darkness. Because for the first time in a very long while, she felt something more than anger and ambition—something dangerously close to anticipation. And perhaps, when the time was right, she wouldn't mind letting that blond fool keep his promise…
…after he took her out to dinner, of course.