Tall and serious, dressed in his armor but with his helm still off, Elias was walking toward her, his expression softening when he recognized her. Relief flooded through Riven as he approached, and she felt the last bit of tension drain from her shoulders. Amid the chaotic din of the tournament grounds, Elias’s steady gaze was a grounding force, pulling her back from the surreal encounter she’d just had. As he drew closer, the hum of anticipation in the air faded into a gentle warmth, one that Riven couldn’t ignore. Her hand drifted back to the pocket where the second pin waited, her fingers brushing over its smooth edges.

“Who was that?” Elias asked plainly, his eyes following where Calia had walked off and Riven quickly shook her head, not wanting to linger on her interaction with the princess. She always found Elias hard to lie to and it wouldn’t go over well for them to talk about the princess with so many people around.

"No one of consequence," she replied lightly, hoping he’d let it drop. Riven’s fingers tightened slightly around the pin in her pocket, as if the token she’d made for him could ward off the strange mixture of nerves and exhilaration lingering from her encounter with Calia. Elias studied her for a moment longer, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, but he seemed to understand her unspoken reluctance and nodded.

“Why are you here? I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about your sponsorship,” he said, his words tempered with genuine curiosity and a touch of concern. Riven bit her lip, feeling the faint thrill of having successfully come this far without being discovered, but her reasons for coming here felt suddenly fragile under Elias’s quiet scrutiny. She had worked so hard, even daring to attend the tournament in person, but now she could only focus on the steady gaze Elias held, his concern more disarming than she wanted to admit.

“I need to give you something,” Riven whispered, noting that Elias indeed did not have a pin. Elias nodded, motioning for her to follow him as they moved a little farther from the bustling crowd, into the relative quiet of a shaded alcove along the edge of the tournament grounds. The hum of voices and clatter of armor faded, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves above and the muted cheer from nearby stands. For a moment, Riven could almost forget the thrill and chaos of the tournament, as if they’d found a sliver of peace in the midst of it all.

“Well?” Elias asked patiently, his steady gaze softened with an unspoken patience that made Riven’s heart beat just a bit faster. She took a breath to steady herself, withdrawing the pin from her pocket and holding it out toward him with careful fingers.

“It’s for you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The pin glinted faintly in the dappled sunlight, its carefully crafted design both elegant and understated. “You… you still need a pin for good luck.”

Silence filled the space between them, for a moment, Riven worried she’d overstepped. But Elias’s expression softened further as he looked at the pin in her hand, his dark eyes flicking from the delicate design to her face with a quiet, unreadable intensity.

He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the pin, and the warmth of that brief touch sent a strange thrill up her arm. Elias’s gaze lingered on the pin’s design, and Riven felt a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability bubbling up within her. She had chosen every detail carefully—a subtle reference to Myelia that could pass as an abstract star to anyone unknowing. After all, the overt pin she had given to Calia would be the center of attention, since “Mikael” would be the only knight with two pins.

“This must have taken you ages,” he said, a hint of admiration in his tone as he traced the delicate edges with his thumb. “I didn’t think you’d want to make something like this, even for the tournament.”

Riven felt her face grow warm, her cheeks tingling under Elias’s steady gaze. She had spent hours stitching and shaping, choosing each detail carefully. She hadn’t imagined it would feel this… personal, handing him the pin now, watching as he held it like something precious.

“Well, I didn’t want you to be the only knight out there without one,” she replied, her voice softer than she’d meant. “Even if it’s just luck, it’s still tradition.”

Elias’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles as he looked back up, his grey eyes soft and warm. He pinned it to his shoulder, the small emblem catching in the low sunlight as if sealing her wish for his safety into the fabric. There was a careful reverence in his movements, almost as though he were handling something fragile. Riven’s heart stilled at the sight, a quiet pride settling in her chest.

“Thank you,” he said, his gaze lingering on hers as if he were searching for something hidden just beneath her expression. Riven felt a gentle warmth spread through her, their quiet corner feeling somehow intimate despite the distant roar of the crowd. She couldn’t help as her thoughts turned to what Yvette had said; if she did manage to survive, perhaps a simple life as a knight’s wife wouldn’t be so terrible.

A gentle warmth on her cheek caught Riven’s attention, and she blinked as she realized Elias’s hand had come up, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her face. His touch was so light, so careful, that it sent a ripple of warmth through her. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, an intensity she hadn’t seen before, and she found herself holding her breath, the noise of the crowd fading entirely into the background.

“Riven,” Elias’s fingers lingered, his voice quiet, yet filled with a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been aching to hear. Her name seemed to carry a different weight when he spoke it—soft, as though savoring each syllable, yet holding a quiet certainty that made her heart race.

“Yes?” she replied, almost breathlessly, her gaze meeting his. For a moment, Riven forgot she had ever been Shin Lee, that she had ever lived this story once before; she truly felt nineteen again, filled with the first flutterings of a soft crush. Elias’s gaze flickered over her face, as if he were memorizing each detail, before he finally drew his hand back, though his expression remained warm.

“I know you’re here to help,” he murmured, his voice dipping just above a whisper, “but don’t put yourself at risk for my sake. Based on what we heard, her Majesty is here today, and I won’t be at your side to protect you.”

Riven’s chest tightened at hearing the concern in his voice, a gentle reminder of the risk she was truly taking. Yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it—not when Elias’s gaze held hers with such quiet intensity, nor when he was standing here, wearing her pin as if it were a precious heirloom instead of a hastily stitched token.

“I know the risks,” she murmured, finding her voice steadier than she’d expected. “And there’s not a cloud in the sky today, so I can get myself out if I need to.”

A faint laugh escaped Elias, his usual reserved expression softening into something warm, almost fond. “Still, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” Riven nodded, her smile mirroring the warmth in Elias’s gaze.

“Promise.”

***

Elias’s gaze lingered as Riven disappeared back into the crowd, making her way to find a safe place to watch the matches. His hand absently traced the pin she had given him, his fingers brushing over the delicate stitching, each curve and line telling him more about Riven than words ever could. It was meticulous, intentional, and undeniably hers. Elias had never imagined that she’d take such a risk for him… or that the risk itself would leave him feeling the thrill of gratitude mingling with a quiet, unguarded warmth he could hardly explain.

He reached in his pocket and without a second thought, tossed his sister’s pin to the ground. He had never intended to wear it to begin with, but even holding onto it now felt like an insult to Riven. He had heard her discontentment for his family at Eirlys’s last tea party and it only reinforced his own decision to sever ties with them. It was now obvious that she had no idea who he was, and if their plan worked, she’d never have to. He had no intention of marrying her, and he was more willing to push back on his father’s efforts to force the bond.

He moved toward the staging area, sliding his helmet on with practiced efficiency. Nearby, other knights were preparing, exchanging their own tokens and symbols of good luck, but the weight of Riven’s gesture anchored him, keeping his focus razor-sharp. For perhaps the first time, he felt a surge of hope that was entirely his own, untainted by expectations from the Marquess or Kaelen. He couldn’t yet fully name the feeling Riven stirred in him, but he knew it was as unique as the symbol she’d sewn just for him.
***