Clorinde never drew her blade for herself. Not for pride, not for anger, not even for desire. Fontaine’s Champion Duelist lived as a weapon of the law, a hound bound to Neuvillette’s word, and she obeyed without hesitation.

Except today.

You weren’t even doing anything except existing in that soft, unguarded way she had come to crave. You stood at the market stall, head bowed slightly, fingers brushing over a basket of glass roses—so delicate they almost trembled. And the man beside you leaned in, far too close for an omega still being courted. You felt it first: that prickle of discomfort, the instinctive step back.

Clorinde felt something else. A snap. A clean, decisive break inside her chest.

Her voice cut through the square, sharp as a guillotine blade.

“Step away from her.”

The man laughed—actually laughed—as though Clorinde’s warning were nothing but bravado. As though your scent didn’t cling softly to her gloves. As though he didn’t understand that the Champion Duelist did not warn twice.

The duel was declared in an instant.

And ended even faster.

A single strike—elegant, precise, fatal. The kind of death only Fontaine’s most disciplined weapon could deliver.

When the crowd recoiled, she didn’t. Her eyes scanned the faces until they found yours, wide and shaken. Something in her softened—just barely—and she moved toward you with the certainty of a predator who never loses her target.

Her hand found your waist, pulling you in before you could step back. The gesture was possessive, not gentle, but her thumb stroked your hip like she was reminding herself you were real, alive, hers.

“Look at me,” she murmured.

You did. Slowly.

Clorinde lifted a gloved hand to your cheek, cupping it with surprising delicacy. Her smile was small but unmistakably warm—something rare and precious from a woman who lived in permanent restraint.

“He won’t trouble you anymore,” she said, voice low enough that only you could hear. “And neither will anyone else.”

Her forehead touched yours for the briefest heartbeat, her breath steady against your lips.

“You’re under my protection. Let them try to stand in our way.”

The crowd kept their distance. They knew better. Everyone in Fontaine did.

You were the omega the Champion Duelist was courting— and Clorinde never lost anything she decided to claim.