She then turned to face him, eyes darting over the bloodied carnage behind them.
"...Remind me not to anger you," Nova murmured half-serious, half-stunned.
Leon shrugged dryly, dusting off his sleeves. "You’d have to try fairly hard."
Nova looked down at Natasha’s unconscious form, still tied by the shining chains of the slave seal. Her brow furrowed.
"By the way... why did you enslave her?" she demanded, voice low.
Leon stood up from his seat, exhaling as he stared down at the water mage. "If we kill her," he started, tone measured, "her kingdom may attack us back. But if we control her... she may assist us instead. We turn a threat into a tool."
Nova raised an eyebrow, impressed but wary. Her eyes stayed on Natasha for a moment, then moved back to Leon.
He didn’t disagree. "That’s politics."
A moment hung between them, filled with the closeness of choices made in times of need. Then Leon turned away from her, the amusement disappearing from his eyes and being replaced by something more thoughtful.
"Nova," he said softly. "What do you think of the king?"
The question took her aback. "What?"
He didn’t repeat himself—merely gazed at her with that calm intensity that made it difficult to avoid.
Nova paused, folded her arms. "Perhaps he’s a good ruler in some respects. Holds the court together, knows how to present strength... But generally? He seems self-centered. Ambitious for power. So no, I don’t really have a high opinion of him."
Leon slowly nodded, as if he was affirming a suspicion.
She furrowed her brows. "Why do you ask?"
His eyes wandered towards the smashed barrier Natasha had placed earlier. "Because I’ve been thinking... what if the issue isn’t only the enemies outside the walls of the palace—but the one occupying the throne?"
Nova tensed slightly. "Leon..."
He looked at her again, this time very seriously. "What if we replaced him?"
There it was—keen, stark, and unyielding.
Nova blinked. "You mean... rebel against the king?"
Leon’s mouth curled into a thin, treacherous smile.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to her—slowly, consciously—like he was relishing the moment. His golden eyes met hers, and the space between them buzzed with that tense atmosphere that always simmered just beneath the surface.
"Yes?" His tone was deep, smooth. "Do you have an issue with that, my love?"
Nova didn’t blink. Her eyes met his, unbroken, and for an instant, her face was impassive. Then she released a light laugh—deep, playful, not mocking.
"Why would I?" she replied, cocking her head slightly. "I have no problem with your scheme."
Leon raised a brow, obviously amused.
And if you wish to be king," she tossed in with a careless shrug, "well. who am I to prevent it?"
He snorted softly. Naturally she’d say that.
Nova crossed her arms over her chest, but her voice was still playful, taunting. "Besides, if the great Leon chooses to make Moonstone a place that actually develops—for all of us, and not just the silk-clad nobles—then perhaps the kingdom is worthy of a ruler such as yourself."
His smile grew deeper, wordless but wise.
She looked at him sideways. "You’re powerful. Intelligent, when you choose to be. Arrogant enough to think that you can actually be king and repair a fractured kingdom. And..." she hesitated for a moment, and then finished off bluntly, "you’re also good-looking. And not completely useless. So, why not?"
That made him laugh, a rich, amused sound that seemed to ease the weight in the air. "Wow," he said, hand resting lightly on his belt. "You’re overflowing with praise tonight. ’Not entirely useless’—I’ll take that as a compliment."
Nova’s lips twitched, but she didn’t immediately respond. Her arms stayed crossed, but something in her expression shifted—softened.
Leon observed her silently, sensing it. His voice lowered slightly, inquiring. "You know... I was wondering why you did not resist more." he stated, softer now. "I thought you’d be more. resistant."
Nova’s head turned away for a moment, jaw clenched. Then she took a deep breath and nodded. "I was going to. I wanted to."
Her face didn’t change, but her voice dropped, softer. "But I don’t care about that throne. And I certainly don’t care about the man sitting it. Not after what past!"
Leon leaned his head to the side, interested. Her voice was different. A hesitation.
"When my parents were killed," she said, her voice level, but her eyes anything else, "I went to him—the so-called king.
She did not glance at Leon. Her eyes were set somewhere in the distance, deep inside memory.
"I was just a girl," she went on, slowly. "I believed possibly... just possibly, the crown meant something. That it would shield its people. That it would administer justice to the innocent."
She took a breath, firm but tense.
"I stood before him. The king. Aloneness. Desperation. I pleaded for assistance. I begged for it—truth, justice... something that would make it make sense."
Her lips curled but it wasn’t a smile. It was the bitter rim of something gouged long ago. "He said they’d look into it. That justice would be served. That I mattered."
She allowed the silence to fall between them like frost.
And then. nothing," she breathed. "No answers. No justice. Just silence. They buried it all—and told me to bury it with them."
Her fists clenched at her sides.
"So, I stopped waiting. I stopped hoping. I became something else. A blade. A shadow. A warrior. Because if I hadn’t, I would’ve been someone else entirely. Someone weaker. Someone broken.
Leon didn’t say anything. He knew what she told him was true—every word of it. Her tale, her hurt... all of it was not a lie. So, he just stood there, still and quiet, looking at her—not judging, but something more quietly. Understanding.
"That silence taught me everything I needed to know about what that throne safeguards—and what it does not," she went on. "It’s not hated I bear. It’s... that sort of bitterness that settles too deep to spit out anymore. You become accustomed to the taste."
Her arms crossed over her chest, the shift in her stance minute but informative.
"Then now, if the man I..." she paused—just one moment—"love... wants to claim the throne and actually use it for good—for the kingdom, for the people—then why would I stand in his way?"
Leon’s breath caught.
The impact of her words crashed over him like a slow-rising tide. She’d never said anything so openly before. Not merely approval—but faith. And something even more valuable under it.
His chest constricted, and for an instant, he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. He simply stared at her, taking not only in the flame she wore as armor, but the woman that hid beneath it—the one who’d weathered loss, betrayal, silence—and still possessed the energy to hope.
Then, very slowly, a smile spread across his lips once more. Quieter this time. More authentic.
"Damn," he breathed, moving closer to her.
Nova’s brow rose. "Lucky?"
He chuckled, soft and warm. "Yes. I somehow found myself with the most frighteningly rational, stunningly perceptive, unimpressible woman in this whole world."
She rolled her eyes—honest, but the faint flush creeping up her cheeks was a giveaway.
"Careful," she grumbled, "flattery will get you stabbed."
Leon smiled. "Worth it."
She sighed, obviously exasperated. "Gods, you’re insufferable."
"And you love it," Leon answered without pause.
Nova didn’t argue. Instead, she exhaled again—this time with a quiet chuckle. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. Her gaze softened as it lingered on him. "I forget sometimes... you’re a damn flirt."
Leon smirked, giving her a sideways glance. "I’ll take that as a compliment, my love."
Nova shook her head, lips curving. Then her gaze drifted to Natasha’s unconscious body lying still on the cracked stone floor.
The atmosphere grew heavier once more. Nova’s tone fell, low and reserved. "So. what do we do with her now?"