The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis lay still, staring at the ceiling as the faint silver glow of the moon painted soft lines across the wooden beams above. Sleep eluded him again, as it often did after the whirlwind of emotions and passions that came with nights like these. He turned his head, his gaze falling on Lira, who was fast asleep beside him. Her long black ponytail spilled over the pillow, her chest rising and falling with a peaceful rhythm that contrasted sharply with her usual sharp wit and composed demeanor.

He couldn't help but let a small smile tug at his lips. Her face, so often framed by an air of sarcastic elegance and calm poise, now seemed softened in sleep. The moonlight illuminated her delicate features, accentuating the gentle curve of her cheekbones and the faint blush of her lips, slightly parted as she breathed steadily. Her lashes, long and dark, rested against her skin, casting faint shadows that seemed almost unreal in their perfection.

Mikhailis reached out instinctively, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. The silky texture of her hair slipped through his fingers, and her skin, smooth and warm beneath his touch, exuded a serene warmth that made him linger a moment longer than he intended. The way her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm seemed to draw him into the quiet tranquility of the moment, a stark contrast to the sharp wit and composed demeanor she displayed when awake. Every detail of her relaxed state—from the slight curl of her lips to the subtle flush across her cheeks—etched itself into his mind, making it impossible to look away. He marveled at how someone so strong and unyielding in her daily life could appear so utterly vulnerable and captivating in sleep.

It's strange how she can look so calm after everything we've been through. After everything we've done. His fingers lingered, and a flicker of guilt tugged at the edges of his thoughts. Not for the act itself but for how much he had come to cherish moments like these.

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple and murmured, "Okay, done. No more staring."

<Satisfied with peeping yet, Mikhailis?>

Rodion's voice cut through the quiet, dripping with sarcastic amusement. Mikhailis's fingers froze mid-movement, and his eyes narrowed.

Of course, he'd pick now to chime in.

"Shut up, Rodion," he muttered, careful not to wake Lira as he shifted out of bed. The AI's smug silence that followed was almost louder than its words.

He reached for his coat, pulling it on with deliberate slowness, the fabric whispering against his skin as he moved. Each motion was precise, the quiet efficiency of someone accustomed to slipping out unnoticed. The buttons clicked softly into place as he fastened them, his fingers lingering momentarily to adjust the collar. The air in the room was sharp and biting, the kind of cold that settled into the bones during the darkest hours, but it brought a clarity he welcomed. It matched the quiet resolve settling over him.

With practiced ease, he reached for his boots. The worn leather, scuffed from countless journeys, creaked faintly as he laced them up, his movements rhythmic and methodical. The weight of the boots grounded him, their familiarity a small comfort in an otherwise restless night. As he leaned forward, his shadow stretched long against the wall, flickering faintly in the dim light. He paused for a moment, glancing back at Lira's sleeping form, her serene beauty almost enough to make him reconsider venturing out into the cold. Almost.

As he reached for his belt, his gaze wandered back to Lira. She had shifted slightly in her sleep, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. He couldn't help but pause, his expression softening again. How does she put up with me?

<Sentimental moments are inefficient, Mikhailis.>

"Do you have an off switch?" he muttered, shaking his head as he reached for his gloves.

<No, and I'm the only thing keeping you alive half the time, so you're welcome.>

"Wonderful. My survival depends on a back-talking AI."

He slipped the gloves on, flexing his fingers with deliberate precision, each movement a calming ritual amidst the quiet stillness of the room. The inn was almost eerily silent, the faint creaks of settling wood blending seamlessly with the muffled sounds of the sleeping village outside. Mikhailis moved to the window, his footsteps light against the wooden floor, and carefully undid the latch. The metal clicked softly, and he pushed the window open just enough to allow the crisp night air to spill into the room.

The cool breeze carried with it the unmistakable scent of damp earth, mingled with the faint tang of distant pine trees. The freshness was invigorating, cutting through the lingering warmth of the room and sending a faint shiver up his spine. He leaned forward, his arms resting on the sill as his sharp gaze swept across the dimly lit street below. Shadows danced where the moonlight failed to reach, the stillness broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant bark of a dog.

But then, a subtle shift in the air caught his attention—a presence, faint yet undeniable. His eyes narrowed as his senses sharpened, scanning the scene more intently. The faintest rustle reached his ears, too deliberate to be the wind. He tensed, his sharp instincts honed from countless nights like this, and leaned further out. His gaze locked onto a faint movement, and then he spotted it: a flash of red, glinting like fire under the moonlight. A smirk crept onto his lips as recognition set in.

The head of crimson hair crouched just beneath the window sill, its owner evidently trying—and failing—to remain unseen. He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his voice barely louder than the breeze.

"What are you doing here, Lone Wolf? Practicing stealth drills at an inn?"

Cerys's head snapped up, her green eyes narrowing as her face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. Her fiery red hair, loose from its usual ponytail, framed her sharp features, catching the faint glow of moonlight and making it look like a halo of flames. Her lips, pressed into a thin line, parted slightly as she inhaled sharply, her tone biting but hushed.

"You knew I was here, didn't you?" she hissed, the words laced with equal parts frustration and reluctant amusement.

"Of course, I know someone miss me too much that she went from a knight into a peeping tom," Mikhailis shrugged.

"You're mean sometimes, Your Highness." Her every movement was precise, her posture exuding a disciplined grace even in her indignation, as if her warrior instincts never fully rested.

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand.

"Mean? I thought I was being charming."

She glared at him, though her lips twitched like she was fighting the urge to smile.

"Charming doesn't involve calling people out of hiding."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, swinging one leg over the sill before hopping down to join her. He landed lightly, adjusting his gloves as he straightened.

"So, what brings you skulking around my window at this ungodly hour?"

"I could ask you the same," she shot back, crossing her arms.

"What are you doing up?"

He grinned, brushing a bit of dust from his coat.

"Would you believe me if I said I had a hunch?"

She arched a brow.

"That's not an answer." Find adventures on My Virtual Library Empire

"Fair enough," he conceded.

"I've got some things to check out. Care to join me? It'll be more fun with company."

She hesitated, her arms dropping slightly as she studied him. "

You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Always," he said with a wink.

"But this time, it's purely investigative. No secret plots. No grand schemes. Just gathering data."

She frowned slightly but nodded.

"Fine. But if this turns out to be some ridiculous wild goose chase, I'm blaming you. What kind of data, Your Highness?"

Mikhailis's grin lingered as he straightened, brushing off his gloves.

"A comprehensive soil analysis, for starters. We'll check three key areas: near the central well to see if water contamination might be affecting crop growth, the village perimeter for signs of soil degradation, and the abandoned fields to assess how the mist has impacted fertility."

Cerys raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing as she leaned against a nearby post.

"So, basically, we're digging in dirt?"

He chuckled.

"Not just dirt. It's about validating a hypothesis and finding any details we might have missed. The soil tells a story—one that could give us a clearer picture of what's really going on here."

As he spoke, her skeptical expression softened slightly, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. She shifted her stance, brushing a strand of red hair away from her face.

"Why are you blushing, Lone Wolf?" he teased, his grin widening.

"This is pure investigation, not a romantic midnight stroll. We're not having sex,"

"Of course! I know that!" she snapped, her voice a bit too sharp as she turned away, her face now a deeper shade of crimson.

"I'm just… preparing myself for the cold night air."

Wow. That's cute. Damn you, you make me kind of aroused right now.

<Aroused, aren't we?>

Shut up, Rodion.