The medbay was quiet at this hour.

  Lelya walked down the corridor, listening to her own footsteps on the tile floor. Night pressed against the windows — no stars, no moon. Just the reflections of overhead lamps in the black glass.

  Inside, everything was churning. The adrenaline had ebbed, leaving anger — hot, prickly, demanding an outlet.

  Bogumir's room was at the end of the corridor. She didn't hesitate at the door — just pushed it open and walked in.

  He lay on the bed. His side was bandaged — white gauze, spots of blood soaking through the fabric. Eyes closed.

  "I'm not asleep," he said without opening his eyes. "I'm just pretending so I don't have to talk to the nurses."

  "You're an idiot," Lelya said.

  He opened his eyes.

  "Is that instead of 'thank you for saving my life'?"

  "It's instead of 'what the hell were you thinking.'" Lelya walked to the bed but didn't sit. She stood over him, fists clenched. "You could have dodged cleaner. I've seen how you move in training. You're faster than any of them. But you didn't dodge. You took the hit."

  "I shielded you."

  "You took the hit!" She was nearly shouting. "A centimeter to the left and the blade would have gone between your ribs. You're a vampire, not immortal. A takenak won't kill you, but a regular knife through the heart — absolutely will."

  Bogumir watched her in silence. No irony, no usual mask.

  "You're angry," he said.

  "Of course I'm angry!"

  "Why?"

  The question caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to answer — and couldn't find the words. Why was she angry? He'd done his job. Protected her. Got wounded, but survived. All according to plan, all by the book.

  So why was everything burning inside?

  "Because you could have died," she said at last. Her voice cracked. "Because I stood there and watched you fall with a bloody gash in your side, and I thought — that's it. I thought — this is because of me."

  She went silent. Her throat closed up.

  Bogumir slowly sat up in the bed. He winced from the pain, but sat up. Looked up at her.

  "Sit down," he said quietly.

  "I don't want to."

  "Lelya. Sit down."

  She sat. On the edge of the bed, far from him. Her hands were shaking.

  "I didn't take the hit," he said. "I chose. Consciously. I knew the blade would reach me, knew it would hurt. I chose that."

  "Why?"

  "I could have dodged cleaner, could have stepped back. But then there was a chance the blade would reach you. A small chance. Maybe five percent." A pause. "I didn't want to risk it."

  "Five percent is nothing."

  "Five percent is your death." His voice went harder. "One scratch, Lelya. You've seen what a takenak does to mages. I've seen it dozens of times. And I was not going to watch it happen to you."

  Lelya was quiet. Something clenched in her chest — painful, unfamiliar.

  "It's your job," she said. "To protect me."

  "Yes."

  "Then why does it sound like something else?"

  Bogumir looked at her for a long time. Then he reached out and took her hand.

  "Because three months ago, I would have risked those five percent," he said. "I would have made a clean maneuver, come away without a scratch, calculated everything perfectly. Three months ago, you were a job."

  "And now?"

  He didn't answer with words. He just looked at her — and in his eyes was something she hadn't seen before. Not irony, not a mask. Something real and frightening.

  Then he leaned toward her — slowly, giving her time to pull away.

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  She didn't pull away.

  The kiss was brief. Soft. Cautious, like a first step on thin ice.

  When he drew back, Lelya stared at him with wide eyes.

  "That was..."

  "Bad?"

  "Unexpected."

  "Not quite an answer."

  She laughed — quietly, with surprise. He smiled back, and the crease of pain at his temple smoothed for a second.

  "So what now?" she asked.

  "Now — nothing." He leaned back against the pillow, wincing. "You're a minister, I'm a bodyguard. You have enemies who want you dead. We have an unknown threat from the Citadel ahead of us."

  "Sounds romantic."

  "Sounds like our life."

  Lelya stood. Her hand slipped out of his fingers — and she had to force herself to let go.

  "Get well," she said. "We need to talk. But not now."

  "When?"

  "When I figure out what to do with this."

  She reached the door. Stopped without turning around.

  "Bogumir."

  "Yes?"

  "If you take a hit like that again — I'll kill you myself."

  She heard him smirk. Quietly, almost soundlessly.

  "Understood."

  Lelya stepped into the corridor. Leaned against the wall, closed her eyes. Her hands were still trembling. But now she knew why.

  * * *

  Bogumir returned to work a week later.

  The wound had closed — vampiric regeneration had done its work. He moved a touch more carefully, sometimes reaching for his side in an absent gesture, but otherwise he was the same. The same lazy posture by the door, the same irony in his voice.

  Lelya looked at him and didn't recognize him.

  No, nothing had changed on the outside. But now she noticed things she'd missed before: how he checked every corridor before she walked into it; how his shoulders tensed slightly when someone unfamiliar appeared nearby; how he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking.

  And how she kept seeking out his gaze.

  They didn't talk about the kiss in the medbay. Didn't discuss what it meant. They just worked side by side, same as before. But everything had changed.

  After yet another meeting — long, grueling — they were left alone in the office. Radimir had gone, Miroslav had dashed off to another appointment. Silence hung between them — not heavy, but familiar.

  "You're tired," Bogumir said.

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "To me — yes. You get a little crease between your brows. Right here."

  He raised his hand — and almost touched her forehead. Stopped a centimeter away.

  "I've studied you over these months," he continued quietly. "I know when you're angry — the corner of your mouth twitches. I know when you're lying — you look just to the left of the person you're talking to. I know when you're happy — you get dimples in your cheeks, even though you deny it."

  "I don't deny it."

  "Three times. You denied it three times."

  Lelya laughed — and felt those very dimples appear.

  "Fine. I definitely denied it."

  They looked at each other — and something in the air thickened.

  "Bogumir," Lelya said. "What are we doing?"

  "Meaning?"

  "You know what I mean. You're my bodyguard. I'm a minister. This is wrong."

  "Since when do you care about what's right?"

  "Since I started thinking about you more than about work."

  The words escaped before she could stop them. Lelya froze, feeling her cheeks burn.

  Bogumir was silent. He looked at her — long, serious.

  "Me too," he said finally. "All the time. It's getting in the way of work, in the way of sleep, in the way of thinking about anything else."

  "That's bad."

  "That's terrible." He stepped closer. "And I can't stop."

  He leaned down and kissed her. This time — not cautiously, like in the medbay. With certainty.

  She kissed him back.

  They lasted three days.

  Three days of professional behavior. Three days of "Minister" and "bodyguard." Three days of looks that meant nothing, and accidental touches that were anything but accidental.

  On the fourth day, Radimir gave Lelya an odd look.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  "You're smiling."

  "So?"

  "You never smile at morning meetings." He squinted. "Something happened?"

  "Nothing. I just slept well."

  Lelya turned away — and caught Bogumir's eye by the door. He raised an eyebrow, barely perceptibly. She shrugged, equally imperceptibly.

  On the sixth day, Lilith caught them.

  Lelya had lingered after training — packing her things, killing time. Bogumir waited by the door. The hall was empty. She walked over to him — just to confirm evening plans, she told herself. But she ended up too close, and he leaned toward her, and their lips nearly touched...

  "Interesting."

  Lilith's voice came from behind. Lelya sprang away from Bogumir as if scalded.

  "Lilith. I wasn't... we weren't..."

  "Don't explain. It's not my business." Lilith stood at the entrance, arms crossed over her chest. "But a word of advice: if you're going to hide it — hide it better. I could smell him on you three days ago."

  "Smell?"

  "Vampiric. You smell like him. He smells like you." Lilith shrugged. "An ordinary mage wouldn't notice. But for me — it's obvious."

  Bogumir stepped forward.

  "Lilith. We'd appreciate it if..."

  "I already said — I won't tell. " She looked at him. "You're a good fighter. And you protect her. That's enough."

  She turned and left.

  "We're terrible at hiding things," Lelya said.

  "Terrible," he agreed.

  Within ten days, all of Alnar knew.

  Miroslav spoke first — burst into the office without knocking, beaming like a birthday boy.

  "So it's true? You and the bodyguard? The cafeteria is already taking bets. I put a year."

  "Miroslav. My personal life is not up for discussion."

  "Of course. But everyone's discussing it." He hesitated. "Some people think you're just bored. Others have seen how he looks at you. And they say nobody looks at a distraction like that."

  Radimir reacted more evenly. He said that a bodyguard who was emotionally involved was a liability. Lelya replied that Bogumir had shielded her from a takenak. That he protected her better precisely because he cared.

  Radimir looked at her for a long time, then said:

  "You've changed. You've become lighter. You used to be tense all the time, as if you were bracing for a blow. And now — you're not."

  Varvara didn't bring it up right away. But a week later Lelya received a note: "Come see me. V.S."

  The chief mage's office was cold and austere. Varvara sat behind the desk, eyes fixed on the documents.

  "So. You and Bogumir. I've heard. Do you understand who you've gotten involved with?"

  "I do. Better than anyone."

  "He's killed. A lot."

  "So have all mages. That doesn't make him a bad person."

  Varvara looked at her for a long time. Then she nodded — briefly, almost imperceptibly.

  "Fine. Your life — your business. As long as it doesn't interfere with work."

  "It doesn't."

  "We'll see."

  Out in the corridor, Bogumir was waiting — as always.

  "How did it go?"

  "Better than I expected. She didn't threaten to fire you and she didn't threaten to kill you."

  "Then that's a victory." He smiled and took her hand — simply, naturally. They walked down the corridor together, out in the open.

  Someone passing by glanced at their intertwined fingers; someone whispered something to their neighbor. Lelya didn't pay attention. Let them look.