Chapter 43: Companion

And suddenly, her memory came back: Sean had explained to her that the first drakion in their history, who died protecting the first Diamond Queen, was named Saphir.

"Can I borrow her for a minute, Argy? She and I have things to talk about."

Argy looked at her.

" That's up to her. If Snow is okay with it, I'm okay with it."

Blanche nodded and stepped into her room.

Her red hair framed her expressive face, where every emotion showed without filter: surprise widened her eyes, embarrassment instantly flushed her cheeks, and the determination that had just surfaced hardened her features with an unexpected intensity.

She sat down on her bed.

Saphir closed the door behind them with an almost ceremonial delicacy, as if every movement carried a weight he carefully measured. Phénix, sensing the tension, jumped onto her lap and curled up, purring with an almost possessive intensity, his tail slowly brushing against her arm.

He lifted his silver eyes toward her, filled with a quiet adoration, as if he were watching over something precious. She stroked him to calm herself, burying her fingers in his warm fur.

" I'll be brief. First of all, I know you can't tell me anything. That's alright. We can rely on each other, and for now, that's all that matters. I know you don't know who I am... so let me introduce myself properly: I am Saphir. Your drakion companion."

Blanche's reaction was immediate: she stared at him, utterly dazed. Her eyes widened. She wasn't even listening anymore.

A blush spread across her face.

Wow...

In the future, she and him...

Breathe. Inhale.

Pointless. Her breath came short. Saphir was her drakion companion. It was colossal. He was handsome, intelligent, reliable but... and disarmingly gentle. A kind of gentleness that didn't impose itself, that simply existed—and unsettled her more than any grand display ever could.

He stepped forward, faced with her sudden disarray, and the light finally caught his features. Saphir was tall, but without arrogance. His silhouette was fluid, almost feline in the way he moved, as if he belonged to a different rhythm than that of humans.

His hair, a deep blue with lighter reflections, framed a face of sharp lines softened by an unreal shade of blue in his eyes—a dense, deep blue, like a living gemstone. His skin bore only faint, fine marks, like remnants of old battles, but nothing that diminished the calm he radiated.

And above all... there was that gentleness. In his voice, in the way he kept a respectful distance, in that gaze that never tried to force her—only to reach her.

His hand stilled. His body froze. Saphir moistened his lips, aware of the impact of his words, and aware that he had no right to demand or ask for anything more.

"When you need me, I'll be there," he continued more softly, kneeling as one would before something greater. "We'll have to meet on the other side. Send Phénix—he'll know how to find me."

At the sound of his name, Phénix lifted his head proudly, as if he fully understood his role. He pressed himself closer to Blanche in a slightly jealous gesture, then placed a paw on her arm, as if to assert: she's mine too.

" That's all I wanted to tell you."

He fell silent, listening.

"Aaron just arrived. I'll leave you."

"Wait! "Blanche called out.

He barely turned back, as if caught between the desire to stay and the discipline he imposed on himself.

"The others told me you were staying... longer. Please, don't change. Not for me."

There was a silence. Long. Dense. For a moment, his gaze softened even more—something almost tender, almost... painful.

Then he simply nodded and left. Not a glance back. As if leaving quickly was the only way to hold on.

Phénix immediately lifted his muzzle.

Wasn't it you who asked if I knew a drakion as handsome as me? Be careful what you wish for, little mouse. Though I'm clearly more—

Blanche blushed again. She wasn't listening anymore.

Wow...

She was married to a man she didn't know, and she had a lover she already knew.

Did her husband know?!

Calm down. That problem belongs to the future. Focus on the present. Like always. Stay pragmatic, little mouse!

She repeated the phrase over and over, clutching Phénix to her. The cat responded with an even deeper purr, burying his muzzle under her chin, as if to protect her from the entire world. A walking anxiolytic. And it worked.

Blanche wasn't particularly tall, but she more than made up for it with a presence... let's say, hard to ignore—especially when she panicked, which happened more often than she'd care to admit lately. At this point, no one even bothered asking why anymore.

Her slender frame gave an impression of deceptive fragility: she bent easily, but never broke, always snapping back with an almost irritating tenacity.

Emotionally, Blanche was a walking paradox: capable of worrying about absolutely everything, yet also able to make completely absurd decisions with remarkable confidence—especially when someone else was involved.

She overthought everything. Far too much. Except when it actually mattered. And despite all that—or maybe because of it—she kept moving forward, driven by a fierce loyalty and a heart that had the very bad habit of getting attached far too quickly.

She already liked Saphir. Which, somehow, made everything even more complicated.

A knock sounded at the door.

"One minute! " she called.

She was absolutely not ready to meet her husband.

A husband.

She almost laughed. All this just to save her best friend.

Stop pretending. We both know you'd do it again.

"Twice, without hesitation," she murmured. "Come in!"

The door opened on the last person she expected to see. The one she most wanted to see. A player she hadn't thought she'd meet so soon.

For a second, she thought she had woken up. Except she was still in the large, empty room of the barracks.

No wonder she felt so comfortable there.

Like home.