Elara moved through the marble corridor like a storm wrapped in silk.
Her gown whispered across the polished floor, ivory fabric catching the morning light streaming through the tall arched windows. Servants bowed as she passed, though none dared meet her eyes. They had heard. Of course they had heard.
They always did.
By now, the entire palace would be murmuring about the princess who had danced alone in the ballroom at midnight , a reckless, defiant display beneath the chandeliers.
Exactly as she intended.
If her father insisted on assigning her a silent, stone-hearted knight as though she were a fragile relic to be guarded, then she would remind him she was still very much capable of causing disruption.
And disruption traveled swiftly through gossip.
"Are you quite all right, Your Highness?" Maera asked gently, hurrying beside her.
Elara's lips curved into a bright, brittle smile. "I am perfectly well. Why would I not be?"
She did not slow her pace.
Behind them, measured and unhurried, boots echoed against stone.
Ser Kael.
Even without looking, she felt him there. A presence. Controlled. Unyielding.
Against her better judgment, she glanced over her shoulder.
For a fleeting moment, her eyes collided with his.
He did not look away.
His expression remained unreadable , but there was something different this morning. Not disapproval. Not curiosity.
Watchfulness.
Her heartbeat faltered, then she turned sharply forward again.
Good.
Let him watch.
As they rounded the bend in the corridor, a tall figure stepped into view, dressed in deep navy trimmed with silver embroidery.
Duke Alaric of Dravenhold.
He bowed low, golden hair catching the chandelier light as though polished for effect.
"Your Highness," he greeted smoothly, stepping forward to take her hand. His lips brushed her knuckles with practiced elegance.
Elara resisted the faint urge to recoil.
"Your Grace," she replied evenly. "You are far from your estate."
"The council meeting concluded earlier than expected," he explained, straightening. "Though not without distraction."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"A melody reached the chamber. Haunting. Unexpected. I am told it originated in the ballroom."
Elara tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Was it so disruptive?"
"Disruptive enough that His Majesty dismissed the gathering shortly after."
Ah.
There it was.
The summons would come soon.
Maera bit her lip beside her, wisely silent.
"Perhaps I should apologize," Elara said lightly. "Though I find music far more pleasant than politics."
Alaric smiled , but there was something possessive beneath it.
"Would you care to walk in the gardens?" he offered. "Fresh air may soothe… restless impulses."
A challenge wrapped in courtesy.
"A moment ago, I would have declined," Elara replied airily. "But I suppose I can spare a little time for you, Your Grace."
Maera's expression tightened. When Elara used that tone, mischief was certain to follow.
They descended the spiral staircase and stepped into the palace gardens.
Morning light filtered through the trees. White lilies swayed beside winding paths of crushed stone. Roses climbed trellises in careful arcs of red and blush. The fountain hummed softly at the center, its steady rhythm almost meditative.
Elara inhaled slowly.
The scent of jasmine stirred memory , her mother's laughter drifting through these very paths years ago.
Though this was the public garden.
Her private one lay beyond her chambers.
Sacred. Untouched. Built by her mother's own hands.
She rarely allowed anyone inside.
"Is it not beautiful?" Alaric asked, watching her rather than the scenery.
"It is," she admitted softly. "Nature asks nothing of us. That is its kindness."
Her gaze drifted, almost unconsciously.
Kael stood several paces away beside Maera, posture straight, eyes scanning the perimeter. The morning light caught faintly in his dark hair. His expression remained impassive , yet his presence felt steady.
Grounding.
Alaric noticed.
"You should visit more often," he said quickly, stepping closer to reclaim her attention.
"There is little here that brings me comfort," she replied. "My mother's garden is far more beautiful. Only those dearest to me are ever permitted within."
Alaric's smile faltered.
His eyes flicked again toward Kael.
"And this knight?" he asked carefully. "What business has he walking so near you?"
"He is my personal guard ser kael," Elara answered.
"Dressed plainly. Hardly befitting such proximity."
Elara's lips curved faintly.
"Because I prefer him this way."
A lie.
A deliberate one.
She saw it strike.
Jealousy flickered in Alaric's eyes , quick but unmistakable.
"Are you comfortable with his presence?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"Comfortable?" She gave a soft laugh. "Of course not. But my father believes I require protection from shadows I do not see."
"And do you?"
Her eyes sharpened. "That depends on who casts them."
Silence lingered.
"If you wished him reassigned," Alaric murmured, stepping closer, "there are ways."
"How?" she asked lightly.
"There are many methods of removing a knight," he said smoothly. "Some administrative. Some… permanent."
Behind her, something shifted.
A nearly imperceptible sound , leather tightening.
Kael.
Elara did not turn, but she felt it.
Alaric strode toward him.
"Ser Kael," the Duke said sharply, "the princess and I require privacy. You are dismissed."
Kael did not move.
He did not blink.
But a subtle tension coiled through him , shoulders squared slightly, fingers flexing once near the hilt at his side before settling again.
Measured restraint.
The Duke's jaw tightened. "Did you not hear me?"
Silence.
"Do you know who stands before you?"
"I do," Kael replied at last.
His voice was calm. Deep. Controlled.
It carried no apology.
Alaric stiffened.
Elara stepped forward smoothly, her tone laced with mild amusement.
"It is quite all right, Your Grace. He is the same with me , barely speaks, rarely obeys unless commanded by my father himself. The King's orders bind him more tightly than courtesy."
Alaric's gaze flicked between them.
"Indeed," he said stiffly.
Elara smiled sweetly. "Thank you for the walk. I did have a measure of… enjoyment."
The Duke bowed, though the gleam in his eyes had cooled.
"As always, Your Highness."
But his look toward Kael lingered longer.
Assessing. Calculating.
Kael met it without flinching.
Then lowered his gaze first.
Deliberately.
They returned toward the palace.
This time, Elara's steps were slower.
The game had amused her , but beneath it lay something unsettled.
She had danced to provoke her father.
To force acknowledgment. To challenge his silent control.
But now there were consequences.
Political ones.
Dangerous ones.
As they moved through the grand hall, guards straightened instantly. Whispers ceased.
"Take me to him," she instructed.
The guards exchanged glances and led her toward the King's private study.
At the towering wooden doors, she paused.
Maera's hand brushed her sleeve. "Be careful."
Elara gave her a softer smile , one without sharp edges.
"I always am."
Her eyes lifted once more to Kael.
Just briefly.
His expression did not change , but something unreadable flickered there.
Concern?
Or merely duty?
She pushed the doors open.
The scent of parchment and extinguished incense greeted her.
Shelves of books lined the chamber walls , remnants of evenings long past, when her parents ruled side by side. Her mother's voice had once filled this room with measured counsel and warmth.
Now it felt colder.
"Father," she called quietly.
The King looked up.
For the briefest heartbeat, the ruler vanished.
There was only a father.
His gaze softened, warmth breaking through the hardened mask he wore before the court.
But it faded quickly.
"You wished to see me?" Elara asked, standing tall.
His fingers tapped once against the desk.
"I hear," he began slowly, "that the palace has acquired a new musician."
Her pulse steadied.
Good.
Let the game begin.
And somewhere beyond those doors, in the corridor heavy with silence, a knight stood listening , bound by orders, yet unable to ignore the gathering storm.