The corridor outside the Union Hall was vast and cold, lined with marble pillars and silent guards who pretended not to listen. The moment the doors sealed behind the Empress's delegation, the thunder of shouting inside erupted again—envoys arguing, advisors scrambling, accusations flying.
But out here…
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Lysandra walked with measured grace, her steps slow, precise, too controlled for a woman who had just turned the entire Union Council against a king.
Daren felt tension radiating off her like heat from a blade fresh out of the forge.
Rhedon and Serene followed several paces behind, speaking in low whispers.
"Do you think the investigation will actually be neutral?" Serene murmured.
Rhedon grunted. "Neutral investigations don't exist. But they do fear public shame. That helps."
Daren didn't respond.
His focus stayed on the Empress.
Every time she passed a window, sunlight caught her face—and he saw it.
The cracks.
The exhaustion.
The small tremble in her hand she kept hidden in her sleeve.
When they reached a quieter hall, Lysandra finally slowed.
"Rhedon," she said, voice tight. "Return to the embassy and secure the documents. No one touches them."
Rhedon bowed. "At once, Your Majesty."
"And Serene—"
"I'll stay with you," the princess declared immediately. "You're trembling."
Lysandra stiffened. "I am not."
"You are," Serene said softly, "and it's allowed. You were almost ambushed, you were accused publicly, and half the Council wants your crown on a wall."
Lysandra closed her eyes—just one heartbeat too long.
Then she turned away.
"I have a meeting with the Rhydenfort lead investigator. I need you to review the Asterfell envoy's movements."
Serene sighed dramatically. "Translation: 'Serene, go do something else because I refuse to look vulnerable near you.'"
Lysandra's expression flickered.
Daren looked away to give them privacy.
Finally, Serene stepped back. "Fine. But I'll check on you later."
She gave Daren a pointed look.
"Make sure she eats. And breathes."
Then she left.
The Quiet Room
Once Serene and Rhedon were gone, Lysandra walked toward a narrow room reserved for private union briefings. Daren followed.
The moment the door shut behind them, Lysandra exhaled sharply and braced her hands on the table. Her shoulders sagged, just an inch.
Just enough to reveal truth.
She was exhausted.
"Daren," she whispered, "I think I may have made things worse."
He stepped closer—but not too close.
"Your Majesty, you prevented the Council from declaring you guilty before evidence was reviewed. That was the best outcome possible."
"They were waiting for me to make a mistake," she said. "But I didn't expect Halstrin to be so bold. The lies… the spin… the rehearsed accusations…"
Her voice grew quieter. "I wasn't prepared."
"You were more than prepared."
"No," she murmured. "I reacted with anger. You saw it."
"Yes," he said honestly. "But you turned that anger into strategy."
She looked at him then—really looked.
For a moment, she wasn't Empress.
Just a young woman cornered in a political storm she didn't ask for.
"Daren," she whispered, "I am afraid."
The words trembled.
He stepped forward fully now.
"You should be. Only fools aren't afraid."
Then gently:
"But you stood before kings and demanded truth. That takes strength."
Her eyes softened.
"Strength," she repeated, "or stubbornness."
"As your knight," he said, "I'll take either."
A quiet laugh escaped her lips—small, fragile, real.
The Union's Shadow
A knock sounded.
Daren moved immediately, placing himself between Lysandra and the door.
An attendant peered inside.
"Your Majesty, the Neutral Investigative Office of Rhydenfort requests your presence. They have begun preliminary questioning."
Lysandra straightened instantly.
Her mask returned.
"Tell them I'll arrive in ten minutes."
"Yes, Empress."
The door closed.
She turned to Daren.
"Come with me."
He frowned. "To the investigator's chamber? Usually only the monarch attends."
"I know."
She met his gaze evenly. "But today, I want you there."
"Why?"
Her answer was soft.
"Because you were there. You saw everything. And because…"
She hesitated—only a second.
"Because I trust you."
The words froze him.
Trust.
No one in power used that word lightly.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly, "whatever comes, I'll face it with you."
She nodded.
But she didn't move.
She looked at him one more second—longer than was proper, longer than was safe—before pulling her composure back into place.
"We should go," she whispered.
"Of course."
The Investigator
The interrogation wing of the Union Hall was stark—white walls, polished steel, glass tables. Rhydenfort's investigators were infamous not for cruelty, but for precision.
They didn't threaten.
They didn't comfort.
They simply dismantled lies until only truth remained.
The lead investigator—Magistrate Rowan—rose as Lysandra entered.
"Your Majesty. Sir Vale. Please take a seat."
Lysandra sat elegantly.
Daren stood.
Rowan made no comment— but a flicker of interest passed through his eyes.
"We will begin with the events of last night," Rowan said, sliding a quill across a blank page. "Your palace was infiltrated. Twelve assailants killed. Several guards injured. Yourself included."
"I was unharmed," Lysandra said.
Daren glanced at her.
A lie.
She had bruises. Scratches. A cut on her shoulder.
Rowan noticed the hesitation.
"Sir Vale," he said, turning his gaze. "Is that accurate?"
Lysandra's breath caught.
Daren paused.
Two paths:
—Lie to protect her image.
—Tell the truth, damaging her standing but proving her honesty.
He met her eyes.
She gave the smallest shake of her head.
Don't lie.
So he didn't.
"She was injured," he said. "Bruised and cut. She refused treatment until the wing was secured."
Rowan nodded.
Lysandra lowered her gaze—only enough for the room to feel her honesty.
"Thank you for your openness," Rowan said. "Both of you."
The questioning continued for a long, tense hour.
Every movement.
Every order.
Every second of the attack.
Daren's recounting was steady, factual. Lysandra's was calm and precise. Their stories aligned perfectly—complementing each other, filling gaps without contradicting.
Rowan remained expressionless, but he took pages of notes.
When it ended, he closed the folder.
"The Council will not be pleased with your unfiltered answers," he said.
"Truth rarely pleases those who prefer lies," Lysandra replied.
"Yes," he said. "Which is why I will report exactly what I observed today."
She stiffened. "And what did you observe?"
Rowan glanced between her and Daren.
Then said simply:
"Your kingdom is not divided. Your leadership is not weak. And your knight…"
He paused deliberately.
"…is loyal beyond reproach."
Daren felt heat touch his ears.
Lysandra's breath softened.
Rowan stood.
"This hearing was called in bad faith," he said quietly. "But the investigation will not be conducted that way."
Lysandra's eyes widened—just slightly.
He bowed.
"Good day, Your Majesty."
Then he left.
The Walk Back
Silence accompanied Lysandra and Daren as they exited the investigation wing.
Only when they reached the quiet marble garden outside did she speak.
"Daren… thank you."
"For what?"
"For not lying. For standing with me. For…"
She exhaled.
"For being steady when everything else tries to shake me."
He didn't answer immediately.
Then softly:
"I'll always steady you."
Her lips parted.
Something unspoken passed between them—too fragile, too dangerous to name.
But real.
Before either could say more, Serene came sprinting down the hall.
"There you are!" she panted. "The Council is already scheming. They're planning another session tonight."
Lysandra tensed.
Daren stiffened.
Serene continued breathlessly:
"And Asterfell's envoy just filed a personal grievance against Sir Daren."
"What?" Lysandra snapped.
Serene nodded, eyes wide.
"They're accusing him of misconduct, overstepping authority, and 'inappropriate closeness to the Empress.'"
The world stilled.
Daren froze.
Lysandra's expression transformed—no fear, no exhaustion.
Pure fury.
"They want to remove him from my side," she whispered.
"Yes," Serene said. "Tonight's session will be brutal."
Lysandra turned to Daren.
And for the first time in the entire novel—
fear for him
overpowered fear for herself.
"They cannot take you from me," she whispered.
Not politically.
Not symbolically.
Not personally.
She stepped closer—too close.
"They will try," he said quietly. "But they won't succeed."
Her jaw trembled.
"Daren…"
He bowed his head.
"Your Majesty, I am yours to command."
She closed her eyes.
And whispered:
"And that is exactly what terrifies them."
This ends with the sound of the Union Hall bells ringing—summoning them to the second, more hostile part of the hearing.