Friya sat in the garden, her hand stretched out before her. A servant worked carefully over her nails, filing, shaping, smoothing each edge with quiet precision. The air carried the scent of fresh flowers and trimmed grass. Everything around her felt controlled. Ordered.
Predictable.
She leaned back slightly, watching the slow movement of the servant's hands. For a moment, nothing pressed against her thoughts. No tension. No urgency.
Then, a trumpet sounded sharp. Loud enough to cut through the stillness of the garden.
The servant froze.
Friya's eyes lifted immediately. Another note followed, longer this time, echoing from the direction of the harbor.
She sat up straight. "Has a new ship arrived?" she asked.
No one answered. The servants exchanged glances, unsure.
Friya stood.
The cloth draped over her lap slipped to the ground, forgotten. She stepped forward, her pace quickening with each second. Curiosity pulled her first.
Then something else followed behind it.
Unease.
She moved past the garden archway and into the open path that overlooked the shore. The harbor came into view.
Ships.
Movement. And then, her breath caught. At the front of the arriving ship stood two figures.
Side by side.
Holding hands: Maria, and Drexo.
Friya stopped walking. The world narrowed around that single image. Her fingers curled slowly at her sides. Her heart clenched, sharp and sudden. "What nonsense," she muttered under her breath.
Her lips pressed together. "I was told Maria and her girls had already left Cliffland."
But the ship kept moving closer, and closer. Until there was no mistaking it. No room for denial.
They stood there openly. No distance between them. No attempt to hide. The truth sat plainly before her. Her jaw tightened.
The ship docked. Ropes were thrown. Hands moved quickly to secure it. The wood creaked as it settled into place.
Drexo stepped forward first. Then he turned. His hand extended toward Maria. She took it without hesitation.
He helped her down from the ship. Carefully, and deliberately. The gesture did not go unnoticed.
Eyes followed them as they stepped onto the shore. Soldiers. Servants. Onlookers who had gathered at the sound of the trumpet. None of them spoke, but their silence carried weight.
Drexo did not acknowledge them. "You are no longer returning to your residence," he said.
His voice was calm, but firm. "Your girls can."
He paused.
"But you will live with me in the Warden's Castle."
The words landed clearly. There was no hiding it now. No softening it. Maria's brows drew together slightly. "What about Friya and your aunt?" she asked.
Drexo did not slow. "Leave them to me," he said. "I will handle them."
He tightened his grip on her hand. Then he pulled her forward. The movement was not gentle. Not forceful either, but certain.
The kind that did not allow hesitation. They walked. Straight through the watching crowd.
The warriors stood aside as they passed. Some exchanged glances. Others watched with narrowed eyes, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.
The girls stood near the edge of the dock. Rita's gaze followed them, her expression shifting between confusion and realization.
"They have been romantically involved all along?" she asked.
Helen's lips curved into a small smile. Rita's head snapped toward her. "You knew?" she hissed.
Helen said nothing. Rita exhaled sharply, frustration rising too quickly to contain. She turned and walked away.
At the castle gate, the guards straightened as Drexo approached. Their eyes flicked to Maria.
Then back to him. No one spoke. The gates opened. They stepped through.
Inside, the air felt different. Colder. Heavier. Havana stood just beyond the entrance. Her gaze lifted as they approached.
The moment her eyes landed on them, something in her expression shifted.
Confusion, sharp, and immediate.
"What is going on?" she asked. Her voice carried the weight of authority, but beneath it, something unsettled lingered. "I thought you already left."
Drexo nodded. "Yes." A brief pause. "But I brought her back."
Havana's brows furrowed. "And why did you do that?"
Drexo did not hesitate. "She is carrying my baby," he said. The words fell cleanly between them. "And we are getting married."
Havana froze.
Her lips parted. No words came out. For a moment, she simply stood there, caught between reaction and disbelief.
Drexo did not wait. He moved past her, pulling Maria along with him. "But… but…" Havana's voice followed behind them, unsteady now. "You are engaged to Friya."
Drexo did not turn. He did not slow. He kept walking.
Inside his chamber, the door shut behind them. The space felt quieter than the rest of the castle. Isolated. Removed.
Drexo released her hand. "You will live here with me," he said. His tone left no room for argument. "You must stop involving yourself in hard training."
Maria jerked slightly. "What?" Her brows drew together. "You mean I will abandon my army?"
Drexo shook his head.
"You can watch them train," he said. "But you must not be involved." His gaze held hers. "They are no kids."
Silence stretched.
The words settled, but not comfortably. "Wait here," Drexo added. He turned toward the door. "I will go get you food."
A brief pause.
"I know you haven't eaten this morning." He stepped out. The door closed behind him.
The corridor outside carried faint echoes of movement. Drexo moved quickly, his steps steady, focused. Then, he stopped.
Friya stood ahead. She did not move. Her posture was rigid, her gaze locked onto him. There was no softness left in her expression. No trace of the calm composure she had worn in the garden.
Only anger. Bare, and unhidden. She stepped forward. "I heard you brought your mistress into the castle."
The words came sharp. Drexo's fist clenched at his side. His face tightened, irritation flashing across it without restraint.
"She is carrying my child," he said.
Each word was measured. "And I intend to marry her."
The impact was immediate. Friya staggered back slightly. Her hand lifted, as if to steady herself, but found nothing.
"She is what?"
Drexo's lips curved faintly. "She is pregnant."
Silence followed.
Not empty, but heavy. It stretched between them, thick enough to feel.
Drexo watched her. The shift in her expression did not go unnoticed. Shock gave way to something deeper. Something quieter.
Pain.
"I am sorry," he said. His voice lowered. "I know I have hurt you."
A pause.
"Broke my vows to you." His gaze did not waver. "I cheated on you."
Another pause.
"And now I am marrying another woman."
Friya's breath came unevenly. Then something in her snapped. "And you think to marry her?" she shouted. Her voice rose sharply, echoing against the walls. "You are engaged to me!"
Her eyes burned. "What happens to our engagement?"
Drexo's tone remained steady. "I am willing to marry you after the moment you are eighteen."
The words settled, then twisted.
Friya let out a short, bitter laugh. "You want me as your second wife?"
She laughed again. Longer this time, and harsher.
The sound carried no humor. Only disbelief. Only anger. Then she stopped. Her gaze locked onto his. "You think you can do whatever you want because you are king," she said.
Each word came slower now, and sharper. She took a step closer. "I dare you to marry her."
She turned sharply. Then paused. Without looking back, she repeated it. "I dare you to marry her."
A breath.
"I promise you." Her voice lowered. It's getting colder now. "There will be no crown on your head by then."