It's a courtesy — or a formality. 

Let the bride and groom-to-be become acquainted in a space designed to impress. Crystal decanters gleam in the afternoon light. Vases overflow with carefully arranged blooms. It all smells too sweet. 

Eiran does not sit. 

Neither do I. 

He studies the tapestries on the wall, arms folded lightly over his waist. “I can’t decide if this room is meant to comfort or to smother,” he says after a moment. 

My lips twitch. “Perhaps both. A perfect metaphor for marriage.” 

He turns to me, and for the first time since his arrival, his posture softens — just slightly. “I don’t want this,” he says. 

There’s no venom in it. 

Just fatigue. 

Honesty. 

I exhale slowly. “That makes two of us.” 

He nods, then looks past me, toward the gardens beyond the tall windows. 

I fix my wrist bandage, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was told you were quiet. And obedient. What were you told of me?” 

“They said you were delicate. Tragic, maybe. All the makings of a story they could shape into something useful.” 

I almost laugh. “Are you going to try?” 

His eyes flick back to mine. There’s steel there, and something like sadness. “No. I'm too tired of pretending to want what they want for me.” 

We stand in silence again, the only sound the gentle tick of the ornamental clock near the fireplace. 

He glances at the bandage on my wrist. “You fought this morning.” 

“Every morning.” 

A pause. 

Then, “How very unladylike of you. Does it help?” 

“Not enough.” 

He walks to the window and lays a hand against the glass, his voice low. “I’m not your enemy, Elira. But I won’t be your shield either.” 

I nod. “Fair.” 

And then — I can’t stand it anymore. 

The press of everything: the silks, the silence, the performance we’ve both agreed to inhabit. I curtsy, out of habit more than sincerity, and make my exit before I unravel at his feet.

I find Kaelis in the eastern archery court. He’s alone, drawing back a bow with the kind of focus most men reserve for prayer. The thrum of the string vibrates in the air like the aftershock of a truth no one wants to say aloud. 

I stop in the archway. 

He doesn’t turn. 

“I think he hates this as much as I do,” I say, voice tight. 

Kaelis lets the arrow fly. It hits the center of the target. 

Dead-on. 

“I’d be more surprised if he didn’t.” Kaelis lowers the bow, but doesn’t look at me. 

I walk a little closer, still carrying the weight of the conversation with Eiran like it’s stitched into my skin. 

“He was honest,” I say. “In his own way.” 

Still no reply. 

Just the sound of Kaelis returning the bow to the rack, his movements deliberate. 

“He said he doesn’t want this either,” I add, sharper than I mean to. “He didn’t have to say that.” 

Kaelis finally turns. His eyes are steady — not hard, but watchful. Like he’s reading the shape of a fire before deciding if it’ll spread. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not playing a game.” 

I blink. “You think he’s lying?” 

“I think,” he says slowly, “people say what they need to when they’ve already decided how much truth will cost them.” He steps past me, picking up the next bow. “I’ve seen soldiers claim they never wanted to fight. Doesn’t stop them from drawing blood when it matters.” 

The words settle in me like cold water. 

“I’m not asking you to like him,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. 

Kaelis turns back, expression unreadable. “I don’t have to like him,” he says. “I just need to be ready if he becomes dangerous.” 

There’s no anger in his voice. 

No jealousy. 

Just caution.

 Just clarity.

 It’s somehow worse. 

Before I can answer, a guard hurries into the courtyard — bowed, breathless. “Your Highness. The King requests your presence in the council chamber. Immediately.” 

Kaelis and I lock eyes for half a second. 

Then I nod. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

The halls are louder than they should be. 

Not in volume — no shouting, no raised voices — but in tone. 

Servants passing in clusters with heads bent low. Two minor nobles murmuring too quietly by a window, breaking off the moment they see me. 

A steward drops his quill when I turn a corner too quickly. 

Something’s changed. 

I move faster. 

The guards outside the council chamber bow but avoid my eyes. One of them — a boy no older than sixteen — grips his spear too tightly, knuckles gone white. 

“Something wrong?” I ask him. 

He hesitates. Then swallows hard and says, “I don’t know, Your Highness.” 

Which means he does. 

But he’s afraid to speak it aloud.

The doors creak open for me, and I pause in the threshold. The temperature has dropped. Inside, the chamber buzzes with low voices — nobles seated not quite in their usual places, advisors crowded near the dais, tension woven through every breath. My father is already seated at the head of the long table, fingers steepled. Lady Maelis stands just behind him, her expression unreadable, but her eyes trained squarely on me. 

“Eiran’s arrival has accelerated the matter,” my father says without preamble. “There’s been an incident.” 

I step inside, heart tightening. “What kind of incident?” 

A silence follows.

 Lady Maelis gestures to one of the guards near the entrance. He brings forward a scroll — old parchment, wrinkled and sealed with dark wax. Not Valenoran or from Arathen. 

My father speaks again. “A message. Intercepted. From Evasia.” 

I stare at the seal. 

I don’t recognize it, but I understand the meaning before he even says it. 

“It suggests,” Maelis says coolly, “that Prince Eiran is here not only to secure an alliance, but to keep our court fractured… by aligning himself with certain dissenters within our borders.” 

My blood runs cold. “Are we certain it’s authentic?” 

“It was taken from a captured courier,” my father says. “They died under questioning. That usually means yes.” 

I glance toward Lady Maelis. 

Her voice is smooth, but there’s a spark in her eyes — not triumph. 

Not yet. 

Just calculation. 

“You brought him here knowing this?” I ask, voice sharp now. 

“He was already en route,” she replies. “And now you will do what is necessary to contain the situation.” 

“You want me to spy on him?” 

“I want you,” she says, “to find out whether he is the snake they believe — or just another pawn who doesn’t realize which direction he’s facing.” 

My father remains silent. 

Because he agrees. 

Because I’m not a daughter to him right now. 

I’m a tool. 

A counterpiece. 

A trap.

I find Kaelis where I knew he’d be. 

The archery court again. 

Same stance. Same steadiness. 

Like the world hasn’t tilted while I was in that chamber suffocating on politics and poison. 

He looses another arrow before he even acknowledges me. 

“You’re back early,” he says. 

“I wasn’t invited to linger,” I reply.

 Kaelis doesn’t ask. He doesn’t turn. Just pulls another arrow from the quiver and nocks it with practiced ease. I move closer, boots crunching on gravel. 

“They intercepted a message. From Evasia.” 

That gets his attention. 

Kaelis lowers the bow, slowly. “Go on.” 

I glance behind me, as if the shadows in the corridors might have ears. 

Maybe they do.

Then I say it. “They think Eiran might be working against us. Feeding information to sympathetic nobles. Helping to fracture the court from the inside.” 

Kaelis tilts his head, considering. “Do they have proof?” 

“A scroll. A dead courier. And the sharpest minds in the room whispering words like containment and leverage.”

 

He doesn’t flinch. 

He doesn’t look surprised. 

“They want me close to him,” I say. “To watch. To… assess.” 

Now he looks at me. 

And gods, I hate the look he gives me. 

Not because it’s cruel — but because it’s not. 

It’s just tired. Tired and knowing. 

“You asked me once if I’d follow you,” he says. “But Elira — you’re not leading right now. You’re circling a leash.” The words sting. 

Because they’re true. 

I rake a hand through my hair, pacing a few steps away. “He said he didn’t want this. That he wasn’t here to play a game.” 

“Then he’s either lying to you…” he says, stepping toward me, “or he’s lying to himself. Which one do you think is more dangerous?” 

I don’t answer. 

Because I don’t know. 

Because I’m not sure it matters. 

Because either way, they’ve placed me in his path like a knife left on a table, waiting for someone to pick it up. Kaelis stops in front of me, close enough to make my breath catch. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how this ends if you stay quiet.” 

“I’m not,” I whisper. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to say it out loud.” 

“Then let me say it for you,” he replies. “This is going to break something, Elira. Either him. Or you.”