---
"Be careful, Sher. They don't trust what they can't guess."
"When they feel threatened… they remove the threat."
Sher raised her brows.
"…They?"
Her thoughts flickered. They.
Such a small word—yet it sent a chill crawling up her spine.
She could feel the storm hidden behind that word.
A weight. Heavy. Full of intent.
Not just one person… but a system.
A silent council.
Watching. Waiting.
Ready to strike the moment she stepped out of the role they carved for her.
A disaster waiting to bloom.
---
She stepped back, cloak swirling around her.
As she left, Cassian came into the room from behind the curtain.
"…She didn't bite. I'm almost impressed," he said dry.
He looked at Sher—expression unreadable. But something flickered there… respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
"Husband," Sher called, half-teasing. "She said I'm dangerous but interesting. Should I worry about my life?"
Cassian snorted softly. A real sound.
"That's the closest thing to a compliment you'll get from Elentra. If she thought you were really a threat, she'd have your maid poisoned and your wardrobe burned already."
He walked slowly toward her, arms crossed.
"But yes… you should worry. Not because she'll kill you—yet—but because she's watching now."
He stopped in front of her, tilting his head.
"Elentra doesn't waste time on dull women.
She only circles what's worth hunting… or helping."
Then, after a pause, deadpan:
"…And you just became both."
---
Sher tilted her head.
"Husband, tell me about your wife…
Was she strong? Did she use people or get used?
Who were her enemies? Who were her friends?
And… do friends become enemies if she starts loving her family?"
Cassian stared at her.
The room went quiet—so still, even the fire seemed to stop crackling.
His jaw tightened.
But it wasn't anger.
It was memory.
And something heavier.
"…My wife," he murmured.
---
"Yes, she was strong," he said slow.
"Not the kind that fights with swords…
But the kind that never bent, even when she should've."
He walked toward the window, speaking without turning.
"She used people. Ruthlessly. Efficiently.
She had no patience for weakness—not in others, not in herself."
"But she wasn't born like that. Nobility… her upbringing… made her that way.
Cold. Sharp. Untouchable."
He turned to face her. His eyes sharper.
"Her greatest enemy was vulnerability. Kindness.
Anything that made her feel exposed.
So she burned bridges before anyone could cross them."
"And yes—she had friends. Powerful ones."
His voice lowered.
"But they liked the version of her that didn't care about things like children. Or husbands. Or breakfast tables."
---
He walked closer again, voice even.
"If she truly started to love her family…
Her friends would call her weak.
And weakness, in this world, is something wolves smell fast."
He stopped just in front of her.
"So yes. They would turn on her.
Not all at once. But quietly. Carefully.
Like snakes sliding back into the grass."
---
A pause.
"…Is that who you're trying to be now?" he asked soft.
"A woman who loves her family?"
Cassian stared.
Silence stretched—not heavy with judgment,
But weighted with something else…
Understanding, maybe.
Or regret.
"…He used to cry outside your door," he said after a while.
"I told him to stop. Said it wouldn't change anything.
But he kept coming back."
He looked away, jaw tight, eyes on the floor.
"And now… he smiles.
Because of you."
---
He lifted his head. And this time, no coldness in his eyes.
Just something tired. Raw.
"I don't care who you are.
If you're not the Sher I married… good."
"But if you're going to be his mother now—really be her—
Then protect him from more than just the world."
His eyes hardened slightly.
"Protect him from the people who think love is weakness."
He turned toward the door. Paused.
"…And if you ever need protection yourself…
Don't wait too long to ask me."
---
Sher blinked. Then said soft:
"You can ask me too…
I might not help much…
But I can listen if you need someone to talk to."
Cassian stopped mid-step—almost disbelieving.
"…You'd listen to me?"
He opened the door. Voice gentler now. Less iron.
"Careful, Sher…
If you keep talking like this…
I might start thinking you're someone worth trusting."
He stepped out.
This time… left the door slightly open.
---
Palace Hallway – Morning
Sher walked quiet and sure through the east corridor.
The Head Maid—sharp-eyed older woman—hurried beside her.
"My Lady… forgive me, but… giving coins to all the staff and asking me to tell them you want their trust… it's—"
She lowered her voice.
"—unusual. Especially from you."
---
Sher stopped outside servants' wing.
"They'll take it, yes," Head Maid said careful. "But it'll cause talk."
Sher nodded.
The Head Maid hesitated… then nodded. She turned and set the order in motion.
---
Servants' Quarters – Later That Day
Maids whispered as they counted coins from the steward.
Silver gleamed in their palms—something never given freely.
"I heard she hit her head so hard it knocked hate out of her," a young maid whispered.
"More like knocked her brain out. She's smiling at children now," an older maid said.
"She said thank you to me yesterday… thank you! I almost dropped the bread!" the kitchen girl added.
They laughed. Nervously.
Like something unnatural was happening.
And they didn't know which way it'd go.
---
Main Hall – Next Day
Every maid, servant, steward stood quiet, lined up before the grand staircase.
The hall buzzed uneasy.
Sher appeared—simple, but regal.
Her steps echoed. She stopped at the center.
"Everyone is here, My Lady," Head Maid said.
Sher looked out.
"You know why I give this money, right?" she said.
"I'm not just giving money.
I'm giving trust."
"If anyone feels untrustworthy…
Return the money and leave the palace now."
She paused.
"I won't say it again."
Silence fell.
"Anyone want to leave?" she asked again, firm.
---
Whispers stirred.
"She's serious," someone murmured.
"I think she's watching… she means it," said another.
One maid clutched pouch. Another hesitated.
"No one wishes to leave, Duchess," Head Maid said.
Sher nodded.
"After what I'm going to say… some might change minds."
Her eyes swept them.
"If I find poison in food… or burning wardrobe…
The culprit will be untrustworthy."
"And after her death… family repays the money… with interest."
"Still wanna stay? Think hard."
---
Hall froze.
"I-I wish to leave, My Lady…" one older maid stammered.
"I… I don't want to live in fear," young kitchen maid said, tearful.
Two more stepped forward.
"Leave with dignity," Head Maid said stern. "Say nothing. Duchess showed mercy."
"If you protect palace and son like this… I'll stay," said tall maid firm.
Others nodded one by one. Mood shifted.
"Rats left, My Lady," Head Maid said. "Those left want to serve."
Sher nodded slowly.
"Good. Now… trust me too.
If anyone threatens your family—come to me."
---
"There's a reason you work at palace," she continued.
"Some for parents.
Some for children.
Some for husbands."
"To me, you're all strong.
You bear hardship for your family."
"You're as strong as any soldier on battlefield."
"Work here proud—as women who protect their own."
"No one stronger than woman who loves family."
"Let's protect families… together."
---
Wave of emotion passed.
Some wiped tears. Others stood straighter.
"…They will follow you now," Head Maid whispered.
"Truly."
Cassian watched from shadows.
"…You're not building a home," he murmured.
"You're building an army."
---
Private Study – Late Evening
Cassian stood by moonlit window.
Sher entered silent.
"…That speech wasn't for servants," he said without turning.
"For palace. For snakes.
You gave them something dangerous—faith."
"Keep going… and they might really start following you."
Sher met his gaze.
"They follow me—good," she said.
"But what about you?"
"Still watching… or walking beside me?"
Cassian quiet.
"Years alone," he said at last.
"Standing beside someone…
Means being seen.
Means being responsible for more than your own shadow."
"So it's a no, then," Sher said. "Good night."
"…It's not a no," he said soft.
"Just… don't know how."
Sher paused at door.
"It's okay," she said soft.
"I'll ask again… when you know how."
She left.
Cassian watched door long after it closed.