The Winterbell castle gardens were cloaked in silver light. The moon hung full above the horizon, casting soft illumination over the trimmed hedges and dew-kissed roses. Flynn stood at the center of the courtyard, silent as the breeze stirred his white hair.
He was alone or so he thought.
"Is moonlight your companion tonight, Your Highness?"
Flynn turned. Khalid emerged from the shadows near the marble archway, his silhouette sharp and dark against the pale glow. His black hair was loosely tied back, and without his armor, he looked softer almost too human.
Flynn didn't speak immediately.
"You walk softly, Duke."
"I've learned it's useful. Especially in courts with so many ears."
Flynn's lips twitched. "And yet you still speak."
Khalid stepped closer, unbothered. "Only when the audience is worth it."
Flynn met his gaze directly. "What do you want?"
Khalid didn't answer at once. Instead, he looked up at the moon.
"I once stood in gardens like these," he said, voice quieter now. "Far from here. In a land that doesn't exist anymore."
Flynn's pulse slowed. "Elaris."
Khalid's golden eyes flicked toward him, surprised barely but not enough to crack his composure.
"You've studied the histories, I see."
"I've lived long enough to recognize ruin when I see it."
Khalid stepped beside him, close but not touching.
"And what do you see when you look at me, Your Highness?"
Flynn hesitated.
A question that struck far too close.
He saw the blade, the betrayal. The black and gold armor drenched in Caelan's blood. The eyes that once looked down without hesitation…
But also
A warmth, flickering strangely, inexplicably, like a candle refusing to die.
"I see a man who hides behind perfect posture and careful smiles," Flynn said, voice cool but low. "A man who chose power over people."
"Not power," Khalid corrected, turning to him. "Survival."
"And yet you thrived," Flynn said, almost accusingly.
"I adapt." Khalid's smile was small. "Is that a crime?"
Flynn looked away. "It depends who you ask."
They stood in silence, two figures from different lives neither truly belonging where they stood.
After a long moment, Khalid spoke again.
"Is there something about me that unsettles you, Your Highness?"
Flynn looked at him sharply. "Should there be?"
Khalid leaned in, just a breath closer. His voice dropped into something softer, more intimate.
"You look at me like you know something I don't."
Flynn didn't answer.
Because he did know something Khalid didn't.
He knew what his dying face looked like reflected in those same golden eyes.
He knew the sound of betrayal and the taste of blood.
But he also knew this man no longer looked at him with hatred.
And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.
Khalid finally stepped back, leaving only cool air between them.
"I'm always available to speak, Your Highness," he said, tone returning to its usual calm. "Should you ever tire of silence."
Flynn watched him walk away, a tension coiled in his chest.
For all his lies, Khalid spoke with the ease of a man who no longer feared the truth.
And Flynn was no longer sure which one of them held the sharper blade.