Back at Alistair court, the morning air in the palace was annoyingly fresh, the kind that made Alistair's mood seem even worse by comparison.
He had woken up thinking about the party specifically, him.
Lucian Throne.
That infuriating, too-composed royal tutor who had looked him dead in the eye that night and dared to flirt like they were equals.
Alistair's jaw tightened as he leaned against the balcony rail, watching the servants bustle about the courtyards below. "What gave him the audacity? A stranger brought in from nowhere, barely escaped being executed, and now… smiling like he owns the damn palace?" he muttered to himself.
It wasn't just arrogance. There was something slippery about Lucian, something he couldn't quite pin down. And then there was Reniel.
Alistair's fingers drummed against the stone. "If anyone in this palace had the gall to kill Reniel and still walk around looking that smug, it'd be him." The thought stuck, sour and heavy, even as he pushed away from the balcony.
He decided a walk might clear his head. He didn't plan to go far, just enough to shake off the restless irritation gnawing at him. His feet carried him toward the Southern Quarters, the quieter side of the palace where fewer eyes lingered.
That's when he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, half-shielded by the angle of the garden wall, Lucian stood and opposite him, the Crown Prince himself.
Alaric.
Alistair narrowed his eyes, stepping back quickly to avoid being seen. He leaned just enough to catch the outline of their faces. Lucian was smiling not the polite kind, but the faint, sly curl that said he was enjoying himself. Alaric wasn't saying much, but he was listening with a straight face.
A memory struck Alistair like cold water, the day Lucian was ordered to be released. It was Alaric who had spoken the final word, Alaric who had shown a strange lack of interest in punishing him further.
"Oh, I see now…" Alistair whispered under his breath, watching them from behind the wall. "Maybe it's not just him. Maybe they're both in on it. Reniel dies, and suddenly this strange tutor is here, walking free. And my dear brother just happens to keep him around."
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense in that twisted, gut-level way paranoia often did.
He stayed just long enough to see them part ways before slipping back toward his own chambers, the seed of an idea forming.
By the time he reached his room, he has already calculate and thought out his plans and was then ringing the small bell on his desk to summon someone then a tall, broad-shouldered knight entered. He was one of the few Alistair actually trusted.
"You're going to watch someone for me," Alistair said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "Lucian Throne. Discreetly. And while you're at it, keep an eye on my brother Alaric. I want to know if they meet again."
The knight bowed slightly. "Understood, Your Highness."
"Do not be seen," Alistair warned, his voice low. "If he catches you, I want you to make him think it's a coincidence. But don't stop following him."
The knight left without another word.
************
Lucian was halfway through crossing the West Hall when he felt it that odd, prickling sense on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.
He didn't look back.
"Oh, nice," he thought to himself. "It's barely noon and I've already got my own shadow. This place really is a soap opera." He kept walking, turning left toward the long gallery. Footsteps echoed behind him steady, unhurried, but always there.
Lucian adjusted his stride, taking an unexpected turn toward the inner garden. The footsteps followed.
"I swear, if I turn around and it's just some lost servant, I'm going to feel stupid." He glanced sideways at a tall glass window, catching the faint reflection of a knight in plain armor. Not plain enough, though. The way the man kept his gaze fixed just ahead, pretending not to look at Lucian, was almost too deliberate.
Lucian smiled faintly to himself. "Alright, mystery man. Let's see how committed you are."
For the next few hours, he led the knight on what looked like an ordinary day crossing courtyards, stopping by the library, strolling past the barracks. Not once did he let on that he'd noticed. The game was much more fun when the other player thought they were winning.
By mid-afternoon, he decided he'd had enough. As he stepped out onto the quieter stone path near the outer wall, he slowed, pretending to fumble with the strap of his satchel until the knight came within a few paces.
Lucian turned suddenly, his expression mild. "Oh you again."
The knight stopped, clearly caught off guard. "Pardon?"
Lucian tilted his head, letting a small, almost sheepish smile play on his lips. "I just noticed… we seem to keep ending up in the same places. Same corridors, same gardens. Either we've got the exact same errands, or…" He let his voice trail off, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You've been following me, my dear mystery man."
The knight shook his head immediately. "No, sir. I'm simply on my usual patrol."
Lucian studied him in silence for a beat longer than was comfortable, then let his smile return, softer this time. "Of course. Silly me. I must just be imagining things."
As he stepped past, his gaze dropped briefly and there it was. A small patch sewn into the inner side of the man's arm guard. Blue and yellow.
"Ah, isn't this the colour of Alistair's court" Lucian thought, a spark of amusement curling through him. "He sent someone to spy on me, well two can play that game."
He didn't let his expression change. Instead, he gave the knight a polite nod and continued walking, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth once he was out of sight.
If Alistair wanted to play games, Lucian could play better.
And with that, Lucian disappeared into the next corridor, already plotting the next turn in the game.