The Vexin fortress, still warm from the celebrations of the wedding, was now a hive of strategic preparation. The Queen's invitation was not a summons to a party, but a challenge to a game of high stakes, and Damon and Isolde were meticulously planning their every move.
In the solar, Damon's massive hand traced a line on a map of the capital, his brow furrowed in concentration. Isolde stood beside him, her knowledge of the court's treacherous waters proving to be their greatest weapon.
"We will not ride with an army," Isolde stated, her voice firm. "A large force would be seen as an act of aggression. It will give them the reason they need to strike. We will go with a small retinue—twenty of your most loyal knights, dressed not for war, but as an honor guard."
Damon nodded, trusting her judgment implicitly. "And you will be my shield, just as I will be yours. You will see the traps they lay in the feast halls and the subtle words they speak in whispers."
"And you will see the daggers in their smiles," she replied, a small, grim smile on her face. "You will be seen as the proud, strong Lord of the Borderlands, and I will be seen as a devoted wife who has found her place. We will show them that we are not broken."
Their preparation was not limited to themselves. They met with Arion and Lysa, who now stood as a united pair.
"While we are gone," Damon said to his brother, "you will be the Lord of this house. Keep the borders safe, the men well-fed, and the fortress secure. Trust in Lysa's mind. Her understanding of coin and commerce is more valuable than any sword in a siege."
Arion, no longer the sullen, skeptical man of weeks past, nodded with a new sense of purpose. He looked at Lysa, who placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "The House of Galen will be our eyes in the free cities," she said, her voice clear and confident. "We will have news of the king's movements and the supply chains that feed his armies. He will not make a move without us knowing."
Damon and Isolde left the fortress at dawn. As they rode away from the rough-hewn stone walls, a silent understanding passed between them. They were leaving their home, their shield, and their newfound family behind, and venturing into a place of elegant lies and hidden daggers.
As the spires of the capital city appeared on the horizon, Isolde reached out and took Damon's hand. He squeezed it tightly, his thumb brushing over her skin. This journey was not like her first, a trip of fear and uncertainty. This time, she was riding into the belly of the beast, but she was not alone. She was riding with the man she had come to love, and together, they were a house that would not be broken.