The morning after the feast, the atmosphere in the royal palace had shifted. The veiled pleasantries and false smiles were gone, replaced by open suspicion and icy glares. The Vexin were no longer a curiosity; they were a threat. Every eye on Damon was a challenge, every averted gaze a silent accusation. The war of words had begun in earnest, and the battlefield was the polished stone corridors of the royal court.
Damon felt the change like a physical blow. He walked with Isolde through a courtyard, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his jaw set in a hard line. He was a man of action, and this new kind of combat, one without a clear enemy or a single blow, was a slow, torturous poison.
Isolde, however, moved with an eerie calm. She saw the tight smiles of the minor nobles and the way they would stop talking as she and Damon passed. She saw the whispers, like venomous insects, spreading through the court.
"It has begun," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "The Queen and the King are spreading rumors. The court believes you have returned to the capital to form a rebellion, to rally the disloyal lords to your cause."
Damon's rage was a hot coal in his gut. "They are lying," he growled. "I have come to honor my King. They twist the truth and spread their venom. I will not stand for it."
He stopped, his fists clenched at his sides. "I will confront them. I will call out these liars and tell them the truth."
Isolde placed a calming hand on his arm. "No, my Lord. That is what they want. They want you to break your composure, to act like the brutish warrior they believe you to be. It would confirm their lies. We must not fight this with a sword. We must fight it with their own weapons."
Her eyes, which had grown so much sharper in their time together, held a fierce resolve. "We need an ally. One who knows this court better than anyone. Someone we can trust."
She led him to a small, private chapel, a place where no one would dare interrupt them. Waiting inside was a woman Damon recognized from Isolde's past—Lady Elara's former lady-in-waiting, a quiet, observant woman named Seraphina. Isolde had told Damon of her—a woman of deep faith and a keen mind, who had been a mentor and a friend.
Seraphina's face was thin and pale, but her eyes held a surprising warmth. She curtsied to Damon and embraced Isolde with genuine affection. "You were right to be careful, my Lady," Seraphina whispered. "The Queen has been poisoning the well since you returned. She is telling anyone who will listen that you are a traitor, that the Galen marriage is a sign of a new alliance against the throne."
"But why?" Damon asked, his frustration simmering. "We have done nothing but serve the King."
"Because you are a threat," Seraphina explained, her voice low. "The Queen has many relatives in positions of power. She wants her family's line to rule forever. Your marriage to Isolde, a princess of the royal family, makes you a legitimate rival to the throne. If the King and Queen were to die, you would have a claim. She fears you because you are a stronger man than her husband, and she sees Isolde as a greater mind than her own. She wants to remove you from the game before you can even begin to play."
The truth of it was a bitter pill. Damon and Isolde had been playing a game they didn't even know they were in, all of it orchestrated by a woman who saw them not as people, but as obstacles to her family's power.
"What is her next move?" Isolde asked, her voice calm and focused.
"She is arranging a royal hunt in the King's woods," Seraphina said. "She will invite you, Lord Vexin. She will try to isolate you from your guards, to make you vulnerable. She will find a way to have an 'accident' befall you."
Damon's hand instinctively went to his sword. This was a battle he understood, a physical threat he could confront. But Isolde shook her head.
"No," she said. "We will not give her that satisfaction. We will go to the hunt, but we will not play her game. We will show them that we are not afraid. And we will make a move of our own."
She looked at Seraphina. "The King is arranging a new trade deal with the southern lands, is he not? One that is unpopular with the northern lords."
"Yes," Seraphina replied, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "He wishes to tax their harvests and give the coin to his southern allies. The Queen is pushing for it."
Isolde's gaze returned to Damon, her eyes burning with a new plan. "Then we will make a show of loyalty to the King, one that will undermine the Queen completely. We will publicly declare our support for this new trade deal, but with a slight adjustment. We will propose that the tax money go not to the King's allies, but to the rebuilding of the northern lands. We will show the King that we are loyal, while also solidifying our power base in the north and winning the support of the northern lords. We will be heroes in the eyes of the people."
Damon listened, a slow smile spreading across his face. She was not a warrior, but she was a general of the highest order. She was fighting a war he didn't know how to fight, and she was winning it with her mind, not her sword.
He took her hand, his expression filled with a new kind of admiration. "Let the Queen have her hunt," he said, his voice a low, confident rumble. "We will be there. And we will give her a battle she will never forget."