Part I – The Gathering Storm
The Duke's court swelled with noise as Veloria prepared for the Harvest Council—a gathering where lords boasted of their wealth, squabbled over grain levies, and plotted against one another under the guise of a festival.
Rowan moved through the chamber like a shadow gilded in light. His doublet was plain but cut to perfection; his words as soft as honey, his laughter as sharp as broken glass. Every eye sought him now, every whisper bent around his name.
And yet, another presence thickened the air.
Darius Vale. Crimson cloak sweeping behind him, chin lifted high, jaw locked as if clenched against the memory of shame. His return to court had been long-awaited, and rumor said he came sharpened, tempered by his family's scorn.
Two predators had entered the same garden.
The chamber felt smaller for it.
Part II – The Lady Between
Rowan found her first—Serenya Marlowe, draped in black silk that drank the candlelight, her eyes watchful and unreadable. She was a mirror with no reflection, a mask behind which no mask could be seen.
"Lady Serenya," Rowan said, his bow precise, his smile devastating. "Veloria shines dimly beside you."
She tilted her head. "Does it?"
Rowan chuckled softly, leaning closer. "You wound me. You see too much, and yet you pretend to see nothing at all."
Before she could reply, another voice cut through, deep and hard as steel.
"Careful, serpent," Darius Vale said, stepping into their circle. "The lady may mistake your poison for flattery."
Serenya's gaze shifted between them. No smile. No favor. Only silence—her stillness like a blade balanced on edge.
Rowan's smile did not falter. "Ah. The wolf bares his teeth. How fortunate—we need such creatures in Veloria's hall."
"Better a wolf than a snake in the grass," Darius growled.
The air between them tightened. Nobles nearby paused their laughter, sensing the charge of a storm before lightning.
Serenya alone seemed unmoved. "Gentlemen," she murmured, her voice smooth as glass. "Be careful. The council is a garden—and in gardens, both wolves and serpents risk the hunter's snare."
She slipped away, leaving silence where her shadow had been.
Part III – Sparks Without Fire
The council unfolded in debates of levies and grain, but beneath the words ran a different duel.
When Darius spoke of duty, Rowan praised compassion—forcing him to sound harsh.When Rowan praised mercy, Darius thundered of law—making Rowan appear the more cunningly gentle.Every phrase sharpened against the other, every glance a blade.
The nobles drank in the spectacle, murmurs spreading like wildfire. Some leaned toward Darius, drawn by his strength, his unyielding defiance. Others whispered of Rowan, his wit, his grace, the way he made even cruelty sound like love.
The Duke said nothing. He watched with hooded eyes, sipping wine, the faint curl of a smile tugging his lips.
When the council adjourned, Veloria was split—not in decision, but in loyalty.
Two names had been branded into every mind.
Part IV – The Crossing of Shadows
The hall emptied, torches guttering low.
Rowan lingered in the corridor, gazing into a tall mirror. His reflection smiled back, radiant and venomous."They are already mine," he whispered. "Even the wolves' growl only drives them closer to me."
Elsewhere, beneath the crimson banner of his house, Darius stripped his cloak and drew steel, slashing at the air until sparks flew."He hides behind words," Darius growled. "But one da,y words will not save him. One day, the serpent will face the wolf."
Neither saw Serenya Marlowe upon the balcony above the court, her gaze fixed on the emptiness below, her thoughts veiled.
She alone had stood between them.And she alone knew—when serpent and wolf met in truth, Veloria itself would bleed.