Part I – The Embers of Court
The court had scattered like birds at dusk. Candles guttered, goblets lay abandoned, whispers drifted out into the corridors with the courtiers who carried them. Rowan lingered, his smile still fixed, though his jaw ached with the weight of it.
The Duke had dismissed him with nothing more than a glance, but Rowan had felt it—the watching eyes, the tightening snare. He had drawn too much notice.
Still, triumph gleamed sweet. Serenya's gaze lingered longest, unreadable. She did not laugh, nor scorn, nor whisper. She only watched.
And behind her shadow, Rowan had felt another gaze: cold, crimson, unyielding.
Darius Vale had left without a word.
Now, as Rowan stepped into the outer courtyard, the cool night pressed against his skin, and there—by the fountain of broken angels—Darius waited.
His crimson cloak snapped in the wind. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
"Serpent," Darius said, voice low and steady. "No laughter here. No guards. No father's throne to shield you. Only us."
Part II – Fang Meets Claw
Rowan's smile flickered, then steadied. He approached slowly, boots clicking against wet stone.
"You think I need shields?" His voice was silk, amused. "No, my lord Vale. I need only your pride. It carries you farther than I ever could."
Darius stepped closer, steel rasping as he drew his sword. The moonlight kissed the blade, turning it pale as bone.
"Draw, bastard."
Rowan tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back. "What, and stain my doublet with your sweat? I'd rather keep it clean."
The words hit like sparks, but Darius did not lunge. Not yet. His breathing was heavy, steady, controlled. The wolf was learning patience.
Rowan's smile dimmed for the first time. He could not provoke Darius into foolishness. Not tonight. His hand itched toward the dagger hidden beneath his cloak—not for a duel, but for one strike, swift and unseen, if the wolf lunged.
"Careful, my lord," Rowan murmured. "If you bear steel here, you may not sheath it again."
"Good," Darius said. His knuckles whitened on the hilt. "Then one of us will leave this place silent forever."
Part III – The Interruption
The courtyard's silence tightened.
Their eyes locked, the fountain's broken angels looming like witnesses to sin.
Then—footsteps.
"Enough."
Serenya's voice cut the night clean in two. She stepped from the archway, her dark gown whispering over the stone, her gaze cold as frost.
"Do you both crave death so badly?"
Darius's jaw clenched. He did not lower his blade.
"This is no concern of yours, my lady."
Her laugh was soft, but it bit like glass.
"No concern? Strike here, and every whisper of Rowan's wit will become legend. They will not remember your blade—they will remember that you could not defeat his smile. The Duke will hang you, and Veloria will laugh while you swing."
Darius froze. The blade trembled in his grip.
Rowan smiled, venomous. "Listen to her, wolf. She has more wit than your whole house combined."
Darius swung—only an inch, only enough for Rowan's cloak to flutter as the blade cut the air. But it did not land.
With a curse, he sheathed his sword. The sound was sharp as thunder. Then, with deliberate malice, he dragged the edge across the stone pillar beside him, leaving a scar that shrieked through the courtyard.
"This is not over." His voice burned with hatred. "When steel meets steel, serpent, there will be no lady to save you."
He turned, crimson cloak vanishing into shadow.
Part IV – The Unseen Duel
Silence returned. The fountain's trickle sounded like blood.
Rowan exhaled, only now aware of the tightness in his chest. Serenya's gaze did not leave him.
"You smiled," she said softly. "But your hand was on your dagger."
Rowan straightened, mask sliding back into place. "A serpent's fangs are always hidden. Even from those who think they see."
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. She left as quietly as she had come, her presence lingering like smoke.
Rowan turned to the fountain, watching the broken angels spill their endless water. His reflection wavered in the pool, fractured, uncertain.
The wolf would not wait forever. One day, steel would meet steel.
And when it did—Rowan whispered to his reflection—
"I will not be the one who bleeds."