Where trust breaks down, shadows move, and the knife silently waits. Watchful eyes might not be protective, and swearing hearts might be dishonest. Where loyalty is concealed, the dynasty trembles. * —The Moonlit Prophecy, Part XII
Serenya sensed only tension, but the palace hummed with life. There were whispers in every hallway, and every servant's look was like a hidden blade. Although the rain had stopped, there was still a lot of storm debris in the air—storms that were dangerous even though they lacked fire and lightning. She was unable to sleep. Eryndor's shadows were longer than the walls themselves, Kaelen's severe watchfulness pressed down on her, and Lyrian's confession tormented her. Duty had triumphed over desire. The fire of Lyrian's love had been pushed away by her. However, she had a feeling it wouldn't stay contained.
She summoned her Guardians to a private meeting that morning. Kaelen was the first to arrive, her armor shining and her face unreadable. Silently, with eyes downcast but smoldering with unspoken longing, Lyrian followed. Last but not least was Eryndor, who slipped in like a shadow, the corners of his lips quivering slightly, mysteriously. "You have put yourselves to the test," Serenya said firmly, "and I will test you again. Not against adversaries outside the walls, but against one another, against loyalty and truth. Kaelen's mouth clenched. "My Queen, what do you want from us?" With deliberate words, she said, "Tell me everything." "Everything you fear, everything you conceal. Let us not keep any secrets from one another. There was silence in the room. Lyrian's warm, beseeching eyes briefly met hers. Serenya, I don't have any secrets. You can command me.
However, Kaelen's lips formed a thin line. And I won't say anything that puts your safety in danger. You don't have to accept every truth. The shadow of Eryndor drew nearer. "My Queen, some truths are dangerous. even for you. --- Though Lyrian was careful not to mention the nights when he had crept outside the palace alone, he did divulge some information, such as who he had spoken to and where he had been. He pretended to be attending to minor tasks, tending to injured guards, or keeping an eye on distant watch posts to hide his absences. Kaelen responded completely, but some of her remarks were judgmental, implying that decisions
Although Kaelen gave a thorough response, some of the words were tinged with judgment, suggesting that choices had been made without her knowledge. The omissions were more significant than any accusation, even though he did not say anything negative. As usual, Eryndor withheld everything, revealing just enough to avoid suspicion while stoking skepticism about the smallest details. Serenya's thoughts were racing. There will be a betrayer. There will be a betrayer. Cold and cautious, her heart started to put pieces together that she didn't yet understand. A messenger showed up that night with a sealed note in a tasteful, well-known handwriting. She ripped it open. You underestimate the strength of your crown. Under loyalty, allies may conceal daggers. Trust is a weapon, not a gift. No signature. Her heartbeat accelerated. She presented her guardians with the note.
Kaelen's forehead wrinkled. "This poses a risk. My queen, someone is putting us to the test. Lyrian's gaze darkened. "Or cautioning you." Eryndor's mouth curled slightly. "Or teaching you to see things you don't want to see." She was uneasy about the message, but the silent conflict amongst the three Guardians was even more dangerous. There seemed to be meaning in every look, every pause, and every slight hesitation. --- Serenya started to notice little betrayals in the days that followed. The words of a manipulative councilor were oddly prophetic. Kaelen appeared unusually vigilant against imaginary dangers. Usually kind and advising, Lyrian's counsel occasionally pushed her in the direction of choices that caused political conflict. Eryndor moved more covertly, his shadows growing longer around her as though he was protecting something he didn't want to show.
Every action was doubly significant. Any gesture could be seen as either betrayal or loyalty. She put them to the test by giving them directives with unintended consequences. Kaelen complied with orders promptly, but occasionally his choices made her reevaluate every tactic—not in a malevolent manner. Lyrian meticulously followed her directions, but his little lies about who he saw and what he saw started to create an incomplete picture. Eryndor remained unreadable, seemingly working in her favor, subtly influencing events from behind the shadows. --- Serenya saw something one night that made her heart race.
She watched from the window of her chamber as Lyrian whispered something to a gray-clad figure. Although she was unable to understand the words, the leaning forward, the hand gestures, and the secrecy all pointed to a plot. He turned, and they looked at each other across the yard. A faint, almost guileless, almost charming smile crossed his lips, but Serenya felt a chilling twinge of suspicion. Had she miscalculated him? Had love made her oblivious to reality? Her pulse thumping, she backed away from the window. Shadowed by the moonlight, Kaelen silently materialized at her side.
"You watched," he said quietly, stating the truth without making any accusations. "I did," she said softly. "And I have no idea what I saw." Kaelen said, almost softly, "Then you already suspect." She looked away. "Yes." He stopped talking, abandoning her to the cold of doubt. --- Eryndor came up to her in private the following day. "My Queen," he muttered, "not everyone in service is who they seem to be. Where light is afraid to go, shadows twist. Serenya's chest constricted. "And who are you referring to?"
His lips curled into a faint smile that seemed to be a question. I'm not sure. But watch out for people whose loyalty is the easiest to believe. More deeply than any sword, the words struck. There was nothing there when she looked at him, her shadow, her guardian, the person she had trusted most. Only shadow and silence. She started to realize that betrayal had started during that silence. There was no violence. Not yet. It was heartfelt. Her choices were influenced without her knowledge by the hushed words, subtle lies, omissions, and well-chosen phrases. Someone she believed she could trust, or whom she loved, had already begun to act against her. And the cold and patient shadow of the prophecy loomed: One will betray. One will betray.
Serenya sat by herself that evening, the crown unaltered by her side. Lyrian entered the room with warmth and devotion, appearing soft and begging. "My Queen," he said, "I am yours, regardless of any doubts you may have. My heart belongs to you. You have my oath. Nevertheless, she flinched. For she recalled the gray figure in the silence, the unsaid. The whispered discussion. The slight smile. The darkness had roused. Furthermore, the first act of treachery had already started. She couldn't yet face it and didn't know who it was. However, she was aware that love was a danger, trust was a weapon, and the dynasty shook on the brink of invisible blades.