Night fell over Eldenmark like a velvet curtain, dimming the cheers that still echoed faintly from the grand arena. The city had not slept since the duel. Taverns overflowed, minstrels sang of Sir Daren's victory, and storytellers exaggerated the clash by the hour.
But inside The Crest, the great marble palace where the Empress lodged during diplomatic events, silence ruled.
Not peace.
Silence.
The kind that comes before a storm.
---
The Walk Back to the Chambers
Lysandra walked through the corridor's golden light, her strides elegant as ever, but her pulse unsteady. Daren followed a respectful distance behind her, helmet tucked under his arm, his hair still damp with sweat from the battle.
Every guard and attendant they passed bowed deeply to her—and then stole a second look at him.
The whispers had reached even the palace.
A noblewoman murmured, "They say she almost embraced him."
Her companion whispered back, "And that he looked at her like she was sunlight."
Daren heard.
Lysandra heard.
Neither reacted.
Serene, of course, reacted enough for everyone. She slowed her steps and leaned toward Daren.
"Sir Daren, do you always inspire such… dramatic devotion from royalty?"
Daren blinked, unsure if she was teasing or interrogating. "I inspire only duty, my lady."
Serene smirked.
Lysandra nearly stumbled.
Only duty.
Why did that strike harder than it should?
---
In the Empress's Chambers
When they reached her private chambers, Lysandra dismissed the attendants with a wave. Serene followed her inside, dragging Daren in as well before he could object.
"You saved our entire kingdom today," Serene said, collapsing onto a cushioned seat. "We owe you a feast. No—several feasts."
Daren bowed his head.
"Feasts are unnecessary, my lady."
Serene groaned.
"He's humble. Why are all the heroic ones always humble? It's terrible for gossip."
Lysandra removed her golden mantle and placed it on the stand, revealing the softer ivory gown beneath. Only then did she turn to Daren fully.
"You fought with a precision I have never witnessed," she said quietly. "Not even among the royal guard."
Daren met her gaze—and quickly looked away. "Your Majesty, I acted only to protect Valenfirth."
"Protect me," she corrected, before she realized the words had escaped.
Serene's mouth opened in delight.
Daren froze, stunned.
Lysandra inhaled sharply and turned toward the balcony, hiding the warmth climbing up her neck.
"I—I mean to say… you served the Empire well."
"Of course," he said softly, his voice gentler than she expected. "It is my honor."
Serene watched the exchange with sparkling eyes. "Oh this is going to be fun," she whispered to herself.
---
The Threat Unfolds
A sudden knock.
Captain Rhedon, head of palace security, entered with a sealed parchment. His expression was grim.
"Your Majesty, we intercepted this message in the northern district. It bears King Mavren's personal cipher."
Lysandra's composure returned instantly.
"Read it."
Rhedon unfolded the parchment.
"'Phase One will proceed as planned. Ensure the shadows move before dawn.'"
Serene's eyes narrowed. "'Shadows'? That sounds very assassin-y."
Lysandra's jaw tightened. "Mavren has lost face. A man like him retaliates not with diplomacy—but with blood."
Daren stepped forward. "Your Majesty, permit me to double the guard and investigate the northern district."
She faced him fully. "No. You will stay by my side."
Daren hesitated. "But—"
"That is not a request."
Silence.
Serene's gaze flicked between them. "Oh… oh this is really going to be fun."
---
A Moment on the Balcony
Later, when the chamber quieted and Serene retired to her rooms, Lysandra stepped onto the balcony overlooking Eldenmark's midnight lights. Daren followed, stopping at a respectful distance.
She didn't turn, but she spoke.
"You think I should have let you go investigate."
"Yes," he said. "My place is on the field, not in your chambers."
Wind swept her hair across her face as she looked at the moonlit city.
"You think too little of your worth, Sir Daren."
"I know my worth, Your Majesty. It is as your shield."
She exhaled softly. "And if the shield is taken… the sword falls next."
He stepped closer—just close enough for her to feel the steadiness of his presence.
"I will not fall," he said.
She turned slightly, meeting his eyes through the dim silver light.
"Promise me that."
"I swear it," he said. "On my life."
For a dangerous moment, nothing existed but the two of them.
Then—far in the distance—three faint bell chimes echoed.
Daren stiffened instantly. "That's the northern watchtower signal."
Lysandra's heart dropped. The message.
The shadows.
"They've already begun," she whispered.
He drew his sword.
"Stay behind me, Your Majesty."
But she shook her head.
"No. Tonight… we face this together."