'Edevane?'
Josselyn glanced at the badges on the two men's chests, the same crest, different colors.
A fraction of a second was enough to conclude, one kingdom. Yet if they were brothers, blood alone was not enough to make their faces resemble each other.
"Your name…"
"I'm Josselyn," she replied, a little awkwardly. It felt strange to introduce herself after nearly witnessing bloodshed.
"Oh," Howarth's smile widened. "Thank you for making this year's banquet more interesting."
Josselyn shifted uncomfortably, unsure what the silver-haired man meant.
"My brother simply enjoys dangerous situations," Sebastian said casually.
"I just don't like boring parties," Howarth added with a chuckle. "Like the previous years."
Howarth looked at Josselyn. He stepped half a pace closer, leaning in toward her ear.
"But it seems my decision to attend was the right one. To see that infamous ruthless Crown Prince draw his sword," Howarth whispered. "And strangely, only for you."
Her breath caught. For a moment, Howarth's dangerous aura felt unmistakable, and oddly enticing.
"Your Majesty!"
A voice broke her focus. She turned toward the throne. The Queen was no longer in her seat. Josselyn immediately ran over.
"Your Majesty, is there—"
A splash of blood stained the Queen's hand, and the same liquid trickled from her mouth.
Josselyn froze.
If the Queen died tonight, all eyes would turn to her.
"We must take Her Majesty back to her chamber immediately," Yorick whispered.
"But how? So many people are watching…"
Suddenly, a large shadow fell over them, covering Josselyn, Yorick, and the Queen.
Josselyn turned. Killian stood with his back to them, blocking the guests' view.
"Take the Queen to her chamber now," he ordered.
Without hesitation, Josselyn and Yorick lifted the Queen, aided by the guards, carrying her quickly back to her room.
After that, Josselyn knew nothing of what happened in the grand hall. She spent the entire night tending to the Queen.
~
"I don't want to see him."
Josselyn stopped at the edge of the corridor in the Queen's Wing. Both her hands held a tray with a vial of potion and a small bowl of water. She had just hurried out of the Queen's chamber after hearing from the guard that Killian was coming to visit his mother.
Yorick glanced at her. "You haven't seen him since the banquet."
"That was intentional."
"Why are you avoiding him?"
"After that night…"
She gripped the edge of the tray so tightly her fingertips turned pale.
The memory of Killian's blade still burned in her mind. The chaos of the banquet. The furious Head of the Council. The whispers in the hall growing louder.
"My duty is to focus on the Queen's health," Josselyn said, shifting the topic.
"But that night, if the Crown Prince hadn't blocked the guests' view, there could have been greater chaos. Your life would have been at stake."
Josselyn exhaled heavily. Yorick was right.
She knew exactly where she stood. If the people, even other kingdoms, learned that the Queen's condition had worsened since Josselyn arrived, accusations would surely fall on her.
Yorick looked at the tightly shut doors of the Queen's chamber, guarded by two knights.
"In the palace, a subordinate's life is fragile."
Yorick lifted his hand, then flipped it quickly, as if dropping something. "It rolls into the hands of those in power, and then… gone. Dead."
The smile on Yorick's face made Josselyn shiver.
'How can he speak about death so casually?' she thought.
Yorick chuckled at the fear on his young assistant's face. "You'll get used to seeing terrible things here."
Josselyn pursed her lips, lowering her head. "I don't want to get used to terrible things."
Her words were half true, and half not. She had entered this palace for revenge, but not by swinging a blade at everything in sight.
For now, she needed only one thing, Killian's trust. And that was more lethal than any reckless revenge.
The moment his name crossed her mind, Killian himself appeared at the end of the corridor.
Josselyn stiffened. "He's coming."
Her steps slowed for a moment, as if steadying the sudden pounding of her heart.
She was not afraid of Killian's gaze. She was afraid of herself, of thinking about him too often.
She quickly lowered her head, grabbing the back of Yorick's robe to hasten her steps.
As they passed Killian, she bowed too deeply. As if by doing so, she could avoid not only his gaze, but her own feelings. Then she turned and hurried after Yorick.
~
The night air was cold. She stood by the quiet lakeside garden, watching the moonlight shimmer across the water.
"I thought if I avoided him, I'd feel calmer. But what is this?" She struck her head in frustration. "He keeps appearing in my thoughts!"
Now she stood with her hands on her hips. Her eyes caught sight of a fairly large stone. An impulsive idea formed instantly.
She stepped back, lifted her right foot, preparing to kick the stone into the lake. Instead, her foot caught against the other.
"Ah—"
Her eyes widened in alarm as she felt herself tipping toward the water, until a hand grabbed the back of her dress.
The strong pull sent her falling backward, straight into someone's arms.
"Hey, careful."
The voice was soft and light.
And fragrant. That was the first thing her senses noticed.
Josselyn opened her eyes. A silver-haired man stood behind her, his hair tied low. His face was striking, with large amber eyes, a sharp nose, and naturally red lips.
"How long do you plan to hold her like that, Howarth?"
Another voice spoke. Josselyn quickly pulled away from Howarth.
"I'm sorry," she said, bowing slightly.
"So clumsy, and heavier than you look," Howarth remarked, brushing off his sleeve as if to smooth it.
Josselyn lifted her head, her brows knitting in irritation at his words.
'How rude,' she shouted inwardly.
Howarth laughed. "Your thoughts are loud."
Josselyn's face flushed instantly, as if she had been caught red-handed.
"Stop teasing her," Sebastian nudged Howarth's shoulder. "You're making her panic."
Howarth shrugged. "Sorry. Your frustration drew me here. It was quite intense, even from afar."
Sebastian glanced at Josselyn, as if debating whether to ask.
"Is it because of the sudden 'heat' in the palace?" he asked at last.
Josselyn blinked in confusion. The night air was cold, in stark contrast to his words.
Howarth leaned casually against a tree, one leg crossed. Sebastian stood beside him, straight, composed, expressionless.
"I don't understand, sir," Josselyn answered honestly. "But… why are you both still in the palace? The banquet ended days ago."
"We still have trade matters in Valenroth," Howarth replied lightly. "And King Alaric has allowed us to stay here for the time being."
Sebastian looked straight at her. "You spend a lot of time in the Queen's Wing."
"I'm assigned here," Josselyn answered briefly.
Howarth smiled. "Oh, have the rumors from the central court reached this far?"
His question sparked her curiosity.
"What rumors?"
Howarth raised a brow. "The Crown Prince is in serious trouble."
"You should know. You were there," Sebastian added, his tone slightly sharp.
Josselyn's fingers curled. Her instincts returned to the sword incident in the hall.
"Is that old man making demands?"
Howarth shrugged. "He controls half the southern routes for salt and cloth."
He smiled faintly.
"Half the salt that preserves the people's food, and half the cloth that covers the nobles' bodies."
Sebastian continued calmly,
"If he withdraws his support, Valenroth won't starve… but it will be shaken."
Josselyn fell silent. "He didn't die."
"Alive or dead doesn't matter to the Council," Sebastian said flatly.
"As long as the Crown Prince bows."
Josselyn twisted the fabric of her dress, then clenched it until deep creases formed.
"Will he apologize?"
Howarth chuckled. "He would rather cut out his own tongue."
Josselyn closed her eyes. "That will make things worse."
"Exactly," Sebastian said. "And the Queen realized that this afternoon."
Josselyn stiffened. She already knew what narrative would spread next.
"And all because the Crown Prince defended a traitor's child," Josselyn said softly.
Howarth's smile tilted. "He's very good at reading situations."
Sebastian shot him a sharp glance. "Howarth."
"What?" Howarth raised his hands. "I'm complimenting him."
"Josselyn!"
Someone called her from a distance.
"It seems we should take our leave," Sebastian said, pulling Howarth away.
"Josselyn!"
The voice came closer. Josselyn turned. It was Yorick. The thirty-four-year-old man was slightly out of breath when he reached her.
"Sir Yorick, what is it? Why are you running—"
"The Queen…" Yorick cut in between breaths, "she's vomiting blood again. We need to make that herbal potion again. Can you increase the dosage?"
Josselyn froze. It felt as if a massive weight had been placed on her shoulders.
She had not even been in the palace for a month, yet she already faced two choices.
Lose her chance for revenge, or lose her head.