“We’ve had no movement at the border,” said Captain Loric, a commander of the Nythran guard. He stood with his helm tucked under his arm, armor dulled by dust and long hours. “Three days. No skirmishes. No provocations.”
“No border silence lasts this long,”Kael muttered.
“No,” agreed Corin, arms crossed. “And not from Calanthe.”
Beside him, Riven grunted. “Either they’ve gone soft, or they’re plotting something that makes all this quiet worth it.”
Kael said nothing for a moment, letting the tension settle across the council like ash.
Then his voice sliced the air.
“And what of the messages sent from our gates?”
“Intercepted,” Loric said. “Or rather… followed. Our spies tracked down their drop point, a fort on the western edge of the borderlands near the river’s edge, no more riders shall cross to their kingdom from the location."
“So,” he said coldly. "we've successfully cut off Calanthe from their spies — for now? .”
A murmur of unease rippled through the room.
Valea, silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice was not soft — it was the sound of stone cracking. She hadn’t been listening to the conversation at hand — only lost in thoughts that now boiled over from a barely contained hurt.
“You realize she was our daughter, did our loyalty not earn us mercy by your hand.” she said, not looking at him.
Kael met her words with a gaze that did not flinch. “She was a traitor.”
Draeven shifted beside her, but did not speak. His silence was his answer.
“She would’ve seen this kingdom fall,” Kael added. “Would’ve sold every secret for a fantasy she clung to like a child clutching a broken toy.”
“She wanted your affection,” Valea hissed. “And when it was not hers, she blamed the one who stole it.”
Kael didn’t respond.
They all knew Maris had not stolen anything. She had been chosen — claimed by him.
“She was executed swiftly,” Draeven said at last, his voice low reminding his wife of the king's mercy.
Kael nodded.
“We burned her body,” he said flatly. “And scattered the ashes over the cliffs. Let her soul be the gods’ problem now.”
Valea did not look at him again.
After the council adjourned, Kael stood alone in the stained glass light. The chamber was empty, but the echoes of that meeting clawed through his skull.
No skirmishes at the border. No sudden movements. Just silence — thick and unnatural. The kind that meant something worse was building. Not arrows in the night. Not blades. Something deadlier
Alarik was waiting in that silence —scheming. It ate away at Kael that he didn't know exactly what was coming
-Maris-
The morning light crept through the tall windows like a guilty thing, soft and golden and entirely unwelcome.
Maris stirred beneath the thick velvet covers, her skin still warm from Kael’s arms, her body aching in that quiet, delicious way only he could conjure. But it wasn’t the warmth that lingered in her chest, it was him.
Not Kael. But the one from her dreams.
It had started subtly. A flicker of eyes that weren’t Kael’s. A laugh in the wind that made her spine tense. A voice speaking her name in tones too smooth, too low, too… wrong.
