Alric watched the courtyard from the high windows of the council chamber, arms folded, his jaw set in silence. Below, the horses were being prepared, guards repositioned, routines broken and rewritten.
All because of him.
Darian.
He had arrived with nothing but a handful of words and an unreadable face — yet somehow, the air in the palace had shifted. Quieter. Tighter. Sharper.
The man made no noise, yet every noble in the court had begun to mind their words. Every servant whispered more. Even Saren… changed.
He'd seen it — the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her smiles stretched longer, thinner. Her eyes lingered on doors longer than usual, as though expecting them to open without a knock.
Alric hadn't confronted her. Not yet.
Because a storm didn't always announce itself with thunder — sometimes it crept on velvet feet.
"My lord," came a voice. It was Sir Caelan, his most trusted knight and friend. "The king's man—Darian—has been watching the lower wings. Twice now, he's followed your wife's handmaid without cause."
Alric's brow furrowed. "What is he looking for?"
"Something he believes is hidden," Caelan said. "Or someone."
There was a long silence. Alric did not move.
"I want him shadowed," he finally said. "But carefully. He's not here to be obvious. He's here to see how far shadows stretch."
"And the Princess?" Caelan asked.
Alric turned his head, staring down into the gardens — where Saren stood beneath a blooming pear tree, Darian just steps away from her.
"Let her feel watched," he said, softly. "If there is truth between us… it will show when no one else is speaking."
.......to be continued...
Author's Note:
Velvet steps and watching eyes—Darian hasn't spoken much, but his presence has spoken volumes.
Alric isn't just a noble with a title anymore. He's a man walking the edge of something dark, something unseen.
And Saren?
She's standing in a garden blooming with secrets, petals falling like the countdown of a clock.
Every glance, every silence, every breath between them is beginning to matter.
This isn't just politics anymore.
It's a quiet war.
And no one knows yet who's truly holding the dagger.
—The author, watching the shadows lean in closer.