—The Hall of Judgment, Dawnlight—
At first, no one knew why they had been summoned.
But when the three nobles—Lord Veyron, Lady Cessia, and Sir Harnel—were marched into the Hall of Judgment by black-cloaked guards, whispers rose like thunder.
The nobles had come with smug expressions.
They left pale.
At the high dais, Crown Prince Kaelion sat on the throne-like judgment seat, dressed not in ceremonial garb but in his black military uniform. No crimson today. Only the color of night.
And beside him—though slightly lower, as etiquette dictated—sat Princess Elira, wearing a gown of storm-silver threaded with blue. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp as any blade in the chamber.
She hadn't wanted this. Not publicly.
But Kaelion had insisted. And the entire court came to see what the prince would do when someone threatened his wife.
"Do you know," Kaelion began, voice smooth and cold, "what I hate more than disloyalty?"
The three nobles didn't answer.
"Cowards who whisper poison behind silk curtains," he continued, standing slowly. "Those who smile at my table and draw knives behind the veil."
Lord Veyron finally spoke. "Your Highness, we were only—"
"Plotting harm against my wife." Kaelion's voice cracked like ice splitting across glass. "In my court. Under my roof."
"She is a foreigner," Lady Cessia hissed, her voice trembling. "We feared her influence—"
"Then you should have feared me more."
With a single gesture, the guards dragged the nobles forward.
"Strip them of their council seats," Kaelion ordered. "Freeze their assets. And exile them from the capital by nightfall."
Gasps echoed.
"But Your Highness, surely—" Sir Harnel began.
Kaelion descended the dais in two swift steps, stopping inches from him. "If you remain past dusk, I'll make your exile permanent."
The nobles collapsed into pleading and weeping as they were dragged away. Not a single person rose to defend them.
And Kaelion turned back to the court, eyes blazing.
"Let it be known," he said, voice deadly quiet, "any threat to the Crown Princess is a threat to the throne itself."
Then he turned to Elira—and for the briefest second, something flickered in his gaze. Not warmth.
But something protective. Dangerous. Possessive.
Elira rose with him, the room still humming with stunned silence.
As they walked out together, the court parted like waves before them.