The morning mist coiled through the gardens like breath held too long. Saren walked the familiar stone path in silence, flanked by two royal guards — a new addition, courtesy of her brother.
They weren't her guards.
They were watchers.
Spies dressed in armor and respect.
She didn't question it. That would only confirm what the Crown Prince suspected: that her loyalties had shifted.
A letter had come three days prior from the capital, sealed with her brother's crest. Short. Formal. Cold.
"Eyes are always watching. Even in the house of your beloved."
She had crumpled it in her fist and burned it in the brazier.
But she understood the message perfectly.
She was under trial now — not by sword or crown, but by patience. And her brother, ever the tactician, had released his most silent hunter.
Darian.
He had been her brother's right hand since they were children — a man of no titles, no land, only shadows and quiet violence.
And he had arrived in the Duke's court today.
"Your Grace," Darian bowed low as she entered the west chamber. His voice held the same unreadable tone she remembered from childhood — neither servant nor noble, merely… instrument.
"You've grown sharper," Saren said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
He rose, eyes cold. "And you've grown clever, Princess."
There was no bow when he said it. No smile. Just the unspoken warning that sat heavy in the air between them.
He studied her, stepping closer.
"Tell me, do you love him?"
The question landed like a slap. Blunt. Unwelcome.
Saren didn't flinch. "Love is a soft word in a world ruled by steel."
Darian tilted his head, amused. "So that's a yes."
She turned away, the folds of her gown whispering secrets as she moved. "Tell my brother what he wants to hear. But do not mistake my kindness for loyalty."
Darian's smile was razor-thin. "Kindness?" he echoed. "Princess… we are far beyond kindness. This is war disguised in velvet."
As he walked away, Saren exhaled slowly — and her hand pressed against her bodice where a letter lay hidden, written not to her brother…
…but to the High Lords of the East.
........to be continued.....
Author's Note:
Ah, velvet and venom — isn't that Saren's specialty?
With Darian now stalking the halls like a shadow with teeth, our Duchess dances a finer line than ever.
One misstep, one wrong whisper… and it's not just her crown at risk. It's her heart.
And let's not forget —
She's not playing for survival. She's playing for everything.
Meanwhile, Alric watches. Waits.
Loves her still, even as the storm gathers in silence.
Stay close, reader. The noose is tightening.
– With ink-stained fingers and a wicked grin,
Your author.