—Later That Evening, Hall of Whispers—
Elira had only heard of the place in rumors—a side chamber beneath the Great Council room, where deals were struck in shadows and words twisted sharper than blades. She hadn't meant to find it.
But she had overheard a noble mention it during the morning court.
And now she was here.
Hiding behind a velvet curtain, breath shallow, heart steady.
Inside, she recognized the voices of three nobles—Lord Veyron among them.
"She's more dangerous than we thought," Veyron hissed. "Already half the court speaks of her composure. Even the outer nobles are sending gifts."
"She's not here for power," another said. "She's too soft."
"Softness is a lie," a third snapped. "She's bait. The kind that wraps around a dagger."
"And Kaelion?"
"Unmoved, but not untouched. You saw him yesterday—he didn't shut her down in court."
There was silence. Then a chilling statement.
"Perhaps the girl needs a reminder of her place. A small… accident. A warning."
Elira's fingers clenched around the fabric. Her blood iced.
She slipped away before they could hear her breath catch.
—That Night, Kaelion's Private Study—
She stormed into his study without knocking.
Kaelion looked up from his desk, brow raised. "Bold."
"I heard your nobles plotting against me in the Hall of Whispers," she said without preamble. "They plan to harm me."
He didn't even blink.
"And you barged into my chambers because…?"
Her anger rose. "Because I assumed the man I married might care that someone is trying to kill me."
He stood then, slow and controlled. "If someone wanted you dead, you'd already be buried. This is court, not war. You've made waves. You'll earn cuts for it."
"That's your response? Let them try?"
Kaelion walked toward her, gaze sharp. "You told me you didn't need protection. You wanted to be seen as strong."
"I want to live," she snapped. "And you—" Her voice trembled with fury. "You don't even see the pieces moving around you, Kaelion. Your own court is rotting, and you're so obsessed with control, you're letting it happen."
His jaw tightened. "I control what matters."
"No," she said. "You control nothing if the people closest to you are already whispering betrayal."
A beat of silence.
Then—his voice dropped. Cold. Measured.
"Do not mistake fear for power, Elira."
"And don't mistake your crown for invincibility."
Their eyes locked—fire against ice. And for a moment, it was no longer about danger or politics or duty.
It was about them.
A prince who had never trusted anyone.And a princess who refused to bow.
Then Kaelion said quietly, "Give me the names."
Elira blinked. "What?"
"The ones you heard. I'll deal with it."
Something in his tone changed. Not rage. Something far more dangerous—protective.
Elira stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to protect me?"
"I'm going to make an example," he said, gaze dark. "No one touches what's mine."