Chapter Seven: The King’s Gaze
1259 Words
Natalia followed the guard in silence, the soft thud of her footsteps echoing off the marble corridors. Her heart still pounded—not from fear, but from the way Kalen had looked at her… touched her. The warmth of his fingers still lingered like a phantom against her skin, and though she tried to shake the moment from her mind, it clung to her like fog.
When they reached the throne chamber, the guard gave a curt bow and left her alone at the massive double doors. Natalia hesitated.
Why now?
The king had remained distant ever since she was brought to the palace—watchful, calculating, yet never close. His summons tonight, after such a tense day, could not be coincidence.
The guards pushed the doors open for her, and she stepped inside.
The throne room was dimly lit, torches flickering against the high-vaulted ceiling. King Alaric sat alone at the far end of the hall, dressed not in royal finery but in a dark tunic, as though he, too, had shed the weight of court theatrics for the night.
“Come,” he said, voice steady.
Natalia walked forward, each step deliberate.
“You’ve stirred quite the storm,” Alaric said as she stopped a few feet from his throne.
“I didn’t intend to,” she replied carefully.
“Intentions don’t matter in this place, girl. Only perception.” He studied her. “Tell me, why do you think I’ve allowed you to remain here?”
Natalia met his gaze. “Because I didn’t lie to you.”
Alaric’s mouth twitched slightly—whether in amusement or interest, she couldn’t tell. “That, and something else. I’ve ruled long enough to know when fate is at work.”
She said nothing.
He rose from his throne and descended the steps toward her. “There are whispers—about your presence, about Kalen, about what truly happened in the woods.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Natalia said honestly. “Not all of it.”
“But you know something.”
She hesitated. “There was light. Heat. I should’ve died… but something saved me.”
Alaric’s eyes narrowed. “Magic?”
“I don’t know.”
He studied her, then turned and walked toward one of the stained-glass windows behind the throne.
“You remind me of someone,” he said. “My sister.”
Natalia blinked. “You had a sister?”
“Had. She vanished the night I was crowned. Some say she ran. Others say she was taken.”
“And you?”
“I think she chose her own fate.”
He turned back to Natalia. “You have the same look in your eyes.”
A pause.
“I want you to remain in the palace under protection. Not as a guest—but as part of the royal court.”
Natalia’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll be trained. Watched. And if the gifts we suspect begin to surface—you’ll be expected to learn to control them.”
“And if I refuse?”
Alaric’s voice darkened. “Then I’ll have no choice but to treat you as a threat to the crown.”
Natalia felt the weight of his words like a blade against her neck. This was no offer—it was a warning.
“I understand,” she whispered.
“Good. You may leave.”
The next morning, Natalia found Mira already waiting in her room, holding two folded garments and wearing an expression that was half-excitement, half-concern.
“You’re being moved into formal court life,” she announced.
“I gathered,” Natalia said dryly.
“You’ll need to dress the part. Attend council sessions. Learn the rules.”
“And keep my mouth shut?”
Mira gave her a tight smile. “Exactly.”
Natalia changed into the soft blue dress Mira brought—it was modest but elegant, with silver threading along the cuffs and waist. She felt strange in it. Too polished. Too exposed.
“Try not to look like you’re going to war,” Mira said. “You look beautiful.”
“I feel like bait.”
“Same thing, really.”
Court life was both dull and dangerous.
Natalia spent the following days sitting through council meetings, listening to nobles bicker over land rights and taxes. She said little. Observed much.
Lady Alenia—the king’s cousin—watched her with eyes like ice. Lord Deyric remained cordial, but every word felt like a test. Others whispered behind their fans, casting her glances that ranged from curious to cruel.
But she never crumbled.
What kept her steady was the presence that drifted into her world like a shadow.
Kalen.
He never spoke to her during council.
Never acknowledged her in public.
But at night… he was always near.
Sometimes she’d catch a glimpse of him walking the training grounds alone. Other times, she’d hear his footsteps behind her in the halls, only to turn and find him gone.
It was maddening.
And it made her crave his attention all the more.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Natalia escaped to the stables.
The scent of hay and leather grounded her. She ran her hands over the soft mane of a silver mare, trying to ease the pressure that had coiled tight in her chest.
“You were right,” a voice said behind her.
She turned sharply—heart racing.
Kalen stood in the doorway, half in shadow.
“About what?”
“You look like bait,” he said, stepping inside. “But the kind that draws blood.”
Natalia let out a breathless laugh. “Careful, Your Highness. That sounds dangerously close to a compliment.”
“Not a compliment. A warning.”
She met his gaze. “Then why are you here?”
Kalen moved closer.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
She watched him, noting the tension in his jaw, the faint scar above his brow, the way he always stood just close enough to feel—but never enough to touch.
“I don’t trust this place,” Natalia said.
“Neither do I.”
“And yet, here we are.”
His eyes dropped to her lips again—brief, fleeting.
“I’m not supposed to want to know more about you,” he said.
“But you do.”
Kalen’s silence was answer enough.
She reached out, hand brushing his sleeve. “You don’t have to protect me.”
He caught her wrist gently. “Yes. I do.”
And then—softly, as though the air between them was too fragile—he leaned forward.
Their lips didn’t meet.
But they almost did.
And that almost was everything.
Before either of them could give in to the moment, the bells began to toll—sharp, urgent.
Kalen straightened instantly.
“Trouble,” he said, releasing her wrist.
Natalia followed him outside, heart still pounding.
The palace guards were already gathering in the lower courtyard.
A scout ran toward the throne room gates.
“Your Majesty—there’s been a break-in. Northern sector. The old chambers.”
Alaric’s voice rang out. “Was anything taken?”
The scout hesitated.
“No, Your Majesty… but the seal was broken. The one guarding the crypt.”
Natalia felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Something had been disturbed.
And whatever it was—she had a feeling it had everything to do with her.
- Writer
