Chapter 13
371 Words
A secret council of nobles — including Maris and Lord Halric — meet in the shadows.
“She is gaining favor with the people,” Halric growls. “Too fast.”
“Then we slow her down,” Maris replies. “Or stop her entirely.”
Plans begin to form: sabotage, staged betrayal, poison in her name. They want the king to lose trust in her.
Selene uncovers part of the plot. Not all. Just enough to know: Ava is walking a tightrope — and someone is shaking the wire.
It was past midnight. The moon hung pale above the palace, casting silver shadows through Ava’s window. Her maids had long since left, and the fire in the hearth crackled low.
Ava stood by the mirror, brushing out her hair in silence. Her silk nightdress shimmered in the firelight, and her thoughts drifted—to Kaelen’s hand in hers, his eyes in the tower, the old promise buried beneath his crown.
Then she heard it.
A soft scuff of leather on stone.
Too soft for a guard.
Too late to cry out.
A black-cloaked figure burst from behind her wardrobe curtain, dagger raised. Ava reacted on instinct—flinging the silver brush toward him, dodging back, grabbing for the decorative sword mounted above her bed. It was dull, ceremonial.
But her rage was sharp.
“You dare?” she hissed, steel flashing in the dark.
The assassin lunged. The blade caught her arm—a searing pain—but she twisted away and struck him hard across the jaw with the hilt.
He reeled. She screamed.
The chamber doors exploded open.
Kaelen was first through them, sword drawn, shirt half-unlaced as though he had come running from his own sleep. His eyes locked on the figure.
One breath later, the man was on the floor, blood blooming beneath him.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees beside Ava, hands shaking as he pressed cloth to her bleeding arm.
“You’re hurt,” he breathed.
“It’s nothing,” she said, wincing. “Just a scratch.”
“It could’ve killed you.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He stared down at her wound like it had personally insulted him.
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