**Chapter Nineteen: Shadows at the Border**
Peace, we learned, was never quiet for long.
Two months had passed since the Harvest Banquet and the traitors' purge. The kingdom began to bloom again—slowly, like a flower unsure if the sun would stay. Fields were growing green. Markets busier. Courtiers quieter.
But peace is fragile.
And shadows always gather at the edges.
This time, they gathered at the northern border.
The raven came at dawn.
Its feathers streaked with dust, its scroll sealed in dark wax—the mark of General Sorek, the northern commander and one of the few men Lorenzo trusted without question.
I stood beside Lorenzo as he broke the seal.
His brows furrowed with each line he read. His jaw clenched tighter.
"What is it?" I asked.
He handed the scroll to me.
> Movement spotted near the High Cliffs.
> Armed men. Unmarked banners.
> Not raiders. Disciplined. Silent.
> They camp just beyond the frost line.
> We've sent scouts. One returned half-dead.
> They're watching us. Waiting.
> Orders, my prince?
Lorenzo turned to me. "They think we're still weak."
"Are we?" I asked softly.
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
* * *
Within the hour, he was in the war chamber with his captains. I followed, uninvited but unquestioned.
"We leave by dawn," he declared. "Two hundred soldiers. Silent march through the pines."
"Recon or confrontation?" one captain asked.
"Both."
Another captain turned to me. "Your Highness, shall we prepare accommodations for you in the capital while the prince rides north?"
Lorenzo glanced at me.
I stepped forward.
"I ride with him."
Silence.
"Your Highness—" the captain began, uncertain.
Lorenzo raised a hand. "She goes."
The captain bowed.
Elira caught up with me later as I packed.
"You're not a soldier," she said.
"I'm not staying behind."
"You could die."
I looked her in the eye. "So could he."
She didn't argue after that.
* * *
The northern ride was brutal.
I wore a fur-lined cloak, but the wind still cut through me like blades. The trees here whispered differently—low, warning, ancient.
We rode in silence most of the time.
Lorenzo's expression never changed. Focused. Cold. But I caught the small things—the way his hand stayed close to his sword. The way his eyes scanned every ridge, every bend, every moving leaf.
He didn't relax.
Not once.
We camped each night near fire and snow. Soldiers whispered of ghosts. Of northern beasts that fed on flesh. I didn't believe them. But I kept a dagger under my pillow anyway.
On the fourth night, we reached the cliff's edge.
And we saw them.
Tents—neat rows—lined the valley. Black. Unmarked. Dozens of them. And sentries.
Lorenzo swore under his breath.
"This isn't a raid party," he said.
"No," I agreed. "It's an army."
* * *
We set up a vantage point under heavy cover.
Scouts reported that the enemy did not move at night, but posted rotations. They were too disciplined to be wanderers. Too quiet to be barbarians.
And the worst part?
They bore no flag.
No sigil. No declaration.
That meant they had nothing to lose—or something to hide.
"We need to send a warning to the capital," Lorenzo said. "If this turns to war—"
"It won't," I cut in.
He looked at me.
"Let me go to them."
"What?"
"I'll request a parley."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because they'll kill you before you get ten feet from their lines."
"Or they'll listen to a woman who doesn't ride with a blade in her hand," I said. "If they're hiding something, they won't want the first blood drawn here."
He was quiet.
I stepped closer.
"If we attack first, it becomes war. But if I go alone—unarmed—they may hesitate. That's our edge."
"You're asking me to risk your life for a hunch."
"I'm telling you that my life is already at risk if this war starts."
We stared at each other.
Then finally, he exhaled.
"You get one shot," he said. "One."
* * *
At dawn, I rode down the slope on a pale horse, cloak wrapped tightly, hands open to show I bore no weapon.
Behind me, hidden in the cliffs, two archers kept their bows trained on me in case anything went wrong.
The enemy camp stirred as I approached.
Figures emerged.
Men. Women. All in black.
One stepped forward.
A woman—tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in armor that looked foreign. Her face was lined with scars, but her eyes—her eyes were sharp as fire.
"You're bold," she said. "Riding alone."
"I came to talk."
"Talk to whom?"
"To the one in charge."
She studied me.
"You are?"
"Zara. Wife of Prince Lorenzo. Queen of the realm you're camped outside."
"And I'm Iselda. Commander of the Free Blades."
"Never heard of you."
She smirked. "Good. That means we've done our job."
* * *
We sat inside her tent.
Warm. Smelling of pine smoke and leather.
She offered me stew.
I declined.
"You're camped two leagues from the crown's land," I said. "Armed. Hidden. You know what that looks like."
"We're not here to invade," she said.
"Then what are you doing?"
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"A decision."
I narrowed my eyes. "Whose?"
"Yours."
* * *
What she told me chilled my blood.
The Free Blades were mercenaries. Trained. Nomadic. Not loyal to any crown. But they weren't here to fight—yet.
They were here because of something worse.
They'd been hired.
Not by a kingdom.
But by a group of exiled nobles and foreign traders—people who had once profited from the Thorn Circle. People who wanted the new regime to fall.
"They offered us gold, land, titles," she said. "We refused."
"Why?"
"Because we don't serve tyrants."
"Then why stay?"
"To see what kind of queen you are," Iselda said.
* * *
I returned to the cliffs that night and told Lorenzo everything.
"She's testing us," I said.
"She could be lying."
"She's not."
"She could still attack."
"She won't."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I need time," he muttered.
"You need trust."
He looked at me.
"You trust her?"
"I trust that she didn't kill me when she had the chance."
* * *
The next morning, Lorenzo rode down to meet Iselda himself.
They didn't shake hands.
But they spoke.
Long.
Quiet.
Direct.
And at the end of it?
The Free Blades packed their camp and rode east.
No blood.
No war.
No victory songs.
But a line had been drawn.
And we had won.
Because we chose restraint.
* * *
When we returned to the capital, the court was stunned.
Rumors flew—of war averted, of mercenaries tamed, of a queen who rode to face death alone.
I didn't correct any of them.
Let them whisper.
Let them wonder.
I had done what no one expected.
And that… was more powerful than any crown.