The tension that had been simmering beneath the palace's polished surface finally erupted like a storm breaking over the sea.
It began with a whispered warning delivered by a breathless servant — an assassination attempt was planned against Kael during the upcoming royal feast. The news hit me like a thunderclap. Every instinct screamed urgency and danger.
That night, the grand hall was a glittering sea of nobles dressed in their finest, the chandeliers casting a radiant glow over the polished marble floor. Music floated through the air, a deceptive harmony masking the undercurrents of treachery.
Kael stood at the center, regal and composed, but I could see the tension taut in his jaw, the sharpness in his eyes.
I remained close, my heart pounding with every step, every glance from the crowd. The air felt thick with menace.
Suddenly, as the orchestra swelled, a figure slipped from the shadows toward Kael — a dagger glinting faintly in the flickering candlelight.
Time slowed. I lunged forward, grabbing the attacker's wrist just as the blade aimed for Kael's chest. A gasp rose from the crowd.
Chaos erupted.
Guards flooded the hall, seizing the would-be assassin. Kael's eyes met mine — a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, more fragile.
Later, in the safety of the private chambers, he took my hands in his. "You saved me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I owe you everything."
But I knew the danger had only just begun. The palace's shadows had grown darker, and the web of deceit tightened around us.
We had survived the first strike — but the war was far from over.