The palace reeled in the wake of the attack. Guards doubled, nobles muttered, and the king's fury shook the halls.
Adrian's father cornered him in the Hall of Ancestors. "You let the guard captain shame you," Alden thundered. "A king cannot lean on another man for strength—least of all one beneath him!"
Adrian's voice cracked, but he held his ground. "Caelan saved my life. Without him, I would be dead."
"That is his duty," Alden snapped. "Your duty is to Eloria—and to a queen who will give it heirs."
The words cut deeper than any blade. That night, Adrian met Caelan in secret once more. The guard's touch was fire and comfort, but Adrian pulled away. "We cannot," he whispered, tears burning his eyes. "If they learn the truth, they will destroy us both."
Selene faced her own battle. When Elara's family was accused of collusion with the assassins, she stormed into the throne room, defying even her father. "This is madness! Elara is no traitor, nor is her house!"
The court gasped at her boldness, but King Alden's glare was unyielding. "Be silent, Selene, or you will bring ruin upon us all."
Dorian, meanwhile, was caught with Lord Marcus and Lady Cressida in a scandal that spread like wildfire. Yet behind his careless smirk, he carried the memory of what he'd seen: a noble ally of his father speaking with assassins. He held the truth close, waiting for the right moment to strike.
And then came the messenger, breathless, armor scorched. "My king—the northern border burns. War is upon us."