Volume 1 — Chapter 4: The Council's Shadow
The first light of dawn crept across the palace, painting the Marble Hall in pale gold. Lyriana sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the empty space where Aryn had been the night before. Every whisper of the wind seemed to carry his voice, every shadow hinted at his presence.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. "Enter," she called, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.
Grand Advisor Marovain stepped in, his eyes sharp as obsidian. "Princess," he said, voice low. "You were seen wandering the gardens last night. This palace is not a place for unsanctioned meetings."
Lyriana's pulse quickened, but she kept her expression calm. "I was… meditating. The gardens help me focus."
Marovain's gaze narrowed, as if he could see through her. "The Shadowmarked has been brought to the lower cells," he continued. "He will be questioned today. The council is eager for answers. You must stay within your chambers. No exceptions."
She nodded, hiding the turmoil inside. But a part of her rebelled. Aryn was not just a prisoner—he was the key to a prophecy no one believed, and the man she was beginning to care for.
Later that day, while the council convened, Lyriana slipped through the palace corridors, moving with the stealth of a shadow. The lower cells were cold, damp, and filled with the scent of stone and fear. Aryn sat on a bench, chains binding his wrists. His eyes lifted when he sensed her.
"You came," he said softly. "I thought… I would be alone in this."
Lyriana knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "I couldn't let them—"
"Princess, you risk everything for me," he whispered. "If anyone sees you…"
"I don't care," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "Not anymore."
A fleeting moment passed, charged with forbidden desire and unspoken promises. Then a loud clang echoed through the corridor. A guard was approaching.
Aryn grabbed her hand, whispering, "You'll need to be braver than you know. The empire is not as safe as you think… and I am not the only danger you will face."
Lyriana's heart pounded. The shadow of the council, the prophecy, and their growing love pressed against her like a storm. And yet, with every stolen glance, every whispered word, she knew the same truth: their fates were intertwined, and no law or throne could tear them apart.
As the guard's footsteps drew near, Lyriana squeezed Aryn's hand. Whatever comes next, she thought, I will not let him face it alone.