Darcien paused at the threshold of the inner corridor.
For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind—clear, instinctive.
My chambers.
They were closer. More secure. Guarded by those loyal only to him. No wandering eyes. No unnecessary whispers.
His grip tightened slightly as he adjusted her weight.
Then his gaze lifted.
Servants lined the hall, heads bowed, movements precise. Too precise. He had grown up among them; he knew the difference between discipline and watchfulness.
There were eyes here that did not belong to him.
The queen's influence did not end at the palace gates. It crept through halls, hid behind lowered lashes and silent obedience. He would be a fool to believe otherwise.
If he took her to his chambers now, it would be noticed. Interpreted. Twisted.
And Princess Elowen—bold, strange, infuriating as she was—did not deserve to become another piece on the queen's board.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
No.
He did not like her. She tested his patience, spoke without caution, touched without thought, slept without shame.
But he would not place her in harm's path.
Not deliberately.
"Prepare her chamber," he said quietly, voice carrying just enough authority to cut through the stillness.
"Yes, Your Highness," a maid replied at once, stepping ahead.
Darcien adjusted his hold and continued down the corridor, ignoring the subtle shift in attention that followed him. He did not look left or right. He did not need to.
The chamber door was already open when he arrived.
Soft candlelight glowed within. Familiar. Neutral. Safe enough.
He stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind him.
Only then did he slow.
He lowered her carefully onto the bed, movements controlled despite her limp weight. When he tried to withdraw his arm, her fingers tightened instinctively, clutching at his sleeve.
He stilled.
For a second, he considered waking her.
Then she murmured something again—nonsense words, half-formed, the sound barely more than a breath. Her brow furrowed faintly, as if caught between dreams.
He gently eased her hand away, one finger at a time.
She did not wake.
Darcien straightened, stepping back.
He studied her for a long moment.
Human. Soft. Far too fragile for the world she had been dropped into.
And yet—
She had moved without hesitation when the blade had risen behind him.
She had struck without thinking.
She had killed to protect someone she barely knew.
That was not the behavior of a sheltered princess.
Nor of a coward.
"Troublesome," he murmured quietly.
He turned away and motioned for the guards stationed outside to take position.
"Do not let anyone enter without my command," he said flatly.
"Yes, Your Highness."
As he left the chamber, the door closing softly behind him, Darcien's expression hardened—not with irritation, but with resolve.
Whatever game the queen was playing, Princess Elowen would not be its easiest piece.
And whether he liked her or not, he would not allow her to be broken under his watch.