Alexander's POV
The council chamber smelled of ink, burning oil, and tension. Heavy tapestries muffled the outside world, but inside, every voice seemed too loud, too sharp, too ready to tear into flesh.
Alexander sat at the head of the long oak table, his fingers curled against the armrest of his chair. His crown, heavy and cold, pressed against his temple, a reminder that weakness had no place here.
"Your Majesty," Lord Draven said smoothly, bowing with just enough deference to mask the venom beneath his words, "rumors reach even the servants' halls. That the east wing's seal has been broken."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Alexander's eyes cut to Draven, dark and steady. "Rumors are a poor substitute for truth. Do you make a habit of chasing them, Draven? Or only when they suit your purpose?"
The corner of Draven's mouth twitched, but his voice remained even. "I only seek clarity. If the seal was broken, the council must be informed. For the safety of the realm."
Lies, Alexander thought bitterly. Draven wanted a crack, a foothold. He wanted to know why Alexander had been forced to open that vault. And who had been with him.
"The realm is safe," Alexander said flatly. "And the east wing remains under my command alone. It is not the concern of this council."
Draven inclined his head, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He had planted the seed. The others shifted uncomfortably, their curiosity sharpened.
Another lord cleared his throat. "Still, Your Majesty, if relics within the east wing hold danger—"
Alexander's fist hit the armrest, silencing him. "Danger does not come from relics. It comes from men too eager to whisper and conspire." His gaze swept the table, daring any to contradict him. None did.
But Draven's silence was louder than any argument.
Inside, Alexander's chest burned. He could still feel Sophie's fingers brushing against his when he took the book. Still hear her trembling voice asking about Seraphina. And now Draven, circling like a wolf, already smelled blood.
Alexander leaned back, forcing his features into a mask of indifference. "This session is over. If I require your counsel, I will ask for it."
He rose, cloak sweeping behind him, and left the chamber before anyone dared to breathe another word.
But as he walked the shadowed halls, the mask began to crack again. His thoughts went back to Sophie—always, relentlessly, back to her.
She was no ordinary girl. And Draven knew it.
That made her both a weakness… and a weapon.
Sophie's POV
Sophie sat by the tall window of her chamber, staring down into the courtyard where soldiers marched in perfect lines. The walls felt closer now, tighter than before.
Two guards stood permanently stationed outside her door. Servants entered and exited with lowered eyes, their silence louder than any gossip.
She could feel it. The shift.
It wasn't just that Alexander was watching her more closely—it was that everyone else was too. She was no longer invisible. She was marked.
Eira paced the room, her hands wringing the fabric of her apron. "They've doubled the patrols. And it's not just any guards—they've put the king's personal men outside. He doesn't trust us anymore."
Sophie's chest tightened. "Or maybe he trusts us too much," she said quietly. "Enough to know we're dangerous."
Eira froze, staring at her. "That isn't protection, Sophie. It's a cage."
The words sank deep, and Sophie looked away, her eyes drifting back to the courtyard.
She remembered the vault—Alexander's shadow enveloping her, his voice threading through her veins. She remembered the way he'd taken the book from her hands.
And now she remembered his warning: You will not set foot in this wing again.
Her jaw clenched. He could lock her in these chambers, surround her with guards, drown her in suspicion—but none of that would stop the questions clawing at her chest.
Seraphina. The prophecy. The book.
Sophie pressed her hand flat against the cold glass of the window. Somewhere deep down, she felt it—the truth was close, so close she could almost reach for it.
And she wasn't ready to stop.
Eira came to her side, her voice low. "Then we'll have to be cleverer than him. And quicker than Draven. Otherwise…"
Sophie met her gaze. She didn't need her friend to finish the sentence. Otherwise, she would be swallowed whole by both of them—king and viper alike.
But as the torches in the courtyard flickered to life with nightfall, Sophie knew one thing with terrifying certainty.
The tighter Alexander tried to hold her, the more she wanted to break free.