Morning came too quickly.
And not quickly enough.
Rowan had not moved.
Not from his position.
Not from the place where everything had… changed.
The room still carried the faint warmth of the night before—the echo of something neither of them had spoken about since.
The kiss.
If it could even be called that.
A mistake.
That was what Cassian had said.
And yet—
Rowan's jaw tightened slightly.
Mistakes were not supposed to linger.
This one did.
---
"Still standing there?"
Cassian's voice cut through the silence.
Rowan turned.
The prince was already awake, seated at the edge of his bed, dressed in dark silks, his expression as composed as ever.
Too composed.
As if nothing had happened.
"As instructed," Rowan replied.
A pause.
Then—
Cassian stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He walked toward him.
And Rowan—
Didn't step back.
Didn't move at all.
The distance between them closed.
Too easily.
Too naturally.
For something that should have changed everything.
"You're avoiding me," Cassian said quietly.
Rowan met his gaze. "I'm standing where I always stand."
"That's not what I meant."
Silence stretched.
Tight.
Uncomfortable.
Dangerous.
Rowan's voice was steady. "Then clarify."
Cassian's eyes darkened slightly.
"You haven't said a word about last night."
"Neither have you."
A pause.
Then—
Cassian smiled.
Faint.
Sharp.
"Do you want me to?"
Rowan didn't answer.
Didn't look away.
Didn't give him anything.
And that—
That seemed to please him.
"Good," Cassian murmured. "Then we understand each other."
No.
They didn't.
And they both knew it.
---
The council chamber was already full.
Heavy voices filled the room, layered with tension and quiet urgency. Nobles gathered around the long table, their expressions tight, their movements controlled.
Word of the attack had reached them all.
Now—
They wanted answers.
Rowan stood behind Cassian's chair, silent as always.
Watching.
Listening.
Learning.
"Another attempt," said a man seated near the head of the table. His voice was deep, measured. "This cannot continue."
This was Lord Marcellus Viremont, the Minister of War—broad-shouldered, grey-haired, his presence commanding.
"It won't," Cassian replied calmly.
Marcellus's gaze sharpened. "You say that every time."
"And every time, I survive."
A few nobles shifted uncomfortably.
"Survival is not strategy," another voice cut in.
Rowan's gaze flickered.
A woman this time.
Sharp-eyed.
Elegant.
Dressed in deep crimson.
Lady Seraphine Duvall, Head of Intelligence.
"Someone inside this palace is feeding information to your enemies," she continued. "That is no longer speculation."
"It never was," Cassian said.
"Then why," Seraphine pressed, "are they still alive?"
Silence.
Cassian leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Because," he said smoothly, "they haven't made a mistake yet."
A pause.
Then—
"They did last night," Marcellus said.
Cassian's gaze flickered briefly.
Not to the nobles.
But to Rowan.
"Not enough of one," Cassian replied.
Rowan felt it.
The attention.
The weight.
But he didn't react.
---
"And what of him?"
The voice came from across the table.
Light.
Smooth.
Too familiar.
Adrian.
Rowan's gaze shifted.
Lord Adrian Valmere leaned casually against the back of his chair, one hand resting against the polished wood.
His eyes were on Rowan.
Of course they were.
"You place a great deal of trust in a man no one here knows," Adrian continued. "That's… unlike you."
Cassian didn't respond immediately.
Instead—
He rested his chin lightly against his hand.
Watching.
Measuring.
Then—
"He's proven himself."
"With blood," Adrian said softly.
A faint smile.
"Impressive."
Rowan didn't move.
But his instincts sharpened.
Adrian wasn't just observing.
He was testing.
Pushing.
"Where did you find him?" Adrian asked.
"Does it matter?"
"It does when he stands closer to you than anyone else in this room."
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Rowan felt it immediately.
The shift.
The tension.
Cassian's expression didn't change.
But something in the air—
Did.
"You're asking too many questions," Cassian said.
Adrian smiled.
"And you're not answering enough."
A pause.
Then—
Cassian leaned forward slightly.
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Controlled.
"Be careful, Adrian."
The room went still.
Because that—
That wasn't a warning.
That was a threat.
And Adrian knew it.
He held Cassian's gaze for a moment longer.
Then—
He leaned back.
Relaxed.
Smiling.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
But his eyes—
They didn't leave Rowan.
---
The meeting ended without resolution.
Which meant the danger remained.
Unseen.
Uncaught.
And closer than ever.
---
"You shouldn't have come here."
The voice came quietly.
Rowan turned.
Lady Seraphine stood near the doorway, her gaze sharp, her expression unreadable.
"You speak as if I had a choice," Rowan replied.
She studied him.
Carefully.
"You always have a choice," she said.
"Not in this."
Her lips curved faintly.
"Interesting answer."
A pause.
Then—
"You're not what I expected," she added.
"That seems to be a common theme."
"Yes," Seraphine said softly. "And it rarely ends well."
Rowan didn't respond.
But something about her tone—
It wasn't hostile.
It was… warning.
"Be careful," she said, turning away. "The prince is not the only one being watched."
Then she left.
Rowan remained still.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Because now—
There were more players on the board.
And not all of them were enemies.
---
That night—
The tension returned.
Stronger.
Heavier.
Unavoidable.
Rowan stood inside the chambers again.
Closer than before.
Always closer.
Cassian stood near the window, looking out into the darkness beyond the palace walls.
"You were quiet today," he said.
"So were you."
Cassian huffed softly. "I was being observed."
"You always are."
"Not like that."
A pause.
Then—
Cassian turned.
Slowly.
His gaze locked onto Rowan.
"And yet," he said quietly, "you didn't say a word."
"About what?"
Cassian stepped closer.
Again.
Always closer.
"You know what."
Rowan didn't move.
Didn't retreat.
But something in his chest tightened again.
That same unfamiliar tension.
"That doesn't change anything," Rowan said.
Cassian's expression shifted.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Something else.
"Doesn't it?"
"No."
A beat.
Then—
Cassian stepped closer.
Close enough to reach him.
And he did.
His hand lifted—
Rested lightly against Rowan's collar.
Not pulling.
Not forcing.
Just there.
"You're lying," Cassian murmured.
"I'm not."
"Then why are you still here?"
Rowan's breath slowed.
His voice lower now.
"Because it's my duty."
Cassian's fingers tightened slightly.
"And if it wasn't?"
Silence.
Rowan didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
And that—
That was the problem.
Cassian watched him.
Closely.
Intently.
Then—
He leaned in.
Again.
Not as hesitant this time.
Not as uncertain.
But—
He stopped.
Just short.
Their breaths mingling.
Their gazes locked.
"You didn't stop me last time," Cassian said softly.
Rowan's voice was barely above a whisper.
"You didn't give me the chance."
A faint smile.
Dangerous.
"And now?"
Silence.
A heartbeat.
Two.
Then—
Rowan didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't stop him.
And that—
That was answer enough.
But Cassian didn't close the distance.
Not this time.
Instead—
He pulled back.
Just slightly.
Watching him.
Testing him.
"You're dangerous," Cassian murmured.
"So are you."
A pause.
Then—
Cassian smiled.
Slow.
Satisfied.
"Good."
---
Across the palace—
In the shadows of a quiet corridor—
Adrian stood watching.
He had seen enough.
Not everything.
But enough.
His gaze darkened slightly.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Because now—
This was no longer just politics.
No longer just power.
This—
Was leverage.
And he intended to use it.