The late autumn night is eerily silent, the air biting cold. Streets in Rahlhelion's South Market gleam wet under lamplight, washed clean by rain. Since the three merchants' poisoned deaths, the capital has hung under a shadow, whispers of "poisoned arrows unceasing, shadows lingering" spreading through the bazaars.
Evelynn studies the joint report from the captain of guards and royal physicians in the Royal Study through the night: The poison powder on the arrowheads, while similar to that used by Northern Outpost bandits, is more intricately purified and deadlier. Running her hand over the sandalwood desk emblazoned with the Holy Light crest, her gaze hardens like iron. "The enemy has extended their frontline into the city, biding their time. The next strike will be far more dangerous."
Lucian enters, still dust-strewn, closing the door softly as he removes his rain-soaked cloak. He places a steaming cup of tea on the desk. "Your Highness, security in the South Marketplace has been reinforced. All cross-border caravans are thoroughly inspected; no new anomalies found yet." His voice drops. "I dispatched Silver Oath shadow guards to scout Four Passages Alley. They tracked suspicious figures slipping toward North Gate, likely coordinating a larger operation."
Nodding, Evelynn pushes the reports aside and steps to Lucian. "The shadow guards' direction points to JInshu Workshop, the bazaar district closest to the palace. If the enemy seeks greater chaos, they will set a trap there. Tonight, you, me, and the shadow guards strike JInshu Workshop to dismantle the poison den."
Surprise and excitement flash in Lucian's eyes. "Your Highness personally leading such danger fills me with both worry and honor." He drapes his cape over her shoulders, voice low. "I follow you into peril as you've stood with me on the edge of the blade."
Deep in night, they don black leather armor and dark gray cloaks, keeping only Holy Light emblems in their inner sleeves for emergency identification. Mei Xia, Karina, and Lothar—three shadow guards—lie in wait in an alley outside the city gate. When Evelynn and Lucian arrive, the night operation begins.
Neon signs at JInshu Workshop's entrance sway in the damp wind, but bustling bookstalls and food stands now stand deserted. Alert shadow guards guide them through alleys to the backyard of a derelict opera house. Faded characters on the weathered door read "Spring Lanterns Unlit." Evelynn breathes softly, ordering: "Lothar, take shadow guards to breach left and right. The rest follow me inside. After victory, sound the Silver Oath whistle to search every room and end this threat."
Lothar salutes and slips away. Evelynn and Lucian exchange a nod, pushing the door open.
Inside is dim, tattered curtains fluttering through broken windows. A pile of scrolls lies beneath the wooden stairs, dotted with dried bloodstains. Lucian draws his short sword, tapping the hilt in signal. They climb silently. Soon, toxic arrow quivers and powder jars come into view, with masked figures seated around, sampling poisons in preparation for their mission.
Evelynn leaps forward, swatting a mask from a figure's head. "Poison from Eastridge dares enter the capital again—unforgivable!" Her voice pierces wooden beams and paper walls like thunder. Masked men panic, drawing daggers. Lucian springs ahead, tripping one to the floor as his dagger dances in moonlight. Evelynn weaves through the fray, sword at a man's neck, severing an arm with a single move.
After brief combat, shadow guards break through from both sides, capturing the remaining masked men. Lothar seizes the arrow bundle, carefully sealing it. Evelynn steps to the decrepit opera stage, running her fingers over a plaque carved with ancient opera lyrics, as if touching a lost history, then smiles. "Their performance and poison trade end here."
But to truly quell the undercurrent requires deeper courage. Downstairs, Lucian brings the last captive to kneel in confession. The man pales, stammering the mastermind's name—the hidden hand behind Eastridge's military governor, Kalman.
Returning to the Fountain Pavilion at dawn, Evelynn lights candles, their soft glow falling on her slightly bruised wrists from battle. She massages her delicate wrist, offering tea to Lucian. "I couldn't have survived without you by my side."
Lucian draws her into a tender embrace, his fingers brushing her collarbone to touch the royal blood mark. "I too would falter without you. Tonight, I was both guard and partner sharing storm and stress." He bows his head, kissing her neck in a warm, lingering embrace.
Evelynn closes her eyes, savoring the moment. "Though storms rage, your arms are my haven, fearless." She unfastens his chest strap, slipping fingers under his robe to feel his warmth. Moonlight spills in, casting their intertwined shadows.
In the dark, they share a brief, sincere union: lips and tongues entwined, fingers exploring gently. Lucian guides her to a stone bench, their breaths mingling, skin touching—silk and leather dissolving all royal burdens. Evelynn closes her eyes to the rhythm of his touch, feeling body and mind bloom: this is her moment of belonging, not as a monarch, but as a woman craving love.
When the night wind returns, carrying the fountain's murmur, they embrace openly in candlelight and spring glow. Politics and passion, after this undercurrent and secret mission, resonate in the most intimate instant, steeling them to face the coming storm with unwavering resolve.