Chapter 10: The Crown's Shadow
The throne hall was colder than usual.
Alaida stood beside a pillar, half-hidden in shadow, watching the nobles gather. Their robes shimmered with status, their voices low and sharp. She wasn't meant to be here. Not among them. Not beside the lion king.
Thalion sat on his throne, unmoved.
Lord Viremont stepped forward, his silver beard braided with rings of judgment. "Majesty," he said, bowing just enough to be insulting, "there are whispers."
Thalion's gaze didn't flicker. "There are always whispers."
"This one is louder," Viremont pressed. "The girl. The forest orphan. She dines at your table. She walks your halls. She wears silks meant for queens."
"She was chosen," Thalion said.
"By instinct?" Viremont's voice sharpened. "Or by spell?"
Alaida flinched.
Thalion rose.
The hall fell silent.
"She is under my protection," he said. "That is all you need to know."
Viremont bowed again, deeper this time. "Forgive me, Majesty. But protection breeds expectation. And expectation breeds rebellion."
Thalion stepped down from the throne, each movement deliberate. "Then let them rebel."
Alaida's breath caught.
Later, in the quiet of the garden, she found him standing beneath the silver-leaved tree, his cloak discarded, his hands bare.
"You defended me," she said.
Thalion didn't look at her. "I silenced them."
"Isn't that the same?"
He turned. His eyes were tired. "No. One is power. The other is care."
Alaida stepped closer. "And which was I?"
Thalion's voice was barely a whisper. "Both."