Morning in Eryndor began like a painting — soft light spilling through gauzy curtains, the faint hum of court bells echoing beyond the palace walls. Servants glided quietly through marble corridors, carrying trays of parchment and fruit, careful not to disturb the waking nobility.
In the Queen's chambers, the world felt suspended between calm and calculation. Queen Selene Valaris sat by her writing desk, a silver quill in her hand, her brow slightly furrowed as she scanned a letter bearing the royal seal of Varyn — the kingdom where her sister had spent the past four years. The letter contained warm words and diplomatic courtesy, but what lingered in Selene's mind were the unspoken messages between the lines.
Varyn had sent Lyra back not merely as a sister — but as a representative of their interests.
"Your Majesty," said Mira, stepping inside quietly. "The council awaits you in the Great Hall. Lord Draven called the meeting at dawn."
Selene looked up. "So early?!
"Yes, my Queen. He said it was urgent — matters concerning the northern provinces."
Selene rose gracefully, her gown flowing around her like liquid pearl. "Then let us see what shadows demand daylight," she said, placing the letter aside.
---
The Great Hall of Eryndor was a place of splendor and unease. Massive stained glass windows painted the floor in hues of crimson and gold, while a carved map of the kingdom stretched across the far wall. Beneath it stood the Council of Twelve, composed of noblemen, generals, and scholars — all powerful, all watching.
At their center stood Lord Kael Draven!
He was dressed in deep black velvet, a silver brooch in the shape of a serpent gleaming against his chest. His posture was poised yet effortless, his dark hair framing a face both refined and unreadable. As Selene entered, the room rose in deference.
"My Queen," Kael said, bowing low. "Forgive the hour, but there are whispers from the northern border. Trade caravans have vanished without trace. Some claim bandits; others, rebellion."
Selene approached the council table, her expression steady. "And what do you claim, Lord Draven?"
Kael's gaze lifted to hers, unwavering. "I claim truth hides where comfort sleeps. And comfort has slept too long in Eryndor."
A murmur rippled through the council. Selene rested her hands lightly on the table. "If you suggest negligence, say it plainly."
He smiled faintly. "Not negligence, Majesty — trust. You place it too freely. Even the brightest crowns cast shadows."
The room stilled.
Selene met his eyes — sharp, challenging, and not without fascination. "And are you my shadow then, Lord Draven?"
He inclined his head. "If you wish it so. But I would rather be your lantern."
A ripple of soft laughter broke the tension. Yet beneath the exchange lay something unspoken — a battle of wills disguised as charm.
Selene turned to her generals. "Double the patrols along the northern trade roads. Send word to the regional lords — I want reports within three days."
"As you command," they said.
Kael stepped closer. "With your permission, I will lead the investigation personally. It would show strength to the provinces — and remind them that the Queen's reach is not confined to her throne."
Selene hesitated. She disliked the idea of giving him such liberty, but refusing might appear distrustful. "Very well," she said finally. "Take a contingent of guards and depart by dawn. Keep me informed of all findings."
Kael bowed again, satisfaction glinting faintly in his eyes. "Always, my Queen."
---
As the council dispersed, Lyra entered through the opposite doors, her arrival drawing fresh whispers. She wore a gown of pale lavender, understated but elegant — a deliberate contrast to the grandeur of her sister.
"Am I too late for the spectacle?" she asked lightly, moving to Selene's side.
"The council has adjourned," Selene replied, voice even. "But you seem to find spectacle wherever you stand."
Lyra smiled, tilting her head. "I learned from the best." Her eyes flicked toward Kael as he gathered his papers. "That's the new Chancellor, isn't it? He seems… dangerous."
Selene's tone cooled. "He is useful."
"Useful men are often the most dangerous," Lyra murmured, her gaze following him as he exited the hall. "Especially when they smile like that."
Selene said nothing. But in her silence, Lyra found her answer.
---
Later that afternoon, the palace gardens bloomed under a gentle sun. Lyra wandered alone along the stone pathways, her fingers brushing petals of white lilac. She had always loved these gardens — their deceptive peace, their fragrance that masked the roots twisting beneath the soil.
She paused near the fountain, where a statue of the Moon Goddess poured endless water from a marble chalice.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Lyra turned. Kael stood a few steps away, his expression calm, his voice soft enough to seem harmless.
"It is," she said. "But even beauty tires when everyone looks at it."
He smiled. "A flower might tire of admiration, but never of the sun."
Lyra raised a brow. "Then tell me, my lord — which am I? The flower or the sun?"
"Both," he said after a beat. "Because you have learned to burn and bloom at once."
The words disarmed her more than she expected. She should have turned away, but curiosity tugged at her.
"My sister speaks highly of you," she said.
"And you?"
"I don't know you yet."
"Then let me change that."
He offered his hand, and though she hesitated, she placed hers within it. His grip was warm, confident, unhurried. The faintest spark ran between their skin — the kind that could be mistaken for fate.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "does it weigh on you — to walk behind her crown?"
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly. "You should choose your words carefully, Chancellor. The walls here have ears."
"They listen only to power," he murmured. "And power, I think, is hungry for a new name."
Before she could answer, he released her hand and stepped back with a polite bow, leaving her with the scent of iron and rose petals in the air.
Lyra watched him go, her pulse unsteady.
---
That evening, the Queen's study glowed with candlelight. Scrolls and maps lay scattered across her desk. Selene traced a line along the map of the north with one fingertip, her thoughts heavy.
"You're restless tonight," came a voice.
She looked up. It was Darian, slipping silently through the hidden door known only to them.
Selene allowed herself a rare smile. "Restless queens are dangerous things."
"Then let me calm you," he said gently, stepping closer
For a moment, she leaned into the familiar safety of his presence. But then, unbidden, Kael's words echoed in her memory: Even the brightest crowns cast shadows.
She straightened. "I can't be careless anymore, Darian. Every move I make is watched. Every glance could be misread."
He frowned. "You think I'd ever betray you?"
"No," she said softly. "But others will use you to wound me.
Their eyes met — love tangled with fear. He reached for her hand; she let him hold it only a heartbeat before pulling away.
"You should go," she whispered.
He hesitated, then bowed his head. "As you command, my Queen."
When he left, the silence that followed felt colder than stone.
---
Down the corridor, Lyra sat alone by her window, staring at the same moon her sister watched from the opposite wing. The night breeze stirred her hair as she replayed Kael's words in her mind.
Power is hungry for a new name.
She thought of her sister's calm, of her perfect control, of the way people bowed not to Selene the woman but to Selene the crown.
Lyra closed her eyes, whispering to herself, "What name would power give me?"
The moonlight offered no answer. But in the garden below, Kael looked up toward her window, the faintest smile touching his lips. The game had begun, and already the pieces were moving exactly as he desired.
---
At dawn, the palace stirred again — unaware that its peace was cracking. Kael departed for the north with a detachment of guards, promising swift justice. Selene watched his carriage roll away, the black banners snapping in the wind.
Beside her, Lyra stood silent, her expression unreadable.
"You trust him," Lyra said quietly.
Selene didn't turn. "I trust no one. But I trust his ambition to serve mine — for now."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Perhaps ambition is the only truth we share."
When Selene glanced at her, their eyes met — mirror and shadow. Sister and rival.
Above them, the sky bled with dawn, painting the horizon red as if foreshadowing the fire to come.