Darcien strode down the palace corridor, guards bowing silently as he passed. A messenger intercepted him with a deep bow.
"Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence in the council chamber."
Darcien's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "I will attend."
The chamber doors opened before him. The king sat behind the wide oak desk, his posture straight, gaze sharp. The guards stood motionless along the walls, silent and stoic.
"Darcien," the king said, his tone calm but edged with meaning, "take a seat."
Darcien inclined his head and knelt, keeping his expression neutral.
"You've brought Princess Elowen to your palace for the week," the king continued, eyes narrowing just slightly, "and yet… I hear she is already behaving in ways that are… bold, even for someone of her rank. Tell me, Darcien, how do you manage her?"
"She is adapting," Darcien said evenly, voice measured. "I ensure she is safe and attended to."
The king's lips pressed together. "Safe, yes… but I do not speak only of safety. I want to know if she is… influenced by anything she should not be. Curious, bold, unrestrained. I hear she does not act like other princesses."
Darcien's jaw tensed. "I am aware of her behavior, Your Majesty."
The king leaned back, gaze sharp. "I expected nothing less. Still… for someone so young, she carries herself with… determination. That may serve her well—or it may get her into trouble. You are responsible for her while she is in your care."
"I will see she remains protected," Darcien said, calm but firm.
"See that you do," the king said slowly, tapping his desk. "Watch closely. Observe. Do not underestimate her. And do not forget your responsibilities, Darcien."
Darcien inclined his head slightly, expression neutral, though a flicker of irritation passed across his features. "Understood, Your Majesty."
The king dismissed him with a slow wave. Darcien rose, keeping his composure as he left the chamber, though his thoughts churned. He did not like the king—never had—and he knew the feeling was mutual. Yet there were matters to attend to, and Princess Elowen was at the center of them.
Maya sat on the edge of her bed, still turning over the flashes in her mind—the little Elowen running through the forest, the cloaked woman, the hidden chamber. Her thoughts were scattered when a soft knock came at the door.
"Enter," she said.
Darcien stepped in, silent as ever, his presence filling the room without a word.
"Your Highness," he said, inclining his head.
Maya blinked. Ugh, why does it always have to be so formal? She straightened. "Darcien," she said, testing the waters.
He gave her a long, sharp look. "You do not behave like a princess," he said bluntly. "You speak freely, move freely… bold beyond reason."
Maya arched an eyebrow. "Well… what if I'm not from here?" she asked casually, leaning back.
Darcien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course you are."
Maya laughed, a light, incredulous sound. "Of course? That's funny," she said, shaking her head.
He tilted his head, watching her closely. "What is funny?"
She smirked. "Nothing. Just… you take everything so seriously."
Darcien's lips pressed into a thin line. "We are leaving for my palace shortly," he said simply, voice steady.
Maya frowned. "Wait… isn't it supposed to be a week here?"
He regarded her coolly. "Plans change."
Maya's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing, only leaning back with a small, knowing smirk. Of course plans change… with him.
⸻
Darcien turned to leave, clearly done with the conversation.
Maya reacted without thinking. She reached out and caught his hand.
He stopped.
Slowly, his gaze dropped to where her fingers were wrapped around his. The look alone made her realize what she had done. She pulled her hand back immediately.
"I—sorry," she said quickly. "I just… I have something to say."
He looked at her, unreadable. "Speak."
She opened her mouth, then stopped. Careful, she told herself. Say the wrong thing and they'll think you're strange. Or worse.
"Can we talk in my chamber?" she asked instead.
"No," he replied at once.
She frowned slightly. "Why not?"
He studied her for a moment, then said evenly, "You have the habit of talking back, I see."
Maya pressed her lips together, unsure whether to feel offended or amused.
"We will speak when we reach my palace," he added, turning away.
This time, she didn't stop him.
⸻
Darcien stood before the king, posture straight, expression unreadable.
"We will be leaving the main palace," he said evenly.
The king's gaze lifted slowly, sharp and assessing. "Leaving already?" he asked, voice smooth in a way that made the question feel heavier than it should have been. "So soon after the wedding?"
Darcien did not answer at once.
The silence stretched.
"And why," the king continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "would the Crown Prince be in such a hurry to return to his own lands?"
Darcien's eyes remained steady. "There is no reason to stay."
The king studied him for a moment longer, as though searching for something beneath the words. Then he chuckled softly—an empty sound.
"I see," he said. "Still as difficult as ever."
Beside him, the queen did not bother to hide her satisfaction. Her smile was sharp, pleased, almost relieved. "Perhaps distance is best," she said lightly. "Some presences weigh on a palace more than others."
Darcien did not react.
"If there is nothing else," he said, voice calm, "we will prepare to depart."
The king waved a hand dismissively. "Go, then."
Darcien turned and left without another word.
The queen watched him go, her smile lingering far longer than necessary.
⸻
The moment Darcien was gone, the queen's lips curved into a faint, calculating smile.
She left the king's side without a word, her steps measured, but there was a softness in her voice when she spoke—deceptively gentle, almost warm.
"Perhaps she will go to the king…" she murmured lightly, eyes glinting. "Or perhaps she will not know which way to turn."
The guards outside her eldest son's chamber stiffened, but they did not block her. She pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
Her son was near the bed, a maid fussing quietly beside him. He straightened immediately when he saw her. The queen's gaze shifted to the maid, lingering with thinly veiled disgust at the girl's nervous posture.
"Step aside," the queen said softly, almost like a suggestion. The maid bowed quickly and hurried from the room.
The queen's attention returned to her son. "For a princess of such a vast kingdom," she said lightly, "she is remarkably… unrefined. Bold… curious… unguarded."
Her son's eyes flicked to her, frowning slightly. "You seem pleased," he said, cautious.
The queen gave him a slow, deliberate look. "Pleased? Perhaps," she said smoothly, her tone polished, her smile faintly hostile. "Or perhaps intrigued. It will be… interesting to see how far her audacity carries her. And how much she will stumble along the way."
Her son's jaw tightened. "And what of them? The prince and the princess?"
She let her gaze drift to the window for a moment, then back to him, voice lowering slightly, elegant but with an unmistakable edge. "Bandits will be waiting along the road to his palace," she said, letting the words hang. "A gentle reminder that the path to power is never without… obstacles. I want the crown to belong to you, my son. No one should interfere with that."
Her son's eyes darkened, and he nodded, understanding the intent.
The queen turned slightly, but did not leave the room. She moved closer to the table, letting her presence fill the space. "Observe," she continued softly, "but do not overreach. Let them make their mistakes. They always do."
Her lips curved faintly. "And when they do… we will be ready."
The room fell silent, the weight of her words lingering. The son's eyes followed hers, and in that quiet, unspoken understanding, the plan was set.