Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Jack
The palace halls trembled with the sound of unrest. Even here, buried deep within the eastern wing, boisterous chants echoed off the walls.
The townsfolk had gathered right outside the palace gates and spilled into the courtyard, their furious voices bleeding into the outer corridors, their cries rising through the stone hallways and vaulted ceilings.
Guards stood posted at every turn, their silver helms gleaming beneath shafts of morning light, their hands tense on the hilts of their blades.
Courtiers flitted through the halls like startled birds, draped in silk and jewels.
Some barricaded themselves behind closed doors, likely afraid to be caught in the mayhem.
Others lingered in anxious clusters, whispering behind trembling hands, their faces pale with dread.
Trays of untouched breakfast were left abandoned on side tables.
Servants moved quickly, quietly, like ghosts trying not to draw attention.
And then there was Sylvi.
She walked beside me, chin high, shoulders squared, every line of her body trained to exude authority.
But I was acutely attuned to her in ways she’d never know, and saw the truth hidden in the undercurrent of her feigned composure.
A subtle falter in her stride, a flicker of strain in her jaw each time her weight shifted to her wounded side, the quiet grunts and slow breaths that spilled from her lips as we jacked up our steps.
The wound had stitched itself, but she was far from fully healed.
The anxious energy vibrating through her body triggered something primal in me, something that made the beast prowling under my skin rake its claws against my ribs.
I wanted to comfort her, to take her into my arms and dissolve everything that troubled her.
Fingers flexing, I sucked in deep, powerful breaths, straining to keep that beast in check.
But now was not the time to let this possessive side of me rear its ugly head, not when so many eyes were on us, not when Sylvi needed to look competent and stable.
The last thing the captain of the guard needed was her overprotective prince treating her like a porcelain doll.
Still, as much as Sylvi liked putting on a tough face when it came to her duty, confronting my mother was no easy feat.
Her borrowed uniform didn’t aid the situation.
It wasn’t hers, and I knew that mattered to her more than she let on.
Discipline ran through her like blood. She believed in standards and order.
Even in the cut of a uniform. Especially when staring down a queen.
It was affecting her confidence, and it killed me to see her like this.
Even though I couldn’t take away the burden hanging on her shoulders, I needed her to know that I saw her, that I was here with her no matter what. I gently brushed my fingers against hers, an almost-imperceptive touch, but I hoped she received the message.
Her eyes drifted up to meet mine, a fleeting smile dancing on her lips.
My heart swelled like a balloon at the sight of those beautiful eyes and lush lips.
Thank you, she said in that unspoken language between us before her gaze locked ahead on the towering double doors to the War Room, flanked by guards in glittering armor.
Her hand slid along the length of her braid, smoothing it down her back. It swayed with each step like a pendulum counting down to something inevitable. I hadn’t said anything else about the streak of silver I’d seen near her temple.
But I hadn’t stopped thinking about it, either. How could I? That streak hadn’t been there last night.
Was it possible I’d caused it with my magic? I was so confused by this whole thing, I was now struggling to believe my own theories, second-guessing everything I’d thought to be true.
But that wasn’t the only thing haunting me. The feel of her mouth, of her soft skin…those thoughts kept mauling my mind relentlessly. That invisible thread that had tethered us since we were children now pulled with the weight of something rooted in deeper magic.
And it made me reckless. Protective to the point of obsession.
The soft click of heels echoed behind us as we approached the War Room.
“Well, well. Look who’s walking,” said Varik, emerging from the west hall, helm tucked beneath one arm.
His voice was dry, but there was something guarded behind his eyes, a mixture of surprise and wariness.
“I’d heard you were awake, but I figured I would be covering for you a bit longer. ”
Sylvi lifted her chin and puffed her chest. “I wasn’t expecting to be feeling better this quickly, but here I am. Thank you for covering my post, but I can take it from here.”
Varik offered a smile, but the gesture lacked warmth. His gaze drifted down to her midsection, where he’d seen the blood pour the night before, then back up again, brow knitting. “You look better than expected. Almost…too good.”
My jaw flexed.
“I saw the wound myself,” Varik went on. “You were bleeding out profusely, Captain. No one heals from that in a single night—at least, not without powerful magic.”
I shifted forward just enough to place myself between them. “She’s fine now. That’s all that matters.”
Varik glanced at me, something dark flickering in his storm-colored eyes, but he gave me a slight nod.
“Then thank the Goddess for that,” he replied coolly, shifting his eyes to Sylvi, his spine snapping straighter, a soldier acknowledging his superior, though the muscles ticking in his jaw failed to hide his displeasure at no longer being the next highest-ranking officer in the room.
“People are demanding answers,” he went on, lips tight. “Specifically, the families of the males who died. Some are shouting for justice; others want blood. The queen wants this unrest dealt with swiftly, Captain. I will await your orders once you’ve met with her and her assembled advisors.”
Sylvi’s voice softened. “My family…are they safe?”
“Last I heard, the guards are still posted at your home. Your mother was shaken, but unharmed. Aldric is pacing like a caged bear in one of the parlors, refusing to leave until he speaks with you.”
I turned to her. “If it would help, I can have the rest of your family brought to the palace…just until things calm down.”
Her eyes darted to mine, and for a moment, a bit of trepidation flashed in those depths. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Let’s see how today goes.”
We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing down the hall until I leaned in and murmured close to her ear, low enough so Varik couldn’t hear, “Why did you dismiss Varik from his post? I thought we agreed you would rest. That you were going to take time off your official duties.”
Without bothering to look at me, she said, “You agreed to that; I never agreed to such a thing. In fact, what I remember telling Maelis was that I would apply the poultice, not that I would abandon my duties.”
“Syl—”
But she was already pushing through the great double doors. And I followed, heart pounding. Because my mother might be waiting on the other side, but the female I feared most was walking just ahead of me. And she bore my name on her skin without even knowing it.
The heavy doors groaned as they swung open, spilling us into the antechamber of the War Room with a swoosh of air—air that felt sticky with the scent of cold stone and political bloodlust, and it clung to my skin like a layer of muck.
Boots shifting and cloaks rustling, my mother’s advisors turned as we entered, their eyes narrowing, their conversation dying like a snuffed candle.
The hum of hushed voices fell away, replaced by a brittle silence that cracked like broken glass.
The chamber itself seemed to recoil in anticipation.
From her place at the head of the obsidian war table, the Queen of Skadgard slowly rose. She looked carved from alabaster, her white hair pulled into a severe coil atop her head, not a single strand out of place. Her diamond crown glinted like jagged icicles melting under the sun.
Her gaze fell on me first, deadly as an iron-tipped arrow. Then it slid to Sylvi, and her breath caught. “Well,” she said, voice as lethal as viper venom. “You seem…remarkably well for someone who, by my son’s account, was moments from death.”
Sylvi didn’t flinch, but I felt the colossal effort it took her to keep her spine straight and her expression neutral.
The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Strange, is it not? That you appear unharmed, yet my son deemed it necessary to kill four citizens of the kingdom in your defense?”
Around the table, glances were exchanged, hands fidgeting over parchments and polished rings. My mother’s advisors did not speak, but the unsaid murmurs dripped thick as sap between them.
Unsurprisingly, one brave soul stood from his chair, the folds of his deep-blue robes sweeping the floor.
Lord Kaelven, ever the loyal subject and diplomat.
“Your Majesty,” he said, glancing at Sylvi as if she were a war criminal being brought before a jury.
“If the townsfolk were to see the captain alive and seemingly unscathed, it may do more harm than good. They believe there was…excessive force used. Her swift recovery will only confirm those suspicions.”
The queen said nothing, but she didn’t need to. The chill that swept the chamber in her silence said enough. Even the light in the room seemed to dim.
I took a slow breath, anchoring myself.
But Sylvi spoke first, her braid swishing along her back as she took a step toward the table.
Despite the stiffness in her limbs, despite the ill-fitting uniform and the healing wound still pulling beneath her ribs, she stood with pride.
“My Queen, with all due respect, I may appear well, but make no mistake, the attack was real, brutal, and unprovoked. If the prince hadn’t intervened when he did, I would be dead. ”