Lady Virelia stood at the palace gates, her violet cloak fluttering behind her as her carriage waited. Servants bustled about, loading her belongings with quiet haste. She held her head high, refusing to show the sting of failure. A week had come and gone, and she was not Queen.
Not yet.
But in her heart, she knew this was not an ending. It was a pause.
As she stepped into the carriage, she looked back at the palace, her gaze lingering on the tall towers and glinting spires. Her lips curled into a promise only she could hear.
"I will return," she whispered. "I don't care how long it takes. Damien will be mine… and so will the throne."
The coachman cracked the reins, and the carriage rolled away from the palace grounds. Lady Virelia sat back, eyes burning with obsession.
Inside the palace, Damien sat beneath the jasmine trees in the royal gardens, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. The fragrance of the flowers was strong, but it didn't soothe the unease weighing on his chest.
Alec approached quietly, his steps soft against the stone. "She's gone."
Damien didn't look at him. "Good."
"Feels like she left more behind than perfume," Alec muttered. "I don't trust her."
"She's ambitious. Desperate. I see it in her eyes." Damien exhaled. "But she's not the problem."
"No?" Alec asked, raising a brow.
Damien finally turned to face him. "The problem is this throne. Everyone wants it. Everyone thinks I want it. But I never asked for any of this."
Alec looked at him for a moment, then sat beside him. "If you don't want the throne, then walk away."
"I can't." Damien's voice cracked slightly. "Because walking away means chaos. It means letting down my father, the council, the people."
"And what about you?" Alec asked gently. "When do you matter?"
Damien didn't answer.
---
In the war chamber, torches flickered against the walls as Prince Caspian paced in front of the large wooden table. His jaw was clenched, his fists tight at his sides. King Lucian stood at the window, watching the fading light outside.
"You need to stop this madness," Caspian said finally, breaking the silence. "This… this parade of brides. It's destroying Damien."
Lucian didn't turn. "The kingdom needs stability. A queen at his side brings strength and unity."
"Unity?" Caspian scoffed. "You mean alliances. Politics. Control. You're treating him like a pawn."
"He is the crown prince," Lucian said calmly. "With that title comes duty."
"He's my brother," Caspian snapped. "And he's breaking under the weight of expectations you placed on him. Every girl that walks through those gates is another pressure point. Another trap."
Lucian turned to face his eldest son. "I know he's struggling. But this is bigger than his feelings."
"I don't care how big it is," Caspian said, voice low and sharp. "If anything happens to him....anything..I will not stay silent. I don't care what council rules exist, what bloodlines say, or what traditions bind us. If you push him too far, I'll take the throne myself. And I won't rule with diplomacy or mercy."
Lucian's brows furrowed. "Caspian !!!"
"I mean it," Caspian cut in. "If you let this bride competition destroy him, you'll have no heir left to crown. Only me. And I will rule this kingdom as coldly as it deserves."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"I thought you never wanted the throne," Lucian said finally.
"I didn't." Caspian's tone was bitter. "But I also never thought I'd have to protect Damien from our own family."
Lucian sighed and walked toward the table, placing both hands on it. "You think I'm heartless. But I carry this crown with the memory of every war I fought to keep it. I cannot allow weakness, even in my sons."
Caspian's eyes darkened. "Then perhaps you should ask yourself what true strength looks like."
Later that night, word spread among the guards that a masked figure had been spotted in the eastern wing the abandoned section sealed off years ago after the mysterious fire. No one had permission to be there. Yet one guard claimed he saw a figure in black, wearing a silver mask, standing just beyond the old library doors before vanishing.
Alec was alerted immediately. He ordered a full sweep of the area, but nothing was found. No footprints. No trace. Just the lingering scent of smoke.
Damien was in his chambers when Alec burst in.
"Tell me you've been here the whole time," Alec said.
Damien blinked. "Of course I have. Why?"
"There's a masked figure sneaking through the sealed wing. We don't know who or why. But it's too much of a coincidence."
Damien's expression hardened. "You think it's Virelia?"
"I don't know," Alec admitted. "But whoever it is… they're not done with us."
The next morning, as the sun broke through the cloudy skies, the arrival of the second bride stirred the palace once again.
Lady Helena of Astrwyn stepped from her carriage dressed in flowing gold silk, her demeanor soft and graceful. Her every movement was calculated charming, delicate, disarming.
Damien greeted her at the main stairs with a forced smile. Helena curtsied deeply, her eyes subtly scanning the palace.
"I am honored to meet you, my prince," she said sweetly.
Damien offered her his hand, and she took it gently. Alec, watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes.
Something about Helena felt too perfect.
And after the letter… after the masked sighting… perfection was starting to feel dangerous.
Lady Helena of Astrwyn was unlike any of the other noblewomen who had arrived before. Her presence was quiet but commanding, the kind of woman who knew how to be seen without begging for attention. As she walked beside Damien down the grand corridor of stained-glass windows, her gown shimmered like sunlight over water.
Damien cast a quick glance at her. "Have you traveled far before today?"
She smiled politely. "Not often, my prince. My father preferred I stay within the borders of Astrwyn. He feared the world outside would dim my light."
"A poetic way of saying he was overprotective," Damien muttered.
Helena tilted her head slightly. "I think he just feared losing me. Or maybe he feared others gaining me."
Damien said nothing, but Alec, who trailed a few steps behind, narrowed his eyes. That answer was smooth—too smooth. She didn't speak like a girl overwhelmed by royalty. She spoke like someone rehearsed.
"I heard about the masked intruder," Helena said casually, as if commenting on the weather. "Must be dreadful, having strangers wandering your halls."
Damien stopped. "How did you know about that?"
Helena smiled again, not missing a beat. "Oh, it's just palace gossip. The servants talk, and I listen well."
She walked ahead, her golden train whispering over the polished floors.
Alec leaned closer to Damien. "That's not a woman surprised by danger. That's someone already playing the game."
Damien's jaw tightened. "She's clever. And clever can be dangerous."
Meanwhile, in the highest tower of the palace, Caspian stood at the arched window overlooking the training grounds. He watched the guards drill in silence, the sound of swords clashing faint from this height. He had always preferred watching from afar. It gave him clarity.
A knock pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come," he called.
King Lucian entered, his heavy robes trailing behind him.
"You don't usually visit unannounced," Caspian said.
Lucian walked to the window and stood beside him. "I thought about what you said yesterday."
Caspian didn't reply. The air between them was tense but open.
"I wasn't trying to hurt Damien," Lucian continued. "I just… wanted to push him forward."
"Sometimes what you call pushing looks a lot like breaking, Father," Caspian said quietly.
Lucian exhaled. "He has strength. More than he knows. But if I stop now, the council will begin to doubt him. They already question his… hesitation."
"Then let them question him," Caspian replied. "You've led this kingdom with an iron grip. Maybe Damien's reign doesn't have to look like yours. Maybe that's a good thing."
Lucian turned to him with a trace of weariness in his eyes. "And what of you? Still waiting in the shadows?"
"I'm not waiting," Caspian said. "I'm watching. And protecting. If anything happens to Damien… I will take the crown. And I'll stop pretending to be the quiet prince."
Lucian didn't challenge him. He only nodded once before turning to leave.
That evening, Damien was invited to a private dinner with Lady Helena. A table was set on the balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens. Candlelight flickered between silver goblets and golden plates, but the warmth of the setting couldn't melt the ice beneath Damien's skin.
Helena lifted her glass. "To possibilities."
Damien mirrored her motion but didn't drink. "I don't want to waste your time, Helena."
"Time spent with you is not wasted," she said smoothly. "Even if you never choose me."
Damien studied her. "You don't seem disappointed."
"I'm not here only for the crown," she said, setting down her goblet. "Though I won't lie… it's a tempting prize. But I'm also here because I've heard stories of you. The prince who walks gardens alone. The boy who rides horses at dawn to escape the noise."
His eyes flickered. "You know a lot."
"I know what matters," she replied. "I know that you're not like your father. And that's why you scare them."
Damien leaned back, arms crossed. "Scare who?"
"The council. The court. Anyone who benefits from tradition." Helena's voice dropped slightly. "They want another King Lucian. A ruler of iron. But you… you offer softness. Compassion. And they see that as weakness."
Damien studied her closely. "And what do you see?"
She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Potential."
For a moment, the air between them shifted. Damien looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.
That night, Alec returned to the sealed east wing.
This time, he was not alone. Two of his most trusted guards followed, lanterns in hand. The hallway was darker than usual, the torches on the walls extinguished by someone—or something. Dust clung to every surface, and the silence was thick.
Alec moved cautiously, sword drawn.
"Check the library," he ordered.
One guard stepped forward and pushed the ancient door open. It creaked loud, unsettling. Inside, rows of books were lined with cobwebs, but one thing stood out immediately: a fresh footprint in the dust.
Alec stepped forward, kneeling to inspect it.
"This isn't old," he muttered. "They've been here. Recently."
A noise behind them made the guards spin—just a scraping sound—but enough to send tension crackling through the air.
Alec stood up, gaze sharp. "Double the guards around Damien's chambers. No one goes in or out without my permission."
He looked toward the corner of the library where a single rose petal lay on the ground.
"Someone is watching," he whispered. "And they're getting closer."