The morning after the scroll's revelations arrived like a heavy fog, casting a muted silence over the royal palace. Alec stood by his chamber window, staring at the golden rays stretching across the courtyard but feeling none of their warmth. The secrets they'd uncovered about the late Queen's murder lingered like a ghost in the air.
He hadn't slept. The words in the scroll repeated in his mind like a haunting lullaby: "Poisoned by one trusted... keep the kingdom from war..." Queen Elira had been silenced, her truth buried beneath royal protocol and betrayal. Alec ran his fingers along the edge of the scroll, now resealed and hidden beneath his floorboards. He had to protect it, at all costs.
In another wing of the palace, Damien stood at his balcony, the cool breeze whipping his black cloak. His jaw was clenched, eyes lost in the garden below. Last night's truth refused to release its grip on him. His mother, the woman who had kissed his forehead each night and taught him to walk the gardens barefoot, had been murdered. And no justice had ever been served.
He heard a knock at the door.
"Enter," Damien said without turning.
Alec stepped in quietly, his hands behind his back. Damien looked over his shoulder. "You didn't sleep."
"Neither did you."
Damien gave a small nod. Silence fell between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
"Why do you think she sent it to me?" Alec finally asked.
Damien turned fully to face him. "Because she trusted you. That's not something my mother gave easily."
Alec's brows lowered. "I feel like I'm carrying something I don't fully understand."
Damien walked forward, stopping just inches from him. "That's because you are. But you don't have to carry it alone."
Alec's throat tightened. For all of Damien's coldness, there was something fiercely protective in his tone now.
"Thank you," Alec whispered.
Damien's lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. "Now go eat something. I don't want a starved advisor collapsing on me."
Alec chuckled softly and left, the weight on his chest just a little lighter.
Meanwhile, Caspian couldn't stay still. His mind raced with questions. He roamed the palace halls with a determination that puzzled even the guards. By midday, he was speaking with the palace healer, Master Orlin, an aging man with a frail frame and sharp memory.
"Her Majesty had no symptoms of natural illness," Orlin said, frowning. "She deteriorated too fast. We couldn't explain it, but the King insisted we say it was her heart."
"Did anyone question it?" Caspian asked.
Orlin hesitated. "There was one... her personal maid, Liria. She was deeply upset. Claimed something was wrong with the Queen's tea. The next day, she vanished."
Caspian's eyes widened. "Vanished? Just like that?"
"Gone. No trace."
"Thank you, Master Orlin."
With renewed urgency, Caspian sought out one of the older maids who had served during Queen Elira's reign.
"Liria? Yes, she was devoted to the Queen. Would never have left unless something scared her off," the maid said. "Last I heard, she was seen on the eastern border, trying to flee."
Caspian returned to Alec and Damien that evening with this revelation.
"Her name was Liria," he explained. "She served the Queen for years. She knew something and ran. We need to find her."
Damien's face was unreadable. Alec, however, felt a chill.
"If she's alive," Alec said, "she might be the only witness left."
"Then we find her," Damien concluded. "Quietly. I'll send scouts."
The matter settled for the moment, the three young men parted ways for the night.
But Alec's mind wouldn't rest. He entered his chamber, only to freeze at the sight of an envelope on his windowsill. No seal. No signature. Just his name written in unfamiliar ink.
With hesitant fingers, he opened it. A single line was scrawled on the parchment:
"She was not the only one."
His pulse quickened. His eyes scanned the dark corners of the room. Who left this? What did it mean? Another victim?
Alec held the letter to his chest. The palace was drowning in secrets. And someone, somewhere, wanted him to keep digging.
Moonlight filtered through the thin curtain of clouds as Damien and Alec walked the secluded garden path behind the palace. The silence between them was not awkward, but heavy, the kind shared by those who had uncovered truths too dangerous to speak aloud.
"Why did you push so hard to uncover this?" Damien finally asked, his tone low and thoughtful. He didn't look at Alec, eyes instead focused ahead, where the lanterns flickered softly.
Alec slowed his steps. "Because I couldn't ignore it. Because your mother's death never felt right. And maybe… maybe part of me wanted to prove that I belong here."
Damien stopped, turning to face him. "You do," he said firmly. "No one else would have dared."
Alec's lips parted slightly, surprised by the rare praise. "Thank you, Your Highness."
"Call me Damien."
Their eyes held for a beat too long before they both looked away. The moment passed, but the air between them was warmer, fuller.
Meanwhile, in the stillness of the royal library, Caspian traced his finger along the spine of an ancient book. Dust rose in a soft cloud as he pulled it down, flipping through pages written in a script barely legible. He scanned until he found it a section on forbidden poisons. His finger paused on the name: Silvra's Veil. A compound odorless and tasteless, known to mimic illness in the body while silently killing its victim over days.
There were only five known alchemists who had ever crafted it. Four were long dead. But one, Master Delvar, was rumored to still live beyond the mountain woods.
Caspian's eyes narrowed. He had a lead now, and he intended to follow it. Silently, he folded the paper he'd taken notes on and slipped it into his coat. No one would stop him from finding out who killed his mother.
Back in the main palace, King Lucian studied his sons closely over dinner. The long table felt colder than usual. Damien was too quiet. Caspian, too thoughtful. And Alec that boy's eyes never stopped moving, always watching, always thinking.
"Damien," the king began casually, slicing into his roasted lamb, "you seem burdened lately. Is there something troubling you?"
Damien met his father's eyes with a calm that belied the unease within him. "No, Father. All is well."
"Good," Lucian said, though his gaze lingered. "I trust you're preparing for the council meeting. Many ears will be on you."
"Let them listen. I have nothing to hide."
But Alec caught the faint tension in Damien's jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly beneath the table.
Later, as Alec passed a chamber near the east wing, he overheard voices. A group of nobles stood huddled in the shadows, speaking in clipped tones.
"He's always with the prince, always whispering."
"He's clever, I'll give him that."
"Clever or just... seductive?"
Low laughter followed. "Maybe he's climbing to power on his back."
Alec's fists clenched, but he moved past without a word. He would not give them the satisfaction of knowing he heard.
The palace was stirring again, not just with rumors, but with anticipation. Damien had not named a consort. And that silence gave the court permission to speculate.
Back in his chambers, Damien sat alone when the knock came. It was late. He opened the door to find a servant, pale and hesitant.
"This arrived for you, sire. No signature. Just a raven."
Damien took the sealed parchment. The wax bore no sigil. He waited until he was alone before breaking it.
"The blood that spilled once may spill again. Look closer to the crown than you dare."
His eyes moved over the words twice. Then a third time. He folded the letter and fed it to the flames. The parchment curled, blackening into ash.
He said nothing, even as the fire reflected in his eyes.
He stood and walked to the window, gazing into the darkness beyond the palace walls.
Far below, Alec stood on the balcony of his room, looking up at the stars. His thoughts were on the late Queen on her strength, her mystery, and now, her cruel end. It made him question everything.
Moments later, there was a soft knock. Alec turned. It was Damien, dressed in his night coat, expression unreadable.
"Can we talk?"
"Always," Alec said.
Inside, Damien took a seat. He looked tired, but not weak.
"If there is danger around the crown," he said, "we need to be sharper. We need to act first."
Alec nodded. "Then we do it together."
They sat in silence for a long moment before Damien reached out and took Alec's hand.
No words passed, but the gesture spoke volumes.
The fire beneath the crown was growing. But they weren't alone in the heat.