The hallways of the east tower lay still under the night's hush, save for the soft hum of distant energy lines. Cael stood at the edge of the corridor, staring at the closed doors of Helya's residence. His AI assistant blinked a faint blue in his retina, feeding silent readings into his mind.
"Residual arcane traces detected. Origin: cloaking magic. Approximately forty-seven minutes ago."
He narrowed his eyes. Magic again. Too precise to be accidental. Too subtle for the average mage.
He stepped forward, entering the access code the palace staff had reluctantly given him. As her appointed guardian—and fiancé in name, though they barely spoke—he had enough clearance. Still, he knew how it would look. But he couldn't risk anything. Not now.
He entered her chambers.
The lights were off. The air was cool. Silent. He moved across the polished floor and sat down on the edge of her low, dark couch, placing one hand on the hilt of the sidearm at his waist—not out of threat, but out of habit.
A few minutes passed.
Then the door clicked.
Helya entered without sound, shadows curling from her cloak as she stepped in. She paused when she saw him.
Her eyes widened—just a fraction—but enough for Cael's training to catch it.
She flicked on the lights, composing herself in the half-second it took for her heart to lurch. He was sitting there, calm as winter fog, watching her with unreadable silver eyes.
"…You startled me," she said, smoothing her tone. "What are you doing here, Cael?"
He stood slowly. "I came to make sure you were safe. During patrol, I picked up something… unusual. Traces of spellcraft in your vicinity."
She arched a brow, forcing a teasing smile. "You broke into a lady's room over a hunch? Even if we're engaged, we haven't wed yet. Isn't this behavior a little—improper?"
Cael's AI flickered again.
"Energy signature consistent with recent portal or stealth magic. Faint residue on her left shoulder. Type: dark-affinity."
He said nothing of it.
"I apologize," he said instead. "You're right. I overstepped."
Helya's lips twitched, but she nodded. "Well, since you're already here, is there anything else you'd like to check?"
"No," Cael said, walking toward the door. "But you should consider relocating. This wing is poorly guarded. I've arranged for a team to escort you to the main quarters tomorrow. It's closer to my residence. Easier to protect."
She tilted her head. "Is that a request, or a command?"
"Neither," he replied, pausing at the doorway. "It's a precaution."
With that, he stepped out into the dim corridor. The door closed softly behind him.
Helya stood there, heart still, mind whirring.
He hadn't accused her.
But he had noticed something.
She turned, walked to the window, and let the moonlight wash over her face, the trace of soil and secrecy still clinging to her skin.