The hours passed in strained silence. Alaric and Asher returned to their quarters at the estate, though neither spoke a word as they walked through the opulent halls. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across their path, heightening the sense that they were being watched, even though the estate was empty of immediate threats.
Asher's thoughts churned, his mind grappling with what had just transpired. Valden's words still echoed in his ears. "Your weakness is standing right next to you."
He couldn't shake the feeling that the noble's threat wasn't just about him. There was something more. Something darker lurking beneath the surface. Valden wasn't merely after Alaric's throne—he was playing a deeper game, and Asher was suddenly a piece in it.
They reached the door to Alaric's chamber, the guards standing rigidly at attention. Asher gave them a fleeting glance before stepping inside, the heavy wooden door closing behind them.
Alaric moved to the window, staring out at the estate's sprawling gardens, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak immediately, but the tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken words.
Finally, Alaric spoke, his voice low, betraying none of the vulnerability Asher knew was lurking just beneath the surface. "I should have anticipated this. Valden's ambition is… boundless."
"Ambition and desperation can be a deadly combination," Asher muttered, his eyes narrowing as he took a seat near the fireplace. He leaned back, watching Alaric's silhouette in the dim light.
"You think he's dangerous?" Alaric asked, his tone detached but with an edge of something more—a challenge, perhaps.
"I don't think it," Asher replied, his voice steady. "I know it. Valden's not just playing for the throne. He's playing to control everything—every noble house, every council seat, every soldier."
Alaric turned, a dark look in his eyes. "And you think I don't know that?"
Asher raised an eyebrow. "You've been too focused on your enemies outside these walls. Valden has already dug his claws deep within the kingdom. He has spies, allies in every corner of the court. He's been planning this for years."
Alaric's jaw tightened, his gaze flaring with a mix of frustration and defiance. "Then what would you have me do? Hand him the kingdom without a fight?"
Asher stood, walking toward the window beside him. The air in the room was suffocating, charged with the weight of Alaric's unspoken anger. He didn't respond immediately. His gaze swept over the estate's distant towers, his mind racing through possibilities.
"Valden won't play fair," Asher said finally, breaking the silence. "He'll use anything—and anyone—to get what he wants. You're a king, Alaric, but in his eyes, you're just another obstacle to remove."
"I know," Alaric said softly, the words almost bitter. "But what do you suggest I do? We can't expose him for the snake he is without evidence."
"Then we find the evidence," Asher replied, his voice suddenly sharp. "We don't sit around waiting for him to strike first. We go after him, dig up whatever dirt we can find on him and his allies. If we can tear down his web, we can crush his plans before they ever take root."
Alaric turned fully to face him now, his gaze intense, studying Asher as though he were seeing him in a new light. "You're suggesting we play his game? Fight dirty?"
"It's the only way to win." Asher's tone was matter-of-fact. "If you think Valden will back down simply because you're the king, you're wrong. He'll never stop. He'll tear you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left."
Alaric seemed to consider this, his fingers tightening around the edge of the windowsill. "And you think you're the man to lead me in this fight?"
Asher's lips quirked into a smirk, the sharpness of his words cutting through the tension. "You wouldn't have asked for my help if you didn't need someone who knew how to get their hands dirty."
The moment hung between them, fraught with tension, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
Alaric's gaze softened slightly, his expression turning from cold resolve to something almost vulnerable. "I'm not a fool, Asher. I know this kingdom is built on lies, betrayal, and manipulation. But I didn't think you'd understand so well."
Asher's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the unspoken weight of those words. "You think I'm a pawn, don't you?"
Alaric hesitated for a long moment before nodding. "I thought you were just another shadow, a tool to be used. But you're not."
The silence stretched out between them, thick with the weight of their shared realization. Asher wasn't just a weapon in Alaric's hand. He had become something more—something dangerous. Something that could shift the balance of power.
A soft knock on the door broke the tension, and Alaric's attention snapped back to the present.
"Your Majesty," the voice outside called, "a messenger from the capital."
Alaric's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with irritation. "What now?"
"Should I send him in?"
"Fine." Alaric's voice was terse as he moved to the door, his expression darkening.
The messenger entered, a young man with an anxious look on his face. "Your Majesty, urgent news."
"Speak." Alaric's tone was sharp.
"The nobles are gathering. There are whispers of rebellion. Lord Valden has already rallied half the court to his side." The messenger's voice wavered as he spoke. "They're planning to move against you—soon."
Alaric stood silent for a moment, his eyes flicking to Asher, then back to the messenger. His resolve hardened.
"Prepare the men," Alaric ordered. "We'll strike first. And make sure no one leaves the estate without my say."
As the messenger hurried out, Alaric turned to Asher, his voice low but resolute. "We'll take the fight to them. But first, we need to find out who else is playing Valden's game."
Asher nodded. "And we'll make sure they regret it."