The grand hall of Solrion was alive with light and music, a striking contrast to the tense air hanging over the gathering. Nobles adorned in shimmering silk and velvet filled the room, their faces painted with polite smiles that concealed whispered betrayals. The occasion was meant to celebrate Lyanna's official acknowledgment as the rightful heir to Serathia, but the undercurrent of danger was unmistakable.
Lyanna stood at the edge of the dais, regal in a dark sapphire gown that clung to her frame like a second skin. Her crown—a delicate circlet of silver and onyx—gleamed under the chandeliers, but the weight of it pressed down on her skull like iron. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to pierce through her, their judgment palpable.
From the balcony above, Kalen observed silently, his posture tense. He had chosen the shadows over mingling with the crowd, a habit Lyanna was beginning to recognize as his form of control. His eyes followed her every move, and though his expression was unreadable, the slight clenching of his jaw betrayed his unease.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Your Highness," murmured a voice behind him. Sorin, the guild's shadowy leader, emerged from the darkness, his movements as fluid as water. "Putting her out there like this. Every assassin in the room must be licking their lips."
"She's stronger than you think," Kalen replied curtly, his tone colder than usual. "And so am I."
Sorin chuckled, stepping closer. "And yet, you can't take your eyes off her. You fear what could happen the moment you blink, don't you? Funny how the mighty Kalen, the guild's most ruthless weapon, has become... tethered."
Kalen shot him a warning glance, but Sorin only smirked, leaning against the balcony's railing. "Don't let your heart blind you, old friend. She might be the future queen, but the game we're playing doesn't allow for sentiment."
Down below, Lyanna forced a smile as Duke Ellarion approached her, his calculating gaze sizing her up. He was one of the kingdom's most influential nobles and a known ally of Lorian Thorne, her rival claimant. His bow was shallow, his words smoother than silk.
"Your Grace, you are the very image of your mother," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "It's a shame she isn't here to see this... momentous occasion."
Lyanna's stomach twisted, but she held her composure. "Thank you, Duke Ellarion. My mother's memory guides me every step of the way. I trust her wisdom will light my path, just as it has illuminated yours."
Ellarion's smile faltered briefly, but he recovered, offering her a goblet of wine. "To Serathia's future, then. May it be... prosperous."
She accepted the goblet, her fingers brushing the cold metal. But as she lifted it to her lips, a flicker of movement caught her eye. A glint of steel reflected in the goblet's surface.
Time slowed.
The assassin moved swiftly, their blade aimed directly at her heart. Gasps erupted from the crowd as the attack unfolded, but Lyanna didn't freeze. Instead, she pivoted with a speed that surprised even herself, the blade slicing through the air where she had stood moments before.
Before she could react further, Kalen was there. He descended from the balcony like a shadow, his blade drawn and eyes blazing with fury. The assassin barely had time to turn before Kalen disarmed them with ruthless efficiency, driving them to the ground with a single, well-placed blow.
The room erupted into chaos, nobles shouting and guards scrambling to restore order. Lyanna's heart pounded as Kalen rose, dragging the assassin up by the collar. His voice was low, venomous.
"Who sent you?"
The assassin only sneered, blood trickling from the corner of their mouth. "Long live Lorian Thorne."
Before Kalen could strike again, Lyanna placed a hand on his arm. "Enough," she said firmly, though her voice trembled slightly. "Let the guards take them. This isn't the place for executions."
For a moment, Kalen didn't move. His jaw tightened, his hand twitching around the hilt of his blade. But finally, he relented, shoving the assassin into the waiting arms of the guards.
As they dragged the assailant away, Kalen turned to Lyanna, his expression a storm of anger and concern. "You should have had more guards. This was reckless."
"And hidden behind a wall of swords?" she shot back, her voice sharp. "I won't rule as a coward. If they want me dead, they'll have to try harder than this."
His eyes darkened. "They will. And next time, I might not get to you in time."
Their gazes locked, the tension between them thick and unspoken. Lyanna's resolve faltered for a fraction of a second under the weight of his words.
"I didn't ask for your protection," she whispered.
"You don't have to," he replied, his voice soft but unyielding. "It's not something I can turn off.