The town was quieter than expected.
Dust drifted lazily through the warm afternoon air as merchants closed their stalls and the guards at the gate finished inspecting the royal seal on the message they had delivered.
In the stone courtyard of the governor's residence, Dorian leaned against a pillar, arms folded loosely across his chest.
Across from him, Brooke was speaking animatedly.
"You could at least pretend to care about what I'm saying," Brooke sighed.
Dorian smirked slightly. "I am pretending."
Brooke rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."
He was about to say something else when footsteps echoed across the courtyard.
Both men turned.
Zion walked in, his expression serious, dust still clinging to his cloak from the road.
Dorian noticed immediately.
His gaze shifted back to Brooke.
"You're dismissed."
Brooke blinked. "Excuse me?"
Dorian jerked his chin toward the gate.
"Go check on the horses. Or annoy someone else."
Brooke looked between the two men, sensing the tension.
"…Right."
He gave Zion a brief nod before walking away.
The courtyard fell quiet.
Only the distant sounds of the town drifted in through the open archways.
Zion stepped closer.
His eyes never left Dorian.
"Exactly what are you after?"
Dorian raised a brow slightly.
"That's an interesting way to start a conversation."
"You know what I mean," Zion said flatly.
Dorian tilted his head.
"Do enlighten me."
Zion's jaw tightened.
"You keep saying you're not interested in Cyma."
Dorian said nothing.
"But you're always around her," Zion continued. "Always watching. Always stepping in."
He took another step closer.
"You make her feel safe around you."
Dorian's lips curved slowly.
"Is that a problem?"
Zion's eyes narrowed.
"You tell me."
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then Dorian chuckled softly.
"Zion… are you jealous?"
Zion scoffed immediately.
"I have nothing to be jealous of."
Dorian's smile deepened.
"Oh?"
Zion crossed his arms.
"Cyma will always remain my best friend."
Dorian nodded thoughtfully.
"And your half sister."
The words dropped into the air like a stone in still water.
Zion froze.
His eyes widened slightly.
Very few people knew that truth.
Almost no one.
Not even Cyma.
Slowly, Zion's hand moved.
Steel flashed.
His sword was out in a heartbeat, the blade stopping inches from Dorian's throat.
"How do you know that?"
Dorian didn't even flinch.
Instead, he looked mildly amused.
"The Queen Mother told me."
Zion's grip tightened on the sword.
"She also asked me to look after Cyma," Dorian continued calmly. "That's why I'm always around her."
Zion searched his face carefully.
"For her protection," Dorian added.
"And nothing else?"
Dorian shrugged lightly.
"I told you before. I have no hidden motives."
Zion's eyes hardened.
"And if you did?"
Dorian's gaze flickered with quiet amusement.
"Then it would simply be to marry her."
Zion blinked.
"…What?"
Dorian pushed himself away from the pillar.
"Which, conveniently, wouldn't be difficult."
He brushed invisible dust from his sleeve.
"Considering she's already my fiancée."
Zion slowly lowered his sword.
The courtyard was suddenly very quiet.
"You truly expect me to believe that?" Zion asked.
Dorian met his eyes calmly.
Zion studied him for a long moment before asking quietly,
"Do you actually like Cyma?"
Dorian said nothing.
Zion's voice sharpened.
"Or do you just feel obligated to her?"
For the first time, something unreadable flickered in Dorian's eyes.
But he didn't answer.
Instead, he turned and walked toward the courtyard exit.
"Cyma will be waiting for us back in the city."
Zion frowned.
Dorian paused briefly at the archway.
"We should start moving."
He glanced back slightly.
"I'd rather not keep a princess waiting."
And with that, he walked away.
Leaving Zion standing alone in the courtyard, staring after him — with far more questions than answers.
The morning sun had barely risen above the hills when the group finally prepared to leave town.
Horses were lined up in the courtyard of the small inn where they had rested the night before. Armor clinked softly as the men adjusted their gear, the cool air still carrying traces of the previous night's exhaustion.
Zion stood beside his horse, tightening the strap on his saddle.
A few steps away, **Dorian** mounted his horse with his usual calm confidence.
Or at least… he tried to.
The horse shifted suddenly.
Dorian misjudged the movement.
His foot slipped.
And before anyone could react—
**THUD.**
Dorian fell straight to the ground.
For a moment, the entire courtyard went silent.
**Brooke's** eyes widened.
Several of the men stared.
Even the horses seemed startled.
The ever-composed Dorian Blackwood had just fallen off his horse.
Zion stared at him on the ground.
"…You're kidding me."
Dorian rubbed his shoulder slightly, clearly annoyed with himself.
Before he could stand—
A hand suddenly appeared in front of him.
Dorian paused.
Slowly, he looked up.
It was **Zion**.
For a brief moment, even the surrounding soldiers looked shocked.
Zion… helping Dorian?
Dorian studied him for a second.
Then he took the hand.
Zion pulled him up with a firm grip.
Once Dorian was steady again, Zion stepped back and crossed his arms.
"You know too much."
The courtyard fell quiet again.
Dorian didn't speak.
Zion's gaze was sharp.
"About Cyma."
Dorian didn't deny it.
Zion continued,
"The fact that **Queen Mother** trusts you enough to tell you things like that…"
His jaw tightened slightly.
"…and trusts you to look after Cyma."
He exhaled slowly.
"Then who am I to say no?"
Brooke raised an eyebrow slightly from where he stood.
Zion pointed a finger directly at Dorian.
"But don't misunderstand."
His voice turned cold.
"I'm not your ally."
Dorian watched him calmly.
"I'm not your friend either."
Zion's gaze hardened.
"And I'm definitely not your rival."
The men around them held their breath.
Zion stepped closer.
"If you ever do anything that hurts Cyma…"
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
"I will kill you."
Silence.
A long silence.
Then—
Dorian smiled faintly.
He didn't look threatened.
He didn't look offended.
Instead, he looked… satisfied.
His eyes shifted briefly toward **Brooke**.
The look was quick.
But Brooke understood immediately.
He smirked slightly.
**Mission accomplished.**
Just as **Quentin** had planned.
Zion had finally taken a side.
Not Dorian's side.
But **Cyma's** side.
And for now…
That was more than enough.
Dorian dusted off his coat calmly.
"Good."
Zion frowned slightly.
Dorian mounted his horse again, this time carefully.
"Because the last thing I want…"
He looked down at Zion with a faint, teasing smile.
"…is to have an enemy standing beside Cyma."
Zion scoffed.
"Don't get comfortable."
Dorian chuckled softly.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Then he turned his horse toward the road.
"We should leave."
His voice carried calmly across the courtyard.
"I'd rather not keep my princess waiting."