The sky was overcast, a thick blanket of gray hanging over the palace. The air felt heavy—wet and metallic—with the weight of an incoming storm. Thunder hadn't struck yet, but the silence was tense, expectant. As if the whole world was holding its breath.
Aiden moved through the hallways at a clipped pace, his cloak brushing sharply against the stone floor. His steps were hurried, his movements sharp with a rare sense of urgency—even more so than usual. He was dressed for travel. The note had been clear: come alone. And he intended to ride out alone, as instructed.
But, as always, his plans had a habit of unraveling.
The sound came before the interruption—the steady clank of metal against stone, armour echoing in the corridor. Familiar. Controlled. Purposeful.
Aiden's steps halted.
He didn't turn. He didn't need to.
"Your Highness," Commander Lira greeted, her voice a blade wrapped in velvet—respectful, but unmistakably edged.
Aiden exhaled slowly through his nose. "Commander," he said curtly, not turning his head.
She stepped into his line of sight with the composure of someone used to battlefields, her expression unreadable but her gaze sharp. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword—not in threat, but in readiness. Lira had heard of the doubled guard, the locked-down halls, the regent's strange behavior in recent days. And now, this.
"You're leaving," she stated. It wasn't a question.
Aiden's jaw clenched. "Not for long," he replied, clipped.
Lira didn't usually press. She didn't need to. But that answer was so unconvincing, so hollow, it bordered on insulting.
"Are you... certain, Regent?"
"Certain," he repeated, firmer this time. But not more believable.
She didn't flinch at the tone. She never did. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"The emperor's chambers are guarded like a vault since last night. Under direct orders from the regent himself, they say. Every knight in the palace reassigned. The council whispers. The servants are tense. The air is thick with fear." Her voice lowered. "You call that precaution?"
Aiden finally turned to look at her, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Good," he said simply. "That means it's working."
Lira's brows furrowed. "What's working, Regent?"
A beat passed.
Aiden's expression hardened into stone. "The enhanced protection."
"Why?"
The word hung between them, suspended like a sword mid-swing.
Aiden didn't answer right away. His fists clenched at his sides, leather gloves creaking faintly. "Because I said so."
Still, Lira didn't move. She didn't even blink. "That's not an answer, Your Highness."
"I don't owe you one, Commander," Aiden growled, low and dangerous.
Lira's fingers flexed against the hilt of her blade, but she didn't step back. "You do," she said softly, "if you're about to do something reckless."
Aiden scoffed. "You think I'm reckless?"
"I think," Lira said carefully, "you're angry. And angry men make mistakes."
That pierced deeper than he let on. His posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing, but Lira didn't stop.
"And," she added, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a low intensity, "you might not owe me an answer. But you owe one to his Majesty the Emperor."
That struck a nerve.
Aiden's gaze sharpened, muscles coiling like a blade about to snap. "You're not Elliott."
"No," she agreed. "I'm not. But I am standing between you and whatever storm you're about to walk into."
For a long second, neither of them spoke. The silence in the hallway was broken only by the faint rumble of distant thunder and the distant rhythm of marching feet. Finally, Aiden exhaled—long, quiet, and reluctant. His breath misted in the cold.
"I'm going to the border," he said at last.
Lira absorbed that. She didn't flinch. "Alone?"
"No," he snapped, bristling. "I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't ride to the border alone during wartime."
He absolutely had planned to.
Lira studied him closely. She didn't call out the lie. Instead, she stepped forward, her tone even.
"I'm coming with you."
Aiden frowned. "No. You're staying here."
"Why?"
Aiden hesitated. A dangerous pause.
They stared each other down again—each refusing to blink, to yield. It was Aiden who broke first, glancing away, jaw grinding.
"Because I need people I trust guarding Elliott."
Lira's expression darkened. "You think the imperial knights will let anything happen to him?"
Aiden's voice was a whisper—but it cut deeper than a scream. "I think," he said, every word deliberate, "that if I'm wrong about this—he'll need every blade loyal to him within reach."
Lira's eyes didn't soften. "And what about you?"
He said nothing.
She pressed, stepping into his path now. "You speak of protecting the emperor with such care... while throwing yourself into danger alone. You think his heart can be protected by steel alone?"
Aiden's eyes flashed. "What I do is—"
"—none of my business?" Lira cut in sharply. "You're right. What Aiden Rosethorne does is none of my business. But what Aiden Lancaster does, is."
Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn't waver. "You speak of guarding him from blades. But if anything happens to you, do you have any idea what that would do to him? That's not something any number of knights can defend him against."
Aiden opened his mouth. No words came out.
His body was trembling—not from fear, but from the emotion surging beneath his skin. His anger, his grief, his helplessness—all of it pressed up against the cage of his ribs. His throat tightened. His next words, when they came, were barely controlled.
"...Fine," he said. "I'll take a dozen knights. They are to follow me closely. On the surface, I ride alone."
"A dozen?" she scoffed. "Take twenty. It's the border."
"Fifteen," he shot back, tone final. "And they answer to me. Not you. Not anyone else."
Lira's lips thinned. She didn't like it—but she nodded.
Aiden turned away. He began walking.
She didn't follow.
Her voice was soft, but it carried down the stone corridor like a warning. "Don't die, Your Highness. The emperor would never forgive me."
A beat.
"...Or you."
Aiden's steps faltered—for just a moment. Then he kept walking, back straight, giving no indication that her words had landed.
But they had.
She watched him disappear into the distance, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword, brows drawn low in worry.
Outside the window, black clouds gathered. The wind howled like a herald of something cruel. A storm was coming.
Lira stared at the sky and whispered under her breath:
"God help us all."