The carriage wheels rumbled softly over the cobbled stone path that wound toward the East Wing. Lanterns along the palace walls flickered in the night breeze, their dim glow casting fleeting shadows through the small window at Alexander's side. Inside, silence reigned heavier than the thick velvet curtains.
Sophia sat opposite him, hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed just beyond the glass as if the gardens passing outside could shield her from his presence. Her posture was flawless, every line of her noble bearing precise, but her refusal to meet his eyes struck Alexander more deeply than any words could.
He did not ask. She did not offer.
And so the quiet stretched between them, charged and suffocating.
Alexander leaned slightly back against the padded seat, storm-gray eyes locked on her profile. Outwardly, his expression remained a mask of cold indifference. Inwardly, however, unease gnawed at him with merciless teeth.
She swallowed something before the toast. Something she concealed even from me. Why? Why hide it? Why not trust me, when she risks herself so openly before others?
He replayed the moment in the garden...the subtle flicker of Damien's hand, the capsule passed, Sophia's slight tilt of her head, the movement so discreet none but he could have noticed. And then her lips, parting just enough to swallow it before raising her wine with a serene, unbroken smile.
Not once had her mask slipped.
But his had nearly cracked.
The carriage jolted gently as it rolled through the last archway, entering the courtyard of the East Wing. Torches lined the path, their flames fluttering under the night's chill, bathing the stone in amber light.
When the wheels stilled, Alexander's gaze followed Sophia as she gracefully gathered her skirts, rising with composure that belied the unease he suspected churned within her.
Damien opened the door, bowing slightly as Sophia descended first. Her handmaidens hovered nearby, but Sophia dismissed them with a calm nod. She paused at the base of the steps, turned, and curtsied low before Alexander's chair was wheeled down.
Her voice was soft, composed, but deliberately formal. "Rest well tonight, Your Highness."
The curtsy was deep, respectful...yet the distance in it struck sharper than a blade. Without waiting for dismissal, she straightened, glided down the corridor toward her chambers, and vanished into the shadows of the East Wing.
Alexander's jaw tightened, though he gave no outward sign beyond the faintest narrowing of his eyes. His silence followed her retreating figure, but his thoughts roared.
She dares leave me so? Without a word of explanation?
Damien's hands tightened faintly on the handles of the chair, sensing the storm in his master though Alexander's expression betrayed nothing.
The fire in his study chamber burned low, the golden glow flickering against shelves of ancient tomes and carved stone. Alexander sat with his hands pressed lightly against the armrests, his sharp profile turned toward the flames. The steady crackle of burning logs filled the silence until his voice cut through, cold and precise.
"Damien. Earlier, in the gardens—you gave her something."
The knight, standing a pace behind, bowed his head. "Yes, Your Highness."
Alexander's eyes shifted, locking on him with steel. "What was it?"
A pause lingered, taut and heavy, before Damien spoke. "This morning, Lady Sophia entrusted me with four capsules. She instructed that they were antidotes, against poisons and drugs that may be slipped into food or wine."
Alexander's fingers curled once against the wood. Antidotes. She carried them with her.... expected danger tonight.
Damien continued, his tone steady. "She said that if she gave a signal, I was to discreetly provide her with one. Tonight, she signaled. She required protection against a drug."
The words sank into Alexander like lead weights, dragging him into depths he despised. His expression remained controlled, but his pulse thundered beneath the calm.
She knew. She prepared for treachery yet said nothing to me. She placed her trust in her own secrecy, in Damien's hand, not in mine. Why? Does she not see—?
His storm-gray eyes darkened further, shadows gathering in their depths.
"Take me to her chambers," he commanded, voice low but cutting as steel.
The corridor to Sophia's rooms lay hushed, lit only by dim lanterns spaced far apart. Their glow carved soft pools of light on the polished floor, leaving long stretches swallowed by shadow.
As they neared, Alexander caught sight of one of Sophia's handmaidens rushing past, clutching a steaming basin. The girl startled at the sudden presence of prince and knight, nearly spilling the water before bowing hastily.
She did not meet Alexander's gaze as she stammered, "Forgive me, Your Highness, the lady requires warm water at once," and fled down the hall.
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly, though he remained silent as Damien pushed open the chamber door, its hinges whispering against the stillness.
Within, the chamber glowed faintly with lamplight, shadows pressing close at the edges. A sound carried from the adjoining washroom...harsh, strained, unmistakable.
Dry heaving. Sophia's voice, ragged with effort.
Alexander stilled, his chest tightening. His hands clenched the armrests of his chair, but he did not cross the threshold. He waited, silent and immovable, granting her the dignity of enduring unseen even as each sound clawed at him.
Moments later, Sophia emerged.
Her face was pale, her lips pressed tight against the lingering tremor of nausea. A damp cloth hung from one hand, and though her gown remained orderly, the faint sheen of perspiration on her brow betrayed the truth of her struggle.
When she raised her gaze, her eyes widened faintly, startlement flashing before composure settled like a veil once more.
Alexander's voice broke the silence. Calm, cold, yet heavy with restrained intensity.
"The drug... The antidote and Your condition."
The words were deliberate, inescapable, his gaze unwavering as it pinned her in place.
"Explain."
The firelight flickered between them, shadows dancing across stone walls and silken curtains, as silence once again fell heavy, yet this time it thrummed with tension, questions, and truths no longer avoidable.
The unspoken question hanging between them like a blade suspended by the thinnest thread.