The Shadowpeak Castle was less a sanctuary of salvation for Evelyn, and more a frigid, formidable factory. It was a machine that generated the silver coin required for her family's survival. Evelyn's total focus was on the small leather pouch where she stashed the three copper pieces at the end of each day's work. Every cent represented her father's cough and her little sister's frail, hungry cheeks.
She stood at the very bottom of the palace hierarchy. She was a mortal, and most crucially, she was insignificant. This insignificance was her thickest armor, shielding her from the sharp teeth of court politics.
Since the moment the Guard Regiment Alpha leader delivered her to the Chief Healer, Evelyn's life had settled into a strict routine. She woke before dawn, cleaned the cold infirmary, prepared herbs, and treated the minor injuries of Lycan warriors or palace servants.
A Cold Light from a Distance
Alpha King Damon was a fixed part of Evelyn's life, yet he was as untouchable as the full moon in the sky. Damon was usually either in the war council or patrolling the borders. However, on the days he was present in the castle, even Evelyn's routine became fraught with tension.
Damon's presence altered the very structure of the castle. Even the air seemed to grow taut. Evelyn most often saw him striding swiftly across the main courtyard toward the Sovereign Tower. He always wore garments made of dark, embroidered fabrics, and the stony cold expression on his face was a stronger shield than his armor.
Every time Evelyn saw Damon, her instinct was to retreat quickly. His power was too heavy, too immense for a mortal to withstand. But once, while she was passing the infirmary's back garden, she caught sight of him on the balcony of the King's Tower.
Damon stood there alone that day. Down in the courtyard, the princesses and concubines from neighboring kingdoms paraded in their latest ostentatious clothing, but Damon's eyes were fixed on the horizon. His face held a deep loneliness, something far removed from the cold authority he showed the masses. For a moment, Evelyn thought of him less as a king and more as a prisoner burdened by an overwhelming fate. This was the first, secret curiosity a mortal felt toward the King.
The Concubines and the Lack of Jealousy
Despite the hundreds of women filling the palace, Evelyn was never targeted by their jealousy. This was due to two factors:
Low Status: Evelyn was merely human, poor, and nameless. To a Queen candidate, she was no more than a weed adorning the castle walls. The chance of the King noticing her was as remote as the moon shining during the day.
The Silent Oath: Evelyn had clearly stated to the Chief Healer that her only purpose there was money. The Chief Healer, Lysandra, kept Evelyn as far out of sight as possible to protect her simple, unromantic motive from the palace gossip machine. Evelyn's only true love was her family's survival.
This situation granted Evelyn a rare advantage: permission to observe.
Evelyn watched the drama of the palace concubines and princesses from afar. These women tried every trick to melt King Damon's icy heart: a whispered rumor, a silk scarf dropped at just the wrong moment, or, most dangerously, a deliberately spread lie. Their competition was a textbook for Evelyn's life. Within these high walls, she realized that love was merely a tool of politics.
The Rising Tension
Toward the end of the chapter, the atmosphere begins to shift. News from the border territories becomes more frequent and more alarming.
"The King is struggling against those cursed tribes in the north," whispered Martha, the elderly healer, while stirring her herbs. "Their magic is unnatural. They are using elemental poison."
Evelyn's heart quickened. Elemental poison... that was her own hidden talent. Since childhood, she had possessed a unique sensitivity to neutralizing toxic plants and substances.
One late afternoon, the entire castle shook with the sound of a mounted regiment arriving at the main gates. Exhausted, bloody warriors rushed inside. Panic and fear filled the air.
Evelyn stood at the infirmary door. Her eyes fixed on the Alpha leader of the Command Regiment. The man's face was white with panic.
"Where is the King?" the Chief Healer demanded.
The Alpha responded, gasping: "He stayed at the border. The battle continues, but... the cursed blade struck him. Hurry! Help is needed!"
Evelyn's fingertips suddenly tingled. The cursed blade. Magic poison. Her safe, insignificant haven, which she entered solely for her family, had instantly become the epicenter of the King's deadly fate.