A week has passed since the bells.
Grief has already been folded into protocol. Black banners still hang from the balconies, but the palace no longer mourns. It prepares.
Tomorrow, Cassian will be crowned.
Today, I am confined.
Four guards stand outside my chamber doors at all hours. I hear the shift of their boots when they change positions. The scrape of armor when they adjust their stance.
They do not speak unless addressed. They do not leave.
It was his order.
"For your safety," he had said.
The first night they appeared, I opened the door myself and stared at them. "Am I a prisoner," I asked evenly.
"No, Your Grace," the captain replied. "You are protected."
"Protection that feels like a cage is still a cage," I thought.
Cassian came to me late that evening, exhaustion shadowing his features. He did not remove his gloves when he entered.
"This is temporary," he said before I could speak. "Until the coronation is complete."
"And after," I asked.
"After I am crowned, the target shifts fully to me."
"As if it is not already on you," I replied.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If anyone wishes to wound me before the crown touches my head, they will reach for you."
The certainty in his tone unsettled me.
"You believe they would harm me simply to unsettle you."
"Yes."
He did not hesitate.
I studied him carefully. "And locking me away will not unsettle me."
His jaw tightened. "Your discomfort is preferable to your blood."
The bluntness stole the rest of my argument.
Still, when he left that night, the guards remained.
The days since have been suffocating.
Servants come and go, delivering food, gowns, updates. I walk the length of my chamber until the walls begin to feel closer than they are.
From the windows I can see the courtyard below, filled with workers polishing armor and raising banners stitched with Cassian's crest.
King.
The word feels heavier each time I think it.
This morning he came earlier than usual. The crown had been fitted the night before. I could see the strain of it in his posture, as though the metal already pressed into his thoughts.
"There is something else," he said after a long silence.
I waited.
"After the coronation, I will travel to Rowan's kingdom."
My stomach tightened.
"So soon."
"Yes."
"For war."
"For control," he corrected. "They must see me. They must understand that weakness will not follow succession."
I rose slowly from my seat. "You killed their prince."
"And they would have killed me," he replied evenly.
The air between us shifted.
"You cannot go there now," I said. "Not while grief is fresh. Not while anger is sharp."
"If I delay," he answered, "it becomes hesitation."
"And if you go," I countered, "it becomes provocation."
He watched me carefully. Measuring.
"You are afraid for me," he observed.
"Yes."
The honesty surprised us both.
He stepped closer but did not touch me.
"Fear does not dictate my rule."
"No," I said quietly. "But wisdom should."
For a moment, I thought I saw doubt flicker in his expression.
"You think I should remain," he said.
"I think you should let the crown settle before you march into a kingdom that already calls you murderer."
Silence.
His gaze drifted to the window, toward the distant hills that marked the border.
"I cannot appear cautious," he said at last.
"And I cannot bear to watch you make enemies faster than you can defeat them."
The words slipped out before I could soften them.
He looked back at me then, something tense and unreadable in his eyes.
"You will remain here tomorrow as well," he said. "Until the ceremony concludes."
"With the guards."
"With the guards."
I exhaled slowly.
"You are about to become king," I thought. "And already the world is pulling you away."
When he turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"I will consider what you said," he added, without looking at me.
It was not agreement.
But it was not dismissal.
The guards resumed their silent vigil as he disappeared down the corridor.
I returned to the window, watching preparations intensify as evening fell.
Tomorrow, the crown would touch his head.
And after that, he would either stay beside me long enough to learn patience.
Or ride toward war, leaving me behind these guarded doors, waiting for news that might break more than kingdoms.
"I will convince him," I thought. "Even kings can be persuaded."