The music was louder than necessary.
Or perhaps… Sylis simply no longer heard it clearly.
Voices blended with polished laughter. Silk flowed over marble. Gold reflected candlelight as if the hall had been built to shine, not to breathe.
She stood where she had been placed.
Still.
Unseen.
"Lady Thorne."
The voice came closer than it should have.
She turned.
Lord Carrow — smiling too easily, bowing slightly less than etiquette required.
"I almost thought the Baron was hiding you on purpose."
His gaze lingered longer than politeness allowed.
Sylis tilted her head slightly.
"My husband hides nothing, my lord."
He chuckled softly.
"Really? A woman like you? In this court?"
He stepped closer.
Closer than he should.
"I would have introduced myself sooner… had your husband not been excessively occupied."
She shifted lightly, the tray in her hands becoming a fragile excuse for distance.
"I am not part of court affairs, my lord."
"Oh…" he murmured, "that is precisely why you are important."
His fingers brushed the edge of the tray.
Deliberate.
Testing.
"Do not trouble my servant."
The voice did not rise.
It did not need to.
A circular silence formed around them before anyone chose it.
Carrow froze.
Then immediately stepped back.
"Your Majesty." He bowed, color draining from his face.
The King stood only a few steps away.
Not hurried.
Not angry.
Simply watching.
"I meant no offense."
"I am certain you did not," the King replied smoothly. "Which is why it will not happen again."
Carrow bowed deeper this time.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
He withdrew quickly.
Faster than dignity allowed.
The King turned to Sylis.
His expression softened… slightly.
"You look tired."
"I am well, Your Majesty."
"You were distracted." He said it as an observation, not a question.
"For some time."
Sylis lowered her gaze.
"The hall is somewhat overwhelming."
"It can be."
He paused.
"If you are tired, you may withdraw."
The words sounded like care.
Generosity.
But he did not remove his eyes from her.
Not once.
"I would not wish to disrupt the celebration."
"You would not."
A brief silence.
Then he added, lighter:
"It is not intended that you feel uncomfortable here."
The sentence hung strangely in the air.
As if the hall itself disagreed.
Sylis inclined her head.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
He watched her for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then stepped aside.
But his gaze followed her as she walked away.
---
The private office door closed with a muted sound.
The King did not remove his gloves immediately.
Morven stood near the desk, aware something had shifted.
"You requested me, Your Majesty?"
The King slowly removed one glove.
"Tell me, Marrow…"
A pause.
"How did Baron Thorne marry?"
Morven blinked.
"He married, Your Majesty?"
"The woman."
He did not say her name.
Morven chose his words carefully.
"It was before the title. A private marriage."
"Arranged?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"Strategic?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Marrow hesitated, then added carefully,
"They appear… deeply attached. It is said their bond is strong."
The King tapped the desk once.
His patience thinning.
"Then why her?"
Morven swallowed.
"They knew each other from earlier years… before the capital."
The King's gaze sharpened.
Not emotional.
Analytical.
"Find the details."
Marrow stiffened.
"Your Majesty?"
"How they met. Who introduced them. What she was before the marriage."
A short silence.
"And whether anyone ever laid claim to her."
The room grew colder.
Morven lowered his head.
"As you command."
The King moved toward the window.
The celebration continued below — bright, loud, unaware.
"She does not belong in that hall."
It did not sound like pity.
Nor desire.
It sounded like assessment.
"And I do not favor unresolved matters."
Behind him, Morven remained still.
The King added, as if recalling a minor detail:
"Discreetly."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Before Morven reached the door, the King's voice stopped him.
"Marrow."
He turned immediately.
"If Lady Sylis remains at the celebration… send her home at once."
Marrow blinked in surprise.
"Has something occurred, Your Majesty? With Lady Sylis?"
"She appears tired."
"I will see to it. I shall arrange a carriage."
The King merely nodded.
When Marrow left, the King remained by the window.
Looking at the lights.
Not the people.
And somewhere within the palace…
A decision had already begun to move.
Quietly.
Without return.
---
Outside, away from the brighter garden lights, Sylis stood in a half-shadowed corner.
Close enough to the celebration.
Far enough to breathe.
Why is His Majesty concerned with me?
Why does my fatigue trouble him?
Why?
"Lady Sylis."
She startled.
Marrow.
She bowed quickly.
"I have been searching for you."
She looked at him carefully.
"Has something happened, Lord Marrow?"
He glanced around.
"It is quiet here."
She did not understand.
He stepped beside her, both leaning lightly against the stone wall overlooking the illuminated garden.
"No wonder I struggled to find you. The view is pleasant."
"I apologize. I did not mean to trouble you. I only needed some air."
He smiled faintly.
"You resemble His Majesty in that regard."
"Pardon?"
"The fatigue with celebrations. His Majesty also finds them… tiresome."
She stared at him.
He laughed softly.
"That is precisely the expression you are making, Lady Sylis."
"Why were you searching for me?"
"By His Majesty's order. A carriage has been prepared to take you home. You appear truly tired. Do not refuse the King's generosity."
A pause.
"You have little room to decline, Lady Sylis. Allow me to escort you."
She did not understand any of it.
But she followed.
And the questions only multiplied.
---
Meanwhile — The Back Garden of the Annex
John had never heard silence like this.
The rear garden of the annex was not a garden.
It was an abandoned stretch of hardened soil, cracked and unwilling.
The air smelled of dust instead of bloom.
No roses.
No trimmed hedges.
No careful symmetry.
Only earth that did not respond.
At first, he waited.
As if the soil might recognize him.
As if roots might stir in apology.
He knelt anyway.
Out of habit.
His hands searched for softness that did not exist.
He spoke to the ground once.
Quietly.
"Everything has its time."
The King's words.
He did not know whether they had been spoken about the flower.
Or about him.
The next morning, he brought water.
There was nothing to water.
The day after, he began clearing stones.
No one had asked him to.
He could not remain still.
At night, he dreamed of color.
In the morning, he faced gray.
He did not understand why it felt as though something more than a flower had been removed.
But he understood one thing clearly:
This was not relocation.
It was subtraction.
And in a palace where nothing was recorded…
Some punishments left no mark —
Except in the soil.