Breakfast dissolved slowly into polite conversation and calculated laughter.
Kael kept Selene near him for most of the meal, asking her measured questions about trade, border disputes, and taxation reform. She answered confidently — brilliantly — her voice steady, her posture elegant. Lady Marisella joined in occasionally, offering charming remarks that earned faint smiles from the surrounding nobles.
I noticed everything.
Every nod of approval.
Every flicker of interest.
And I made sure to contribute very little.
When Kael's gaze shifted toward me once more, I gently redirected it.
"Lady Selene has studied northern trade more thoroughly than I have, Your Highness," I said smoothly. "Her insight would be far more valuable."
Selene glanced at me — surprised at first, then pleased.
Kael's eyes darkened slightly.
Later, when discussion turned to agricultural tariffs, I added lightly, "My sister has always had a sharper instinct for economic balance."
Push.
Redirect.
Withdraw.
Each time I offered Selene forward, Kael's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
By the time breakfast concluded, the air between us felt thin as glass.
Curtsies followed. Rustling skirts. Murmured admiration.
The girls clustered around Selene almost immediately.
"You were brilliant."
"He asked for your opinion twice."
"You must be his favorite."
Lady Marisella smiled serenely, though her eyes were sharper now. Competitive.
I slipped away quietly, unnoticed in the swell of praise.
The corridor outside the breakfast hall was calmer. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The palace felt different during the day — less threatening. Almost deceptively gentle.
I exhaled slowly.
This was good.
This was how it should be.
Selene was thriving.
She would make a remarkable queen.
"Lady Elowen."
The voice came from behind me.
Not loud.Not formal.Measured.
I turned.
Lord Alden Davenwood stood a few paces away, posture immaculate as always. In daylight I could see him clearly — sharp blue eyes, composed expression, dark hair perfectly in place. He did not look surprised to find me alone.
"Lord Davenwood," I greeted politely.
His gaze studied me — not unkindly, but perceptively.
"His Highness requests a word."
Not announces.
Not summons.
Requests.
That felt more dangerous.
"Now?" I asked.
"If you would."
He did not offer his arm. Did not gesture grandly. He simply turned, confident I would follow.
And I did.
The chamber he led me to was smaller than the court but no less deliberate. Tall windows overlooked the inner courtyard fountains. Light streamed across dark wood floors and stone walls lined with maps.
Kael stood near one of the windows.
Alone.
His back to the door.
Lord Alden stopped at the threshold.
"I will be outside," he said quietly before stepping away and closing the door.
The click echoed.
Silence.
Kael did not turn immediately.
"Enjoying the spectacle?" he asked.
I straightened. "Your Highness?"
Now he turned.
In the morning light, he looked different than he had at breakfast. Less performative. More controlled. Not careless — but less rigid. His expression was sharp. Focused.
"You made it very easy for them," he continued.
"For whom?"
"For the others to praise your sister."
My chin lifted slightly. "She deserved it."
"That was not my observation."
He stepped away from the window, slow and deliberate.
"You diminish yourself," he said.
"I do not."
"You redirect every inquiry."
"She is more suited to the role."
His jaw tightened faintly.
"You presume much."
"I support her."
"You remove yourself."
The words were sharper this time.
I held my ground. "I do not seek to compete with her."
His eyes darkened.
"And yet you do."
The statement hung between us.
"I do not want this position," I said clearly.
"Then why remain?"
The question caught me off guard.
I hesitated — only for a breath.
"Because leaving would dishonor my family."
Silence.
He studied my face carefully now — as if searching for something beneath my composure.
"You think I favor her," he said finally.
"I observed that you value her contributions."
"And Lady Marisella's?"
"You value her ambition."
A faint, humorless exhale left him.
"And what do I value in you?" he asked.
The question felt like a trap.
"I would not presume to guess."
His gaze sharpened.
"You push her toward me," he said, stepping closer. "You highlight her strengths. You make certain I see her."
"That is the point."
"And yet," he continued quietly, "you stand there as though unaffected."
My pulse quickened.
"I am unaffected."
That earned me the smallest flicker of irritation from him.
"Yes," he said softly. "That is precisely the problem."
The air shifted.
He stepped closer again — not threatening, but close enough that the space between us felt charged.
"You believe I dislike you," he said.
"You insult me publicly," I replied evenly. "It would be a reasonable conclusion."
"If I disliked you," he said, voice lowering, "I would not notice every time you deflect attention."
My breath faltered.
"You notice," I said quietly.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No softness.
Just truth.
"And I do not appreciate being maneuvered."
"I am not maneuvering you, Your Highness. I am advocating for someone who wants what I do not."
His gaze searched mine.
"And what is it that you want, Lady Elowen?"
The question lingered.
I did not answer.
Because I did not know.
Because I could not afford to.
Finally, he stepped back.
Mask restored.
"Be careful," he said coolly. "In attempting to control the board, you may misjudge the pieces."
My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
"I do not play games, Your Highness."
A faint, almost dangerous smile touched his mouth.
"Everyone here plays games."
He moved toward the door and opened it himself.
"You are dismissed."
I stepped past him, pulse racing.
Just before I crossed the threshold, his voice followed me.
"Next time," he said quietly, "do not assume you know where my attention lies."
The door closed behind me.
And for the first time since arriving at the palace—
I was no longer certain I was protecting my sister.