Lyra couldn't get her eyelids to stay shut.
Too many failed attempts in one night.
The bed was too soft.
The room too large.
The silence too… safe.
It felt like a trap disguised as comfort.
So she stayed by the window instead.
Watching.
Memorizing.
The palace courtyard below shifted in patterns—guards rotating, patrols overlapping, archers repositioning along the towers.
They did in efficient and disciplined motion
All of it, predictable.
By the time dawn broke, Lyra had already mapped three escape routes.
And two ways to kill a guard without alerting the others.
Just in case.
A knock came.
Sharp.
Lyra didn't turn.
"Enter."
The servant who stepped in looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"His Majesty requests your presence."
Lyra raised a brow.
"Requests?"
Short silence.
"…requires."
Better.
The walk took longer than necessary.
Twisting corridors. Narrow turns. Too many blind spots.
Intentional.
By the time they reached the iron doors, Lyra was certain of one thing—
This wasn't a social visit.
"The training hall," the servant said, bowing quickly before retreating.
The doors opened.
Light spilled in.
Steel glinted.
And at the center of it—
Kael.
No crown.
No throne.
Just a blade in his hand and control in every inch of his posture.
Lyra stopped.
"You're joking."
He tilted his head.
"About?"
"You want to spar."
"I want to know what I'm marrying."
"You already know."
"You missed."
"Barely."
"Still counts."
Lyra exhaled.
Then stepped inside.
"Fine."
She picked a blade from the rack.
It was heavy but she mustered her balance almost immediately.
Not her style.
But it would do.
They circled in silence.
Lyra watched everything—his stance, his grip, the subtle shift of his weight.
He wasn't just trained.
He was precise.
"Ready?" he asked.
She moved first.
Fast.
A direct strike that was blocked instantly.
Steel rang.
They moved again.
Closer to each other this time.
Faster.
Lyra pressed forward, forcing him back across the floor.
Strike.
Turn.
Feint.
Counter.
Kael met every attack like he'd already seen it coming.
"You're holding back," she said.
Catching each breath that was fast escaping from her lungs.
"Of course."
"That's insulting."
His gaze sharpened.
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
Lyra smiled.
"Yes."
The next strike came like lightning.
She barely avoided it.
"Better."
Now it was real.
Their rhythm snapped into something sharper—dangerous.
Lyra spun under his blade, cutting toward his ribs—
Kael caught her wrist.
Pulled her in.
Too close.
Her breath hitched—just slightly.
His grip was firm.
Controlled.
Unyielding.
For a second neither of them moved.
Then the doors slammed shut.
The sound cracked through the hall.
Both of them turned.
The iron doors locked.
A heavy bar dropped into place from the outside.
Kael's expression changed.
"That shouldn't happen."
Lyra pulled free.
"Someone just made sure it did."
She dashed to the door.
It was sealed. Completely.
"Controlled from outside," Kael said quietly.
Lyra leaned her head briefly against the metal.
"Your court is bold."
"Too bold."
A sound slid across the room.
Soft.
Dragging.
Lyra turned.
The shadows along the far wall were moving.
Not flickering.
Not shifting.
Moving.
Slowly spreading across the floor.
Her pulse spiked.
Kael's voice cut through the air…
"Step away from the door."
"Why?"
"Now."
Something in his tone required response rather than questioning.
She moved.
The shadows thickened.
Darkened.
Pooling like liquid night.
Then they surged.
Straight toward him.
Climbing.
Wrapping around his legs.
His arms.
His throat.
Lyra's breath slowed.
Focused.
"So it's not just in my head."
"No," Kael said tightly.
"It isn't."
His breathing broke—just slightly.
Not fear.
Strain.
Like something inside him was pushing out.
"You're losing control."
"I know."
"Should I run?"
"That would be wise."
Lyra didn't move.
Instead—
She stepped closer.
"You said not yet."
His head snapped toward her.
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything."
The shadows rose higher.
Curling around him.
Thickening.
Hungry.
His eyes darkened, they were drowning.
Lyra's instincts screamed at her to move.
She stayed.
"What is it?" she asked.
His voice strained.
"A curse."
Lyra nodded once.
"Well… that explains the mood."
"Lyra—leave."
"Door's locked."
A shadow lashed out.
Fast and violently.
She jumped back as it struck the marble—
It cracked.
Stone split like glass.
Lyra stared at it.
Then back at him.
"…Right. Not friendly."
Another lash—
Closer.
Faster.
Testing her now.
Lyra grabbed a spear from the rack.
Balanced.
Solid.
"If it tries to kill me," she said calmly, "I'm stabbing it."
"That won't help."
"Clearly I'm running out of options so it's worth trying."
For a split second—
Kael laughed.
Then the shadows surged harder.
Wilder.
For one terrifying moment they didn't just wrap around him.
They pulled.
Like they were trying to drag him somewhere else.
Kael staggered.
Lyra's grip tightened on the spear.
"Fight it."
His jaw clenched.
"I am."
"Do it better."
That almost earned her a glare when everything stopped abruptly.
Like a violent stillness.
The shadows froze then snapped back.
Retreating.
Crawling off him.
Sinking into nothing.
Silence slammed into the room.
Lyra lowered the spear slowly.
"…Well."
Kael steadied himself.
Barely able to control his breathing again..
"That was… unfortunate."
"You cracked your own floor."
"It's replaceable."
Lyra stared at him.
"You say that like this happens every morning."
A pause.
"Not every morning."
She ran a hand through her hair.
"You're cursed by something that can tear through stone and you're casual about it?"
"I've had time to adjust."
For the first time, he looked tired.
Not weak. Just worn.
Like something was eating away at him piece by piece.
"How long?" she asked.
Silence.
"Of course."
Lyra sighed.
"Fine. Keep your secrets."
She turned toward the doors.
Then knocked.
Hard.
"Whoever locked us in—open up."
A pause.
Then the bar lifted.
The doors creaked open.
Two guards stood outside.
Rigid.
Silent.
And behind them stood Duke Harland.
His eyes bulged sharply as if trying to catch every event that transpired.
Watching everything keenly
He smiled.
Slow.
Satisfied.
"Well," he said smoothly, "I hope we didn't interrupt."
Lyra glanced at the cracked marble.
The splintered stone.
The disturbed weapons.
Then back at him.
And smiled.
Perfectly.
"Not at all."
Their gazes locked.
And in that moment—
She understood.
This wasn't an accident.
This wasn't curiosity.
This was a test.
A trap.
And they had just watched to see—
What the king would become.
And whether she would survive it.
As Harland turned to leave, his voice drifted back—
"Do be careful, Your Majesty."
A pause.
Then he lowered his voice as he continued…
"Some things… are difficult to keep contained."
The doors shut behind him.
Lyra didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because now she knew.
The court wasn't just watching her.
They were watching him.
Waiting.
For the moment the monster slipped.
And next time, it wouldn't be behind locked doors.