By evening, the palace was no longer quiet.
It was watching.
Lyra felt it the moment she stepped into the corridor.
Whispers cut off mid-sentence.
Servants bowed too quickly.
Guards straightened like she was something unpredictable or dangerous.
Good.
Let them be unsure.
The assassin who would be queen.
The rumor had spread.
And it had teeth.
"I can't breathe."
The maid tightened the laces anyway.
"You look magnificent, my lady."
Lyra stared at her reflection.
Crimson silk clung to her like a second skin, threaded with silver that caught the light with every movement. It all spelt beauty.
But not for her world…it passed as restriction. Certainly weponless.
"I look like a target."
The maid hesitated.
"That too."
Lyra exhaled slowly.
"Remind me why I'm attending this again."
"The royal banquet."
"Yes. I heard that part."
A pause.
"…Because everyone who matters will be watching."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"Exactly why I shouldn't be there."
A knock cut through the room.
The maid bowed immediately.
"His Majesty."
Of course.
Kael stepped inside.
Black formal attire.
Silver crown.
His poise was that of composure and control.
For a moment he just looked at her.
Lyra noticed.
"You're staring."
"I'm assessing."
"Same difference."
He stepped closer.
His gaze lingered—just slightly too long.
"You look…"
A pause.
"…dangerous."
Lyra tilted her head.
"You sound disappointed."
"On the contrary."
His voice lowered.
"I prefer knowing what might kill me."
Her lips curved.
"Then you'll love tonight."
A flicker passed through his eyes.
Gone just as quickly.
He offered his arm.
"The court is waiting."
Lyra looked at it.
Then at him.
Then—slowly—took it.
"Let them."
His arm was steady.
Warm.
Annoyingly reassuring.
She ignored that.
The banquet hall was a battlefield dressed as luxury.
Gold. Crystal. Light. It all made the hall lit up majestically.
And then there were predators dressed in silk too.
The doors opened.
Silence fell.
Every head turned.
Every eye sharpened.
Lyra felt it instantly. This wasn't curiosity.
This was evaluation.
Judgment.
Hunger.
Kael didn't slow.
He led her forward like he owned the room.
Like nothing here could touch him.
Lyra almost believed it.
Almost.
Duke Harland was already seated.
Waiting and watching with eagle eyes.
His silver wolf gleamed under candlelight.
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
Lyra held his gaze as she sat.
He smiled wider.
Good.
He remembered the morning.
The first strike came wrapped in silk.
"Your Majesty," a noblewoman said sweetly, "your engagement was… unexpected."
"I enjoy surprises," Kael replied smoothly.
Her gaze slid to Lyra sharply with a touch of poise.
"And you, Lady Lyra… where were you raised?"
Lyra sipped her wine.
"I wasn't."
A pause.
"…I see."
Lyra set the glass down.
"Forests. Mountains. Places where people don't ask questions they can't survive the answers to."
Silence rippled.
Another noble leaned in.
"And your house?"
"Don't have one."
"No lineage?"
"No expectations."
Murmurs spread.
Uncomfortable.
Uneasy.
For Harland it was perfect.
Then he spoke in a calm and measured tone.
Cutting through the noise.
"That sounds less like a queen…"
His eyes locked on hers.
"…and more like a liability."
Silence dropped like a blade.
All attention shifted to Kael.
The king lifted his glass.
Unbothered.
"A liability to whom?"
Harland didn't hesitate.
"To the crown."
Lyra leaned back.
"I tried to assassinate him yesterday."
Gasps.
She shrugged.
"He's still alive."
A few nobles choked.
Kael's mouth twitched.
Harland leaned forward slightly.
"And this amuses you?"
Lyra met his gaze.
"Does locking us in a training hall amuse you?"
The table froze.
Even the music seemed to falter.
Harland didn't blink.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"Strange."
Kael's voice cut in.
"That's enough."
But the damage was done.
Lines had been drawn.
The music resumed even louder now.
Servants moved quickly, refilling glasses, replacing plates.
But Lyra felt it—
Something had shifted.
This wasn't just a banquet anymore.
It was a setup.
Her gaze dropped to her wine.
The surface shimmered.
Too subtly for most to notice.
But not her.
Around the table several nobles were watching.
Not her.
The glass.
Waiting.
Lyra went very still.
Then she lifted it.
Paused.
Lowered it again.
Kael noticed.
"Is there a problem?"
Lyra slid the glass toward him.
"Drink it."
He arched a brow.
"You first."
She smiled faintly.
"Afraid?"
Without breaking eye contact—
He switched their glasses.
And drank.
Lyra watched closely.
One second.
Two.
Nothing.
She frowned, almost disappointed at her instincts.
Then—
A body hit the floor.
Hard.
A noble at the far end convulsed violently.
Foam at his mouth.
Eyes rolling back.
Screams erupted.
Chairs scraped.
Wine spilled.
Chaos.
Poison.
But not where it was supposed to be.
Lyra's gaze snapped back to the table.
Calculation hit instantly.
That glass wasn't meant for her.
It was meant..for him.
Kael stood slowly.
His demure was too calm.
Too controlled.
Lyra watched him carefully.
Because for a brief moment as the man screamed on the floor, the shadows beneath Kael's chair… moved.
Just slightly.
Like it was hungry and reacting to the confusion and disarray.
It was then she realized…it fed on chaos.
Her pulse spiked.
This wasn't just an assassination attempt.
It was bait.
"Seal the hall," Kael ordered.
Guards moved instantly.
Doors slammed shut.
No one leaves.
No one breathes.
The dying man clawed at the floor.
And went still afterward.
The silence that crashed the hall was heavy and suffocating.
Lyra scanned the room.
The level of fear and shock that gripped the entire palace was palpable.
Amidst all that was one calm face…
Duke Harland.
Watching.
Always watching.
Their eyes met.
And slowly he smiled.
Not a hint of surprise or concern crossed his expression.
He was rather…satisfied.
Lyra leaned closer to Kael.
Voice low.
"They weren't just trying to poison you."
He didn't look at her.
"I know."
Her gaze flicked to the floor.
To his shadow.
It was still now. Waiting.
"They wanted to see what would happen."
A pause.
Then, quieter, she continued.
"They wanted to see if you'd lose control."
Kael's fingers tightened around his glass.
Just slightly.
Across the table, Harland rose.
"Tragic," he said smoothly.
"But perhaps… not unexpected."
His gaze swept the room.
Then landed on Kael.
"A king surrounded by enemies."
"And secrets."
The word lingered in the air, heavy and dangerous.
Lyra felt it then. The realization that this was more of a test than it was a failed assassination…dawned on her.
The poison.
The locked room.
The watching eyes.
They were pushing him.
Cornering him.
Waiting for the moment the curse broke free.
Kael's voice cut through the silence.
Cold and final.
"No one leaves until I say so."
Harland inclined his head slightly.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
But his eyes—
His eyes said something else entirely.
We're just getting started.
Lyra didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because now she understood the truth.
The wolves weren't hunting her.
Not really.
They were hunting the king.
And they were using her to do it.
As the guards sealed the final doors
Lyra felt it again.
A subtle shift that felt wrong.
She looked down.
Her breath stilled.
Because this time, it wasn't Kael's shadow moving.
It was hers.