Chapter 38

Ember

The key to my office sticks when I turn it. I have to wiggle it slightly before it gives way. The door swings open with a faint creak, revealing the small, windowed room tucked between the guard offices and the northern stairwell.

The desk inside is scratched and uneven. There’s a short filing cabinet in the corner and a tall, empty shelf that leans slightly to the right. It’s not much, but it’s mine.

The nameplate was already added to the roster this morning. Ember McMann, Royal Guard. I am not only no longer a trainee, I have been given a position of power. My name sits just above the junior ranks, still near the bottom of the list, but I’m filled with pride at my new position.

The patrol files are where I left them yesterday, sorted in neat stacks by sector. I cross the room and set down my bag before taking the first report off the top.

The incident was minor, an argument between two business owners, but it was logged late and needs follow up. I make a note and continue reading.

The early morning noise in the halls has thinned out. Most of the guard is either on patrol or in training. I prefer the silence. It’s easier to focus when I can hear myself think.

I review three more logs before I look up again. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, casting a narrow beam of light across the stone floor. I stretch out my hand and let the light hit my fingers.

Nara stirs faintly, a soft hum beneath my skin. “They’re watching, she murmurs.”

I know.

Since the promotion, there’s been a change. Some guards nod when they pass me in the corridor. A few have started greeting me with cautious tones. Others say nothing at all but hold my gaze a little too long.

It’s not hostility. Not yet. But it’s a shift.

The Captain’s warning still rings in my ears. The moment I accepted the promotion, I became an object of further scrutiny.

One mistake, and it wouldn’t just reflect on me. It would affect the entire guard. Any success I have will be questioned, and any failure will be used against me.

I won’t give anyone the excuse they’re waiting for.

I move to the next stack of papers. Today’s route schedule still has the same gap I had flagged before. I draft a short correction memo and place it in the outgoing tray.

This is what I wanted. I tell myself that again as I finish updating the last rotation log and begin checking the incident map.

Two patrols logged overlapping watch times near the merchant district. I note it, adjust the route, and flag the post commander for review.

I am allowed to delegate some of this now and the temptation is strong, but I don’t. I do the work myself. If someone wants to question how I got here, they won’t find any shortcuts.

When the sun rises high enough, I stretch and move to deliver an updated report to Lieutenant Myles. The corridor outside is already buzzing.

Two guards pause mid-conversation when I pass. One offers a nod that feels more like an assessment than a greeting. I ignore it.

I’m just turning back toward my office when I hear the voice I was hoping to avoid.

“Well, if it isn’t the palace’s newest rising star.”

Jasper.

He falls into step beside me like we planned to meet. His tone is light, but the grin he wears doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Congratulations,” he says. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. You always seemed meant for more than trailing after Kaine.”

I say nothing, just keep walking.

“That’s not an insult,” he adds quickly. “It’s impressive, really. You’ve carved out quite the place for yourself.”

“I earned this role,” I say evenly.

“Of course you did.” He smiles wider. “Still, funny how quickly things change. People notice different things. Kaine especially, he doesn’t always know what he has until it’s slipping away.”

I stop walking. Nara is on guard instantly, her power surging beneath my skin. Jasper watches me, clearly waiting for a response.

“I have work to do,” I say, and turn sharply down the hall. I don’t look back. Back in my office, I shut the door with more force than I mean to.

I repeat Jasper’s words to myself “He doesn’t know what he has until it’s slipping away.”

It shouldn’t bother me. Jasper likes games. He likes getting under skin.

Still, I know what he saw. Kaine, silent in meetings unless I speak. Kaine, watching me across the yard, across the court, across the room.

I press my palm to the edge of the desk until the sting grounds me. Nara doesn’t speak, but she lingers. Not angry, just wary.

“He’s baiting me,” I whisper.

She agrees.

I force myself back into the reports. There’s no shortage of distractions.

The border transfer logs are a mess. Some pages are pristine, too new for what they claim to record. Others are faded but hold dates that don’t line up with any official transfers. I cross-reference names, match the old seals to current land claims.

After an hour, a pattern begins to form, certain pieces of land reappear under different owners, all of them distantly connected to Lady Chantarelle.

I compile a list. The inconsistencies aren’t enough to prove forgery, not yet, but they’re close. One more break in the pattern and the entire map might unravel.

When I look up again, the light has shifted. The sun is high now, glinting off the edge of my letter opener. There’s a knock at the door.

I stand, already knowing what it means.

“Prince Kaine requests your presence,” the runner says. “Updated threat briefing.”

I nod, gather my notes, and follow.

The walk to Prince Kaine’s office is short but heavy. I can feel the tension in my shoulders, a reflection of the way Nara stirs underneath, alert but not angry. Just waiting.

I knock once.

“Enter.”

He’s behind his desk, reading already. The same sharp edge he always wears is present, but there’s something colder in it today. I place the report on his desk without comment.

“This is the most recent assessment?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Perimeter coverage remains stable. The southern rotation is now fully staffed.”

He flips a page. “You adjusted the night watch?”

“We reduced redundancies and reassigned underperforming posts.”

He makes a small sound. Not quite approval, not quite dismissal.

Then the silence stretches.

Finally, without looking up, he asks, “Are you finding your new duties fulfilling?”

I pause.

“They match my training,” I say. “I’m doing what I was meant to do.”

He doesn’t speak right away. He just turns the page, eyes scanning it with deliberate slowness.

“Not everyone handles visibility well,” he says. “Some in the palace are more drawn to the attention than the work.”

I stiffen. There’s no doubt who he means, and it stings more than it should.

“I’m not here for attention,” I say.

Still, he doesn’t look at me. “You’re dismissed.”

I don’t reply. I don’t even nod. I just walk out.

I reach my office with my jaw tight and my pulse sharp in my ears. He didn’t name Jasper. He didn’t need to.

I shut the door behind me and press my back to it, staring at the shelves of files I organized earlier. This office, this space, it was supposed to be proof, a symbol that I belonged.

It doesn’t feel like enough right now.

I cross to the desk, drop the files beside the border notes, and sit hard in the chair. Nara says nothing, but I feel her with me. She’s protective. She wants to understand Prince Kaine’s behavior.

So do I, but I won’t let that distract me.

I open the list of land transfers again and skim through the signatures. Three names match across two estates, but the seals are different. It’s a small discrepancy, easily dismissed. I flag it anyway.

Even small pieces can open larger cracks. The room is quiet.

My name is on the door. My reports reach the prince. My work is being seen. That should be enough.

But it isn’t.

I rest my hand on the desk, steadying myself. I don’t need Prince Kaine’s approval. I don’t need Jasper’s attention.

I have a purpose. That has to be enough.

I take a breath, flip the page, and get back to work.