Chapter 41

Kaine

I sit at my desk, but I haven’t turned a page in ten minutes.

Ember’s report is still open in front of me, marked in her neat handwriting. She’s underlined key entries, added margin notes where gaps in the records suggest something was altered or scrubbed.

It’s sharp. Precise. Her work always is.

I read the same paragraph again and still can’t focus.

What sticks isn’t the report. It’s her voice. The way she stood in front of me yesterday and reminded me, without flinching, that she’s a palace guard. That she’s here to do her job.

She was right.

Jasper’s interest in her isn’t something she asked for. She’s done nothing but keep her distance, but I let the sight of them together twist something in me. I used propriety as an excuse to lash out.

I lean back in my chair and press my thumb to the corner of the page.

It should have ended there with a brief exchange, a lapse in judgment and then we both move on. I haven’t.

I keep returning to it, to her voice, to the way she didn’t flinch, and the finality in her tone when she reminded me who she is.

She didn’t wait for dismissal. She turned and left. She was right to do it.

I told myself it was about the investigation. That any distraction, any suggestion of impropriety, could compromise her role. I didn’t say the real reason.

Rafe doesn’t understand boundaries. Every time I see Jasper near her, he rises to the surface, unsettled and frustrated.

Not because she’s done anything wrong, but because she’s close enough to someone else. Close enough that Rafe reacts like something’s being taken from us.

Even now, with this report in front of me, I’m not thinking clearly. She should be a colleague. A subordinate. Instead, I find myself staring at her notes like they hold all of the answers to the universe.

I belong to Bianca, the mark on her shoulder proves that. The court accepts it, and the kingdom will follow it. Still, every time Ember enters a room, the air shifts.

She’s doing everything I’ve asked of her. And I don’t know how to stay distant.

I shift in my seat and look toward the window. The sun is climbing, the courtyard below already busy. From up here, the movement seems orderly, composed, a sharp contrast to my thoughts.

Everything feels unsteady, and I know the moment I see her again, it’ll only get worse.

Ember

I begin the day early, long before the halls fill. The silence helps. It gives me space to settle into the work, to focus on the things that still make sense.

There’s a mistake in one of the patrol notes from last week. A shift swap wasn’t logged properly. I make a note and send it back with corrections. The task takes longer than it should because I check the entire rotation for further errors.

I try not to think about Prince Kaine, nut the memory slips in without my consent. The way he looked at me. The coldness in his voice.

I know what he thinks he saw, me letting Jasper too close, being too casual with someone who could interfere with the investigation, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve kept to my work, kept my distance. Still, he finds fault.

Nara stirs low, her irritation barely contained.

“If you claimed his as yours, Jasper wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

I don’t answer. She had been quiet about her desire for me to stop hiding my mark since the promotion, but I see that her silence on the matter had been temporary.

When Jake knocks at the door just before midmorning, I’m relieved to have something concrete to focus on. We leave my office without talking, moving through a quiet hall near the eastern gallery.

He passes me a folded note. “One of the forged land transfers,” he says.

I unfold the page, reading the name twice.

“That overlaps with Chantarelle’s early placement, but we need more.”

“We’ll find it.”

We agree to split the next phase of work. I’ll search old guard logs. He’ll trace departmental overlaps, looking for names that reappear near altered records. It’s tedious, but that’s where the truth usually hides.

Back in the courtyard, the junior guards are mid-drill. Their timing is off, but the discipline is improving. I pause at the edge of the deck before one of the lieutenants waves me in.

I spend the next hour offering quiet corrections and demonstrating technique. The rhythm of it keeps my thoughts from drifting too far until I feel someone watching.

When I glance up, I spot Robert beneath the awning across the yard. He isn’t trying to hide his attention. He stands still, arms crossed, gaze fixed on me.

His expression is unreadable.

After drills end, I return to my office. I don’t expect anything to be out of place, but the folded note on the floor stops me in the doorway.

It’s square. Neat. No markings.

I close the door behind me and pick it up carefully.

She’s watching you. Be careful.

The handwriting is unfamiliar. I scan the shape of the letters, the way the ink curves and presses deeper into the page than the last note.

It’s not the same person.

I retrieve the earlier note from my drawer and compare them side by side. This second one is more controlled. Sharper. Whoever wrote it took their time.

Nara speaks first.

“Someone else knows. Either they’re trying to protect you, or scare you.”

I fold both notes and lock them away again.

It could be a warning. It could be a trap. Either way, it means someone’s watching more closely than I realized. Someone else is involved now.

I return to my desk, but the numbers blur. I blink twice and try to refocus, but it’s no use. Too many thoughts play within my head.

Bianca is always calculating. Prince Jasper circles like he’s waiting for an invitation that hasn’t been given. Robert observes in silence, passing judgment without saying a word.

And Prince Kaine…

I told myself I didn’t care what he thought. That his opinion didn’t matter anymore.

But the truth is harder to ignore.

He trusted me enough to bring me into the investigation. Trusted me with records and clearance that few others have, and yet the moment his emotions got involved, he turned cold.

He Made assumptions. He spoke like I’d crossed a line. He was the one who crossed it.

Still, I feel the weight of it now. The edge in his voice. The way it made me want to push back harder, even as I walked away.

Nara doesn’t speak again, but her presence tightens. She feels it too. The pressure. The scrutiny.

I look at the reports I still need to file and remind myself why I’m here.

I earned this role. I’ve done the work. I’ve kept my head down, even when the palace seemed determined to unravel me.

I won’t let this crack me, even if it feels like I’m holding everything together alone.