Chapter 50

Kaine

The palace staff has always been aware that a female guard walks the halls. The guards, the maids, and attendants have watched her move through the ranks, whispering when she passes. Now everyone at court knows as well.

The story spread with startling speed. The female guard who stepped in before anyone else. The one who calmed a distressed noblewoman and stayed until the baby was born.

By the next morning, the story had reached most of the court nobles, and by nightfall, it was on the lips of nearly everyone in the kingdom.

Somehow word of me coming to Ember’s defense has also spread. The servants say I’ve changed. Some even say I’ve become a leader worth following, not just obeying.

I expected outrage. I braced for accusations, for nobles calling her a distraction or a danger. Instead, I’ve heard mostly praise.

Some call her brave. Others call her foolish, but even those who think she overstepped are reluctant to say so too loudly.

They also gossip about how I refused to use Alpha power, about how I shielded her from punishment. They say that I chose mercy. It isn’t quite true, but I’m glad they think so.

If this makes Ember harder to target, then let them believe what they want. I went against my father’s orders. I know this isn’t over, and I’m glad that public opinion is currently in Ember’s favor.

Since the ball, I’ve been careful. The Queen has said little and the King’s order come out harsher than usual. I’ve had this treatment before. They’re calculating their next move, but they’ll tread lightly as long as the palace walls are still buzzing with sympathy for Ember.

I’ve tried to stay focused on the investigation. The Chantarelle records are still a disaster. Half the ledgers are falsified. I’ve drafted a dozen reports, each one uncovering another gap.

There is plenty to focus on but no matter how hard I try to stop it, my mind keeps drifting back to her. I keep thinking about what she said that night. Her voice was quiet, tired.

She told me about her mother’s death. She spoke of the fear that she holds surrounding birth. She have to, but she opened up.

I found myself relating to her. I’ve lived most of my life under the Queen’s cold expectations and the King’s harsh discipline. After my mother died, I became more of an obligation than a son. If I wasn’t the heir, they probably would have sent me off somewhere.

Ember seemed to really see me when I spoke. I hadn’t expected that from her. I hadn’t expected to feel comfort in it for days afterward.

When she arrives for our meeting, she knocks once and steps inside. Her hair is pulled back tightly, and her uniform looks perfect. She moves like someone who’s prepared for a fight, even if she hopes to avoid one.

“Close the door,” I say, and she does.

I gesture to the seat across from mine. “There are new discrepancies in the Chantarelle files. We need to go over them before I take anything to Jake.”

She takes out her notes and places them between us. “I’ve already reviewed the last set of filings. These three were processed within two months of each other.”

I scan the dates and names. “Who signed off?”

“Lord Darrel’s assistant. Same one who handled these documents the previous winter,” she says gesturing to two more documents.

I look again. She’s right. The overlap isn’t an accident.

“They’re using family proxies and false heirs to move property under fake names,” she continues. “I think they’re trying to make assets disappear.”

She’s laid out the evidence with care. I listen without interrupting. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes as I move closer, but she keeps going.

She’s used to having to prove herself. Today, I let her speak.

When we finish, I agree to compile our findings and pass them along. She offers to review any updates once I’ve spoken with Jake. I nod.

She hesitates just a moment before stacking her papers and rising. She doesn’t mention the shift between us, but I can tell she feels it the same as me.

Ember

Something between us has changed. I don’t say anything about it, and neither does Prince Kaine, but it’s there. He doesn’t interrupt when I speak, he listens.

When I explain the inconsistencies in the Chantarelle records, he waits. When I pause to check a number, he lets me. He never used to wait.

Our conversation stays focused on the investigation. He doesn’t bring up the ball, or our conversation from that night, but I feel the change in him. His voice is quieter, less forceful. It’s careful, but not detached.

I try to keep my thoughts straight, but part of me is still thinking about how he looked at me during the ball. He hadn’t looked at me like a subordinate or even like a peer. He looked at me like someone who understood.

I never expected that from him.

The meeting ends with no formal conclusion. I gather my papers and nod. He gives me a look, one I can’t read before I leave his office and return to mine, forcing myself to focus.

I file the summary with our other reports and begin compiling a larger draft. I’m organizing the titles by date and cross-referencing them with nearby transfers, but the rhythm of the work doesn’t calm me the way it usually does.

My mind drifts again. I think of him refusing the King’s command. Refusing to use his Alpha power. He spoke to his father like it wasn’t the first time they’d clashed, and when he spoke to me the night of the ball he sounded like he knew what it felt like to be alone.

He didn’t pity me. He didn’t brush it off. He understood.

I shake my head, hoping the physical action will get him off my mind. I am a guard under his command, a friend maybe, nothing more.

“He defended you,” Nara says. Her voice is soft.

Because it was the right thing to do.

“Because he cares.”

He’s engaged to Bianca.

“Not for long.”

I close the ledger and stare at the wall. If he knew about the mark, everything would change. They’d tell me my place is beside the throne, not in the field. I’d become a symbol, a claim and I’d lose everything I built, and that’s only if he didn’t reject me.

Nara is quiet again, but I can feel her hovering, not quite leaving me alone with my thoughts. I don’t know if she’s hoping I’ll give in, but there’s nothing I can do, but continue to suppress the bond.

I return to the ledger and add one more note in the margin. Then I move to the next page. For now, I can still pretend everything is the same, even if part of me knows it isn’t.