Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped into the courtyard. Every step felt heavier than the last, weighed down not only by the scroll clutched tightly in your hand but by the dread curling in your gut. You had heard the court’s whispers a thousand times over —the queen’s pawn, the broken knight, a man stripped of honor. And now, you had to deliver the king’s summons to that very man.

Gods, why me? The thought burned bitterly. Why must I be the one to face him?

Kaelen stood near the training grounds, his figure rigid and still against the fading light. The scar on his left cheek caught a dull gleam, but it was his eyes that unsettled you the most—grey, tired, and piercing, as if they could see every secret hidden beneath the surface. The rumors had painted a picture of a weak, broken man, but those eyes spoke of something else entirely—something colder, more dangerous.

A faint shadow moved just beyond the edge of your vision—a silhouette too still to be a mere passerby. You thought you caught a glimpse of someone watching silently, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Deryth, you realized, though his presence was almost a whisper in the evening breeze.

The name Elaran echoed in your mind—the king who summoned you here, whose will now tethered your fate to Kaelen’s.

Your breath caught in your throat. I hate that I’m afraid of him.

“Sir Kaelen,” you said at last, voice tight with forced respect, every syllable grudging. Kaelen’s gaze settled on you like a blade, sharp and unyielding. You flinched, feeling exposed under the scrutiny.

Unable to hold his stare, your eyes darted away as if one glance could kill you. You kept your posture steady but your gaze fixed on the ground. A small detail caught your eye—a cat winding its way around Kaelen’s boots, unbothered by the tense atmosphere.