VIVIAN’s POV
Days blur into a quiet rhythm. Or perhaps it’s just the illusion of peace—the kind that settles before something cracks.
Lord Dani seems to have adapted quickly to Verloren’s palace life. Too quickly, if you ask me.
Every morning, I pass by the training grounds on my way to the Queen’s hall. He’s always there, sword in hand, sparring with other knights. He moves like someone born to fight—strong, precise, but never reckless. The men already like him. I hear them laugh when he’s around, boasting that the northern knight fights like ten men in one. Even the captains nod in approval.
It would be admirable—if I didn’t know how easily admiration blinds.
Sometimes, I catch glimpses of him elsewhere: the library, buried in towers of books; the gardens, talking easily with the gardeners; once, near the west wing, where he claimed to be “just learning the layout.”
When I asked what exactly he was looking for, he only smiled.
“I’m getting used to the place,” he’d said.
And I had smiled back, though every instinct screamed at me not to believe him.
***
By the time the Queen announces the grand dinner, I’ve convinced myself to stay silent and watch. Arinelle never throws events without reason. If she’s calling all high ranks under one roof, it means she wants to test someone—or trap them.
The preparations take the whole day. Servants rush through the corridors carrying silverware, linens, bottles of imported wine. The scent of roasted meat and spiced fruit fills the air. I oversee it all, ensuring not a glass stands uneven.
“Vivian,” the Queen calls from her vanity mirror as I arrange the last of the crystal goblets. “You’ll sit with the officers tonight.”
I blink. “With them, Your Majesty?”
She meets my gaze through the reflection. “You’ve earned a place at my table, haven’t you? I’d like you to listen.”
“To what, exactly?”
She smirks. “To everything. Men talk freely when they think a woman’s only listening.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her tone is light, but her meaning is not.
***
By evening, the third-floor boardroom is transformed into a golden cage. Velvet drapes shimmer against candlelight, silver plates gleam beneath the glow. The room hums with the clinking of goblets and murmurs of politics dressed as pleasantries.
I take my place at the long table near the end. To my left sits Lady Roselle, to my right—an empty chair that, moments later, Lord Dani occupies.
Of course.
He looks disarmingly relaxed, his armor replaced by formal wear: a dark tunic, silver embroidery tracing its edges, the northern insignia stitched onto his collar. His hair’s tied back neatly, his smile easy as he greets everyone around him.
“Lady Vivian,” he says, turning to me with a nod. “You look… less terrifying than usual.”
I arch an eyebrow. “And you look far too comfortable for a man surrounded by strangers.”
He laughs under his breath. “Is that a compliment?”
“It’s an observation.”
He grins. “Then I’ll take it as both.”
The Queen sits at the head of the table, radiant in crimson silk. Her laughter rings across the hall, drawing everyone’s eyes. Yet even while smiling, she never truly relaxes. She watches. Always.
The meal begins: roasted pheasant, fresh bread, wine as dark as blood. Conversation flows like honeyed poison—safe on the surface, sharp underneath.
Captain Solomon sits two seats away, speaking quietly with another officer, his sharp eyes occasionally flicking toward Dani.
I notice. So does Dani.
At one point, as plates are cleared and servants bring dessert, he leans closer to me. “Does your Captain dislike northerners, or just me?”
“Why assume dislike?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine.
“Because he hasn’t looked away from me since the soup course.”
I glance at Solomon discreetly. “He’s cautious of everyone. It’s his job.”
“And you?” Dani asks. “Are you cautious of everyone too?”
“Only the ones who smile too much.”
He chuckles. “That’s cruel.”
“It’s true.”
“I’ll have to work harder to earn your trust, then.”
“You’d have to stop being suspicious first.”
For a second, our eyes meet—steady, searching. The air between us tightens, a silent push and pull I don’t understand.
Then someone calls his name from across the table, and the moment breaks.
***
Hours later, the dinner winds down. Laughter fades into tired chatter, and the Queen finally rises. “My friends,” she says, voice sweet and sharp, “Verloren thrives because of loyalty such as yours. May it continue as long as I reign.”
Her words are met with toasts and cheers, though the meaning beneath them chills me. As long as I reign.
The guests begin to leave. I gather my cloak, offering polite farewells. Dani catches my gaze once more before I go, giving me a small nod—a gesture too warm for formality, too restrained for familiarity.
I leave quickly.
The corridor outside is quiet, dimly lit by torches. I head toward the servants’ staircase, my thoughts still tangled in the night’s strange energy. I’m halfway down the hall when a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me into a side room.
I react on instinct—my elbow collides with a chest, and my fist follows.
“Ow—damn it, Vivian!”
The voice snaps me out of it.
“Captain Solomon?” I hiss. “You scared the life out of me!”
He’s half-bent, clutching his shoulder, grimacing. “Remind me never to surprise you again.”
“I told you never to approach me like that.”
“I didn’t plan to. But you were about to walk straight into a guard patrol.”
I narrow my eyes. “You dragged me in here to save me from that?”
He exhales, straightening. “No. I dragged you in here to warn you.”
That catches my attention. “About what?”
“Not what. Who.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Lord Dani.”
I blink. “You too?”
“I’ve been watching him all night,” Solomon mutters. “There’s something off about him. He acts like a man taking notes, not like one enjoying dinner.”
I cross my arms. “You think he’s a spy?”
“I think he’s something,” he says. “He’s too polished to be just a northern soldier. His manners, his speech—it’s like he’s trying to fit in.”
“Couldn’t that mean he’s simply well-trained?”
“It could. Or it could mean he’s here under someone else’s orders.”
“Queen Arinelle’s?”
He hesitates. “Maybe. Or maybe someone worse.”
I frown. “The King?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Captain.” My voice hardens. “If you know something, you’ll tell me.”
His jaw flexes. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Then why warn me?”
“Because you’re the Queen’s shadow,” he says. “And shadows tend to fall where danger walks.”
I stare at him. “That’s poetic. Did you practice that?”
He gives a dry laugh. “No. But I’ve seen too many people burned by curiosity. Don’t get too close to him, Vivian. Whatever he is, he’s not safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing his shoulder. “You just proved it.”
For a second, the silence between us softens. Then he straightens, pulling the door open.
“Be careful,” he says quietly. “That’s all I’m asking.”
I nod slowly. “And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you’ll have wasted a little caution. Better that than your life.”
He leaves without another word, the door closing softly behind him.
I stand in the half-dark, pulse still unsteady. The scent of candle smoke lingers in the air.
Lord Dani. The man everyone seems to notice but no one truly understands.
He's radiant. Not like a sunshine, but like a sunlight ready to burn anything too close. And still, I can't resist stepping closer.
The one I can’t stop watching either. For whatever reason.
I exhale slowly and walk back toward my quarters.
Tomorrow, I tell myself, I’ll be more careful. I’ll stay quiet, distant.
Tomorrow, I’ll stop looking for what isn’t mine to find.
And yet, deep down, I know I won’t.