The councilmen smiled while I spoke. That was the first warning. I laid out the danger in clear terms: Dorian’s reversal motion wasn’t about reconciliation—it was about power. They smiled. They thanked me for my insight. And then they moved on, as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
I left the council chamber with my head high and my hands clenched. They wanted peace more than truth. They wanted to believe his statement was love, not strategy. I wasn’t surprised. But I was done trying to explain it to people who already chose their comfort.
Jasper was waiting in the hallway. “They listen?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then we’re doubling your security. Now.”
He didn’t wait for me to agree. He spoke into his comm quietly, efficiently. By nightfall, two unfamiliar guards stood outside my quarters. Jasper came with them: he stayed stationed at my door—solid, unmoving, silent.
He used to ask questions. Now he observed. He tracked everything: my schedule, my silence, the way I avoided looking tired. He didn’t need answers to see the weight I was carrying.
I saw him once, late, when I went to refill my water. He was still at his post. He didn’t startle when I stepped into the hall, just looked up, eyes steady, unreadable.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked, more out of habit than anything else.
“Not when you’re awake,” he said simply.
I paused, unsure what to say to that.
“Get some rest, Elyse.” His voice was low, even. “I’ve got it.”
His eyes met mine again. And in that look, I understood: he wasn’t just guarding the halls.
He was guarding me.
When I returned to my room, I immediately noticed a change. There was a letter on my desk. No envelope. No name. Just a red wax seal. I didn’t need to flip it to know who sent it. The crest was unmistakable.
Lady Isolde.
I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the folded letter on my desk like it might speak again. I didn’t want to open it twice, but part of me needed to. I stood slowly, walked back, and ran my thumb over the wax. Still warm. Recent.
Another knock at the door. Firmer this time.
“Elyse,” Jasper said. “Something wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I opened the door just enough to see him. His eyes swept the room.
“You found something.”
I nodded. “Letter.”
He stepped in without asking, gaze moving instantly to the desk. “Who?”
“Isolde.” He moved closer to the desk, but didn’t touch the letter.
“What does it say?”
“Five words,” I replied. “You’re still in our way.”
He inhaled, sharp but silent. “She sent it herself?”
“No. But her seal is enough.”
Jasper’s face hardened. “You want me to alert security?”
“No. That’s what she wants.” He studied me for a beat.
“Then why tell me?”
“Because you asked if something was wrong,” I said. “And it is.”
He gave a single nod, then stepped back. “I’ll stay here tonight. You sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“That’s not the point.”
For a long moment, I just looked at him. The way he stood there, controlled, unreadable, but tense around the jaw. He hadn’t moved far from the desk. He hadn’t relaxed once. Whatever he wasn’t saying was louder than the words between us.
“You think she’ll come closer?” I asked.
“She already has,” he said. “You’re holding proof.”
I didn’t flinch. After he left, I walked back to the desk and sat down. This wasn’t over.
You’re still in our way.