The moment Queen Eirwen stepped into the High Garden, silence followed behind her like a veil. Even the guards at the far end of the courtyard stilled as she cut through the frost-lined air in a gown of glacial blue.
Her expression, as always, was carved from calm—only her eyes betrayed the storm beneath.
Elowen lowered her practice sword mid-swing, catching her breath and wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow. She had faced lords who doubted her, soldiers who questioned her—but something in the queen’s stillness made her stomach twist.
“Is it true?” Eirwen asked, her voice cold as the marble underfoot. “Have you compromised your station for a soldier’s arms?”
Elowen blinked, stunned by the venom in her tone.
“What?” she breathed, her grip tightening on the hilt.
Without answering, the queen reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled a sealed parchment, her fingers trembling only slightly. She did not hand it to Elowen.
Instead, she let it fall into the nearby fountain, where the water slowly bled the ink into unreadable swirls.
“A letter,” the queen said. “From Lady Alisyn. Accusations of impropriety. Of seduction. Of a plan to flee this court with gold from the royal vault—and your personal guard.”
The words hit harder than any blade Elowen had ever trained against. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. She could barely breathe through the rising shock.
“She claims the two of you conspired to leave Halden in secret,” Eirwen continued, not blinking. “And that you intend to wed him.”
“That’s a lie,” Elowen said finally, her voice shaking with rage. “A desperate, filthy lie.”
“And yet it’s spreading,” the queen snapped. “Because scandal always does. Do you think I care what Alisyn claims? I care that I’m now forced to answer for it.”
Elowen stepped forward, her voice cracking. “You think I’d betray this crown for a man? You think I would risk everything—after what I’ve endured—just to slip away with a sword at my side?”
“I think the court already wonders,” the queen said coldly. “And that is enough.”
Within the hour, an inquiry was ordered.
Cillian stood before the panel first, shoulders straight beneath his formal black, the sun catching the scar at his cheek as if reminding them he’d earned his post through more than proximity.
“There is no intimacy,” he said when asked. His voice did not shake, but his jaw tightened with every question. “There is loyalty. And pain. But the pain is hers, not mine.”
“And yet you remained when reassigned,” one advisor noted.
“She asked,” Cillian replied. “And I obeyed. Because she leads. And because I follow orders.”
Elowen’s turn came soon after. She sat straight-backed in the center of the council chamber, the weight of their eyes heavy across her skin.
They didn’t shout. They didn’t accuse. They questioned her like she was already halfway guilty.
“Have you written to him privately?” one voice asked.
“No.”
“Have you been alone with him at night?”
“No.”
“Do you feel for him?”
Elowen hesitated. “Does it matter?”
A pause fell—dangerous, still.
“I have not broken my vows,” she said. “But yes, I feel something. And that is my burden—not his.”
The court found no evidence—no letters, no stolen gold, no plan for escape. And yet silence followed Elowen wherever she went, thick and sharp.
The same nobles who had bowed now watched with narrowed eyes. A single glance from Lady Maren was enough to chill her from across the hall.
Later, Queen Eirwen called her again. This time they stood beneath the bare trees of the frost garden, breath visible in the cold.
“You should have been more careful,” the queen said.
“I did nothing wrong.”
“But you allowed speculation to flourish. And that is sometimes worse.”
Elowen’s voice cracked. “Must I live like glass? Clear, hollow, and always on the edge of breaking?”
Eirwen stepped closer. “You must live like a queen. And a queen must be above rumor. If I must choose between protecting you or protecting the realm—you will not like what I choose.”