Theodore received the unexpected letter early the next morning. The seal of the South was cleanly pressed, the handwriting formal yet undeniably familiar.
He unfolded it carefully.
To the Duke of the North,
We caught a spy yesterday—he was searching for the Silver Sword.The man claims he does not know who his master is.
If you discover anything… write to me.
— Duchess of the SouthSelene Kaelen
Theodore raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"'To the Duke'…" he murmured with quiet amusement. "Still so formal, Selene."
He folded the letter neatly and set it down beside his teacup. His fingers drummed on the wooden desk, mind already racing.
"A spy. The Silver Sword. The missing diary. The brooch."
And above it all—the unsolved disappearance of the Saintess' sister.
Pieces were moving again.
Outside his study window, the northern winds howled gently, brushing snowflakes against the glass. Theodore stared out across the icy plains of the North; his gaze thoughtful, sharp.
Meanwhile in Ashkalon
It had taken nearly a week to reach Ashkalon. Even with teleportation magic used at certain points, the journey was long and exhausting.
Ashkalon was a land kissed by relentless sun. The heat wrapped around them like a second skin, heavy and dry. Much of the kingdom bordered on desert, and the city was built from sand-coloured stone and mud—utilizing what the land offered. Structures rose from the golden earth like relics of a time long past, sturdy and warm beneath the blazing sky.
As they entered the capital gates, King Rahim stood at the palace entrance with a formal smile.
"Welcome, Aria Kaelen," he said smoothly, arms opening as if to embrace the desert itself.
They had kept Liam and Sylphira's identities hidden under the guise of elite knights. Even now, cloaked in white and red-rank armour, they stood among the guards—undetected. And for now, they intended to keep it that way.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Aria replied politely, masking the caution in her gaze.
"Please, rest for now," Rahim offered. "Tonight, we'll host a welcome banquet in your honour. The maids will assist you with anything you need. As for your guards, they will be housed on the eastern side of the palace."
Aria's expression didn't shift, but her tone sharpened slightly. "The eastern side? So, they won't be stationed near me?"
Rahim chuckled—light but forced. "Oh no, Lady Aria. We follow strict customs here. We do not permit knights, especially male ones, to stay near our female guests."
Aria's smile returned—this time sharper. "Then I'll have my female knight remain with me."
At that, Sylphira stepped forward, head slightly bowed.
King Rahim's expression twitched—displeasure well-hidden beneath courtly manners. "Ah... of course. That's acceptable."
As they moved away, Liam leaned closer to Aria and whispered low, just above the breeze:
"Stay close to Sylphira. If anything feels off, use our code."
Aria nodded silently, her fingers brushing the inside hem of her sleeve, where a tiny charm hid—her backup lifeline.
The palace maids were veiled from head to toe, their faces obscured so thoroughly that only their eyes were visible. It made it nearly impossible to tell who was who—an unsettling layer of secrecy Aria didn't appreciate.
Her chambers, however, were prepared with the utmost luxury. Silken sheets, carved furniture, golden basins—every inch of the room whispered wealth and tradition.
"We have prepared your bath, my lady," one of the veiled maids said gently.
Aria glanced at Sylphira, who gave a discreet nod.
"I've brought my own knight," Aria said firmly. "You may leave."
The maid hesitated. "But my lady—"
"I don't like being assisted by strangers. Only my personal maid or knight will attend to me," Aria said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
With reluctant bows, the maids left, their displeasure thinly veiled behind politeness.
As the heavy door closed, Sylphira removed her helmet and let out a sigh of deep relief. She began unfastening the clasps of her armour with practiced ease. Though a seasoned warrior, the weight of the metal still took its toll after days of travel.
Her sun-kissed skin shimmered faintly with sweat, and her long black hair—braided for combat—was loosed from its restraints, falling in waves down her back. Despite her exhaustion, her brown eyes were still lively, still fierce.
"You should take the first bath, Princess," Aria offered politely. "I can wait."
Sylphira smirked. "Let's take it together."
Aria blinked. "Pardon?"
Chuckling at Aria's startled expression, Sylphira explained, "Ashkalon offers a private spring pond for honoured guests. It's part of the tradition. Unless you mind sharing?"
Aria, still a bit unsure, nodded. "I don't mind."
The spring pond was just as Sylphira promised—a secluded chamber with warm, gently steaming water. Slipping into it, the heat soaked into their tired muscles, easing the aches of travel. A rare moment of peace settled between them.
"Do you miss Ashkalon?" Aria asked softly, watching Sylphira splash lazily, making bubbles rise to the surface.
"No," Sylphira replied almost instantly, voice light but firm.
Aria tilted her head. "Really?"
"Not everyone had a good childhood, Aria," Sylphira said, resting her head back against the stone edge of the spring. "I don't miss it. I'm happy where I am now—with Liam. More than happy."
A small, knowing smile played on Aria's lips. "Are you sure you like my uncle?"
Sylphira snorted, water rippling around her. "He's an idiot sometimes, but… he does care. And that's enough for me."
They sat a little longer in the spring, soaking in silence—comfortable and calm.
Later, they rose to prepare for the banquet. Aria's dress had already been brought—an elegant piece in a deep shade of sapphire, embroidered with silver threads. Sylphira resumed her role, donning her armour once more and sealing her identity behind her helmet.
The grand banquet hall of Ashkalon was filled with nobles—men and women adorned in desert finery, their robes flowing like the dunes outside. Yet the atmosphere was different from the capital: less rigid, more fluid, but no less watchful.
When Aria entered, a hush swept through the room. All eyes turned to her.
Her silver hair alone set her apart—a glowing thread of moonlight in a hall of gold and sand. She moved with quiet grace, dressed in her way, her polite smile masking the undercurrent of caution she carried in unfamiliar territory.
She mingled easily enough, answering questions with soft diplomacy, acknowledging compliments with nods and warm civility.
"I hope you're enjoying your stay, my lady." A smooth, gentle voice interrupted the flow of conversation.
Aria turned to see a man nearly as tall as Khalid, with similar sharp features—the same proud bearing. But unlike Khalid's, this man had jet-black hair and darker, more shadowed eyes.
Before Aria could ask, Sylphira leaned in and whispered, "That's Crown Prince Kabeer. Khalid's older brother."
"Thank you for this generous welcome, Crown Prince," Aria said, dipping her head politely.
"If there is anything you need, or if your stay is less than comfortable… do not hesitate to let me know." He gave a courteous smile, then just as quickly, melted into the crowd.
Aria blinked—his presence had been brief, but keenly observed.
At the head table, King Rahim watched Aria closely, studying the way she carried herself with a composure beyond her years.
"She reminds me of Selene," he murmured to his wife.
Queen Mumtaz, veiled like all noblewomen of Ashkalon, replied, "But don't you think… she resembles Alexandra more?"
Rahim didn't answer immediately.
"And if Khalid wishes to marry her," Mumtaz added, her voice calm but sharp, "what will become of Zara?"
That question lingered.
Khalid's sudden request for engagement had caught them off guard. The political implications were one thing—but no one had considered Aria's opinion. Not yet.
The banquet continued, and eventually wound down with final courtesies. Aria returned to her chambers, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Sylphira, as always, kept to the room beside hers—close, watchful.
The desert night was deathly still, its silence pressing against the palace walls like a shroud. Inside the royal guest chamber, the moonlight cast long shadows across the room, painting everything in hues of silver and shadow.
Aria lay asleep, her breathing calm, unaware.
A figure emerged from the darkness, his steps soundless—too precise to belong to a mere man.
Khalid.
His cloak shifted like liquid shadow as he approached her bedside. The usual charm that adorned his face was gone, replaced with something darker. His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.
"Finally," he murmured, gazing down at her. "You're here. It took me so long to bring you here."
His fingers moved toward her face, hovering just above her lips. A twisted smile curled his lips.
"Now, all I need is the silver sword... and then—"
But before he could touch her, a force flared to life.
A pulse of darkness burst from the bracelet around her wrist—black aura swirling like living smoke, wrapping around her arm like a guardian spirit.
Khalid was flung backward, crashing silently against the far wall. He hissed, glaring at the source of the disruption.
The bracelet glowed faintly, its aura coiling in warning. A power not his. A presence not welcoming him.
"Bastard," Khalid muttered under his breath, his voice laced with rage and frustration. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Aria again, untouched, still peacefully asleep.
He clenched his jaw.
"I'll make you mine before he takes you back." The words were venomous. A vow.
With a final glance, Khalid vanished into thin air—leaving behind only the fading trace of his dark intent and the subtle hum of ancient magic still guarding her.