Shadows and Suspicions

Chapter Seven – Shadows and Suspicions

The palace corridors were awfully quiet, the only sound being the faint flicker of torches along the stone walls. Elyra's steps were measured, her silk gown whispering against the marble floors. Though she held her head high, the memory of the court's judgment lingered in her mind. Every interaction from now on would be a test, every conversation a potential battlefield.

Draven walked ahead, his presence an imposing force in the dimly lit halls. Despite the tension of the evening, his posture remained relaxed, as though he thrived in the very atmosphere that threatened to consume her.

"I trust you understand the nature of your new position now," Draven said without turning to face her.

Elyra studied his broad shoulders, the way his dark attire blended seamlessly with the surrounding shadows. "It is quite clear," she replied. "I will be under constant scrutiny, my every move dissected."

A low chuckle escaped him. "Indeed. And you will find that many here are far less welcoming than they appeared tonight."

Elyra did not doubt that. The noblewoman in emerald silk, the calculating eyes of Lord Svaric none of them would simply accept her presence. She would have to earn her place, or at the very least, ensure they feared removing her from it.

They turned a corner, and Elyra's gaze fell upon a figure waiting in the shadows. A servant girl, her head bowed, stepped forward as they approached. Her pale hands clutched a folded piece of parchment, her expression unreadable.

"My lady," the girl murmured, offering the note.

Elyra hesitated before taking it. The wax seal bore no crest, just a simple mark resembling an eye. As she unfolded the letter, her pulse quickened.

Be wary of the king. He is not what he seems.

Her breath caught, and she instinctively glanced at Draven, but he had already started walking again, oblivious to the message in her hands.

A warning. From whom? And more importantly why?

Swallowing her unease, she tucked the parchment into the folds of her gown and hurried after Draven. She could not afford to show hesitation, not yet. But the letter had planted a seed of doubt. If there were secrets hidden in this palace, she would uncover them.

No matter the cost.

That night, sleep did not come easily. Elyra lay awake in the massive bed, the silk canopy above her casting scary shadows against the walls. The palace had grown silent, but the weight of the note pressed upon her mind. She turned over, staring at the high-arched window, the moonlight barely illuminating the room.

Was the sender an enemy or an ally? What did they mean by he is not what he seems? There were already many whispers about the king his ruthlessness, his unmatched level cunniness but was there something more?

A distant sound reached her ears, a soft rustling beyond the doors. Elyra sat up, listening. The noise came again, a faint scrape against the stone floors. Someone was there.

Slowly, she slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. She reached for the heavy robe draped over the chair, pulling it around her shoulders before moving toward the door. As she pressed her ear against the wood, her heartbeat thundered. Silence.

Then a sharp knock.

Elyra inhaled sharply. For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but something in her gut told her this was important. She reached for the handle and opened the door just enough to peer outside.

A hooded figure stood there, their face obscured by the shadows. "You need to be careful," the stranger whispered. "You are already being watched."

Before Elyra could respond, the figure turned and disappeared down the corridor, vanishing into the darkness like a specter.

Her hands clenched into fists as she closed the door, heart pounding. More questions, more uncertainty. And one growing realization she was truly alone in this palace.