chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

King Tommen sat upon his throne, his fingers drumming against the armrest as he listened to the minister before him. The words drifted into the air, but his mind was elsewhere. He had received the news this morning-Alissa Valois, the betrothed of his son, had been accepted into the Citadel.

He had long ignored the matter of the girl, believing her insignificant beyond the ties that bound her to Aethelgar through betrothal. Yet now, the first female to be accepted into the revered order of maesters bore his son's name as his intended. The world would take notice. And so must he.

He turned to his royal scribe, seated a few feet away, parchment and ink ready at hand.

"Write," Tommen ordered, his voice firm.

The scribe dipped his quill, waiting.

-

To King Mathias of House Valois,

It has long been understood that bonds between kingdoms are not mere formalities, but duties that must be honored. My son's betrothed, Lady Alissa Valois, has now made a name for herself, and I see no reason why I should not be given the courtesy of meeting her before she departs for the Citadel.

As the rightful future queen of Aethelgar, it is only proper that I see her with my own eyes, that I may assess if she is truly fit to carry the weight of such a title. It is a matter of respect, as well as expectation.

I trust you will not deny me this meeting. Aethelgar and Valla share long-standing ties, after all.

King Tommen of Aethelgar

-

Tommen leaned back as the scribe finished, sealing the letter with the insignia of the dragon of Aethelgar.

"Send it to Valla," he commanded. "I expect a swift response."

The steward bowed and took his leave, the letter in hand.

-

The halls of the royal palace were quiet, save for the soft steps of a hooded figure that slipped through the hidden corridors unseen. Within moments, the shadow guard reached the lone chamber where Prince Hosea sat, his cold gaze fixed upon the open book before him.

Without looking up, he spoke. "What is it?"

The shadow guard knelt before him, his voice low. "The king has sent a letter to Valla, requesting-demanding-to meet Lady Alissa Valois before she departs for the Citadel."

Hosea stilled, his fingers tightening slightly against the pages of his book. So, the king finally turned his eyes toward her.

He let out a soft exhale, then closed the book. "Interesting," he murmured. His expression remained unreadable, yet something flickered in his eyes.

------

A few hours later, Esmeralda stood before her chamber mirror as a maid carefully adjusted the lace of her gown. She barely acknowledged the girl-until another maid entered, bowing deeply.

"My queen," the maid said hesitantly, eyes downcast. "The king has sent word to Valla, requesting a meeting with Lady Alissa before she departs for the Citadel."

The lace in Esmeralda's hands tightened.

She turned slowly, her emerald eyes narrowing. "Is that so?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, my queen. The letter was sent this morning."

Esmeralda's lips curled slightly, though no warmth reached her gaze. "How curious. He has never cared for that girl before... yet now, suddenly, he wishes to see her?"

She exhaled, tapping her fingers lightly against the vanity. If Tommen was turning his attention toward Alissa, it could mean complications.

Or perhaps... opportunities.

With a soft smile, she dismissed the maids with a flick of her fingers. Then, alone in her chambers, she sat in quiet thought.

As Jasmine stepped out of the carriage, the familiar stone walls of the palace loomed before her. She had spent only a few days away at her family's estate, yet returning now felt strangely like stepping back into the very heart of her fate.

----

Dressed in a deep blue gown embroidered with silver, the colors of House Valois, she carried herself with the effortless grace expected of the Princess of Valla. Her marriage to Alistair was still new, the vows spoken not long ago, yet the palace already regarded her with the weight of expectation.

At the grand entrance, a handful of servants gathered, their murmurs filling the air as they watched her arrival. The moment she stepped forward, Alistair was there. He stood tall at the top of the steps, his expression unreadable, arms folded as though he had been waiting.

Jasmine lifted her chin, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "Husband," she greeted smoothly, her voice carrying across the courtyard.

Alistair's gaze swept over her before he descended the steps. "You've taken your time."

"You missed me," she teased.

"I did not say that."

"But you did not deny it."

He sighed, offering his arm, which she took with ease. Together, they entered the palace, their steps in sync. Jasmine's sharp gaze flickered to Elias, who stood to the side, watching as always. She could feel the weight of his stare, the ever-present shadow in Alistair's life.

She leaned closer to her husband, lowering her voice just enough for only him to hear. "Your knight does not look pleased to see me."

Alistair's lips barely twitched. "Elias rarely looks pleased about anything."

Jasmine smirked but said nothing more.

As they walked through the halls, King Mathias awaited them in the great chamber. The moment Jasmine stepped in, he gave a small nod of approval.

The silence in the chamber was thick with unspoken thoughts. Mathias sat with the letter before him, his gaze unreadable, while Alistair stood nearby, arms crossed, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger. Grendy, ever the steady presence, observed them both, his expression calm but sharp.

Jasmine stood beside Alistair, her hands clasped before her. She had only just returned, expecting a quiet resettling into the palace, yet she had walked into this-tension so dense it weighed upon her chest.

She had not read the letter, but she knew its contents well enough. King Tommen of Aethelgar was summoning Alissa to court, claiming the right to meet his future daughter-in-law before she departed for the Citadel.

Jasmine could not understand why the room felt so suffocating at the mere mention of this.

"It is not a request," Alistair muttered, his voice sharp. "It is a demand."

Grendy gave a slow nod, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "It was bound to come sooner or later."

Alistair scoffed, his anger barely concealed. "Then we should have been rid of that cursed betrothal long ago."

Jasmine frowned slightly. Why was this such a cause for alarm? The marriage, though politically arranged, was not the worst fate. Aethelgar was the strongest kingdom. Would it not be a great advantage for Valla?

Yet Mathias remained silent, his fingers steepled as he stared at the parchment. He was thinking deeply.

"We will refuse," Alistair stated flatly.

Jasmine blinked. Just like that?

"You do not command here," Mathias finally spoke, his voice even but firm.

Alistair exhaled sharply but said nothing. Jasmine glanced between them, watching the way her husband stood rigid with tension.

Mathias then turned to Grendy. "The wrong response could cost us dearly."

Grendy nodded. "We must be careful. We will not allow him to believe he has power over us, but we cannot afford to provoke him needlessly."

"Provoke?" Alistair repeated, his voice low. "He has already overstepped. She is not his to summon like some common girl at his beck and call."

"We are not at war, prince Alistair l," Grendy reminded, his tone measured.

Alistair's glare deepened, but he said nothing.

Jasmine observed them all in silence, confusion prickling at her mind. Why was everyone so against this? Why such sharp resistance, as though the idea itself were unthinkable?

She could not shake the feeling that something was being left unsaid.

---

The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across the room. The scent of burning wax mingled with the faint traces of perfume from Alissa's skin, filling the air with warmth. She straddled Adam, her dark silk hair cascading over her bare shoulders, framing the flush on her cheeks. He traced his fingers over her thighs, watching as she moved atop him, her breath uneven yet controlled-never too loud, for the walls had ears.

His lips found her collarbone, trailing slow kisses downward as his hands slid up her waist. Her body arched as he reached her breasts, his tongue flicking over her nipple before capturing it between his lips, drawing a quiet gasp from her. She bit down on her lip, stifling the sound, and he smirked against her skin, feeling the way she trembled under him.

The bed creaked beneath them, the slow, rhythmic movement filling the silence of the night. Alissa's fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails leaving faint crescent marks on his skin as their bodies moved in perfect unison. Adam held her tighter, his grip firm but reverent, as if memorizing every inch of her.

They lost track of time, lost in each other, their passion stretching deep into the late hours. When exhaustion finally took them, Alissa curled into him, her head resting against his chest. Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arm wrapping securely around her waist. Sleep claimed them both soon after, their bodies tangled together beneath the silken sheets.

Morning came too soon.

The first hints of sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow upon the chamber. Adam stirred first, blinking against the light before realization struck-he was supposed to have left at dawn. He turned his head slightly, his breath hitching as he saw Alissa still sleeping soundly beside him, her dark hair splayed over the pillows, her bare skin illuminated in the soft light.

A sudden knock at the door sent a jolt through him. His heartbeat quickened.

Outside, the voices of maids and guards drifted through the corridor. The palace was waking.

Adam turned to Alissa, shaking her gently. "Alissa," he whispered urgently.

Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. "What...?" she mumbled before she, too, realized what was happening. She sat up swiftly, pulling the sheets around her. Their moment of bliss had come to an abrupt end.

Alissa barely had time to think before another knock came at the door.

"My lady?" came the voice of a maid. "Shall I prepare your morning garments?"

Adam swore under his breath, reaching for his clothes.

Alissa scrambled to sit up, smoothing the tousled sheets. "J-Just a moment!" she called, voice still hoarse from the night before.

As the maid entered, Alissa kept her expression calm, though her heart pounded against her ribs. Beneath the bed, Adam held his breath, his body tense as he listened to the soft rustling of fabric and the clinking of a water jug being set down.

"My lady," the maid said, glancing around, her gaze lingering for a moment on the slightly disheveled sheets before shifting to Alissa. "Shall I prepare your bath?"

Alissa shook her head. "Not yet. I will call for you when I am ready. I prefer to dress myself this morning."

The maid hesitated just slightly, exchanging a brief glance with the other servant at the door. It was unusual for their lady to refuse assistance, but neither of them dared question her outright. Instead, they curtsied.

"As you wish, my lady."

Alissa watched as they exited, her posture remaining poised until the door latched shut. Only then did she exhale, the tension in her shoulders melting as she threw back the covers.

"You can come out now," she murmured.

A moment later, Adam slid from under the bed, his tunic slightly askew, his hair tousled from sleep and the cramped hiding spot. He sat back on his heels, looking up at her with a grin.

"That was close."

Alissa rolled her eyes. "Too close. You were supposed to leave before dawn."

"I would have, if you hadn't worn me out," he teased, reaching for her wrist and pulling her toward him.

She let out a soft laugh, swatting at his chest. "We were reckless."

His arms encircled her waist as he pressed a kiss against her stomach through the sheet she still clutched around herself. "And yet, I regret nothing."

She shivered at his touch, her fingers threading through his hair as he looked up at her with warmth and mischief in his eyes.

"They're already suspicious," she murmured.

"Let them wonder," he said, rising to his feet, his hands trailing along her sides. "They'll never truly know."

She sighed, resting her forehead against his chest, the heat of him grounding her. "You should go now, before someone else comes knocking."

He groaned but nodded, reluctantly releasing her. "Tonight?"

Alissa hesitated, then smiled. "Tonight."

With a final lingering kiss, Adam slipped toward the hidden passage, leaving her standing in the quiet of her chambers, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Alissa moved to her vanity, her fingers trailing over the polished wood before she reached beneath the carved edge, where she had hidden a small, worn pouch. Her heart was steady, her hands sure as she pulled it out and loosened the drawstring. Inside was a folded piece of parchment wrapped around a fine, dark powder-the very thing she had acquired in the market weeks ago, disguised beneath a heavy hood, her steps careful and measured.

Lunaria Root.

A rare and potent herb, ground into a fine dust. Known in whispers and hushed exchanges among healers and midwives, it was used for two purposes-to prevent what had not yet taken root or to rid the body of what already had.

She had not hesitated when she bought it.

She would not hesitate now.

Moving with quiet precision, Alissa poured a measured amount into a silver goblet, filling it with water from the pitcher on her table. She stirred it gently, watching as the dark grains dissolved, turning the liquid a deep amber.

Lifting the cup to her lips, she drank. The taste was bitter, earthy, but she did not grimace. She swallowed it all, setting the goblet down with a quiet clink.

She took a breath, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark silk hair cascaded over her shoulders, her pale skin untouched by the sun's harshness, her green eyes unreadable.

For nights now, they had lost themselves in each other, drowning in passion as if it could ward off the inevitable distance that would soon separate them. She was leaving-going for years-and Adam had refused to waste a single moment they had left. He had touched her with a desperate reverence, kissed her until she was breathless, worshiped every inch of her body as if committing it to memory.

Again and again, he had claimed her, their nights stretching until dawn, their bodies spent but never satisfied, because no amount of closeness ever felt like enough. They had given in to every unspoken longing, knowing that soon, all they would have were memories to hold onto.

This was the path she had chosen.

And she would walk it, unflinching.