Chapter 5 -King Alexander-

-King Alexander-

The banquet preparations continue as planned.

Servants move through the corridors carrying trays and flowers. Musicians tune instruments in distant chambers. Courtiers whisper about the arrival of Veylan's royal family and speculate about the wedding that will one day unite two kingdoms.

The palace continues breathing.

But I find myself watching. Watching has always been easier than speaking. Truth magic is not what most people believe it to be. They imagine a gift that exposes every lie the moment it is spoken. The reality is far less dramatic and far more useful.

Truth reveals itself in patterns, in hesitations, in what people do when they forget they are being observed.

And today, I saw several things that do not fit together.

The prisoner sits in the cell beneath the palace, his wrists bound and his shoulders trembling. He looks smaller now than he did in the courtyard, now a frightened man instead of a threat.

I study him quietly while Agameus leans against the opposite wall. The man keeps insisting he does not remember attacking Avianna. Ordinarily I would assume deception. Instead, truth magic continues to tell me the same thing. He believes every word of what he is saying. His confusion, fear and lack of memory are all genuine. That troubles me more than a lie would.

"Tell me again what you remember," I say.

The man squeezes his eyes shut.

"I was walking," he says weakly. "I was heading home."

Truth.

"Then what happened?"

His breathing becomes uneven.

"I heard something."

My attention sharpens.

"What did you hear?"

The man swallows.

"A woman laughing, but she…. I felt her, I was drawn to her."

The cell falls silent. The prisoner lowers his gaze.

"I know how that sounds."

Unfortunately, so do I. Because when he rushed my daughter, I felt something too, something that should not have existed. I glance toward Agameus. The elder's expression reveals very little. That alone is revealing. Agameus only becomes quiet when something genuinely concerns him. My thoughts return to the courtyard, to the people around the attack, but not the attack itself. The attack lasted seconds, but the crowd's reactions told me far more.

Truth reveals itself most clearly when people are surprised. When instinct answers before thought has time to intervene. I have spent decades watching those moments. The attack against my daughter is not what concerned me the most today. No man has proved to be a match against Caylix and fear for her safety left me long ago. 

What concerned me the most today was Prince Rhydon. Not because he did anything wrong, but because he did exactly nothing. When danger appeared, Rhydon moved toward Avianna only after the outcome had already been decided. He positioned himself beside her. Presented concern, looked every bit the future husband and future king.

The performance was convincing. The instinct beneath it was not. A man can train himself to appear brave. He cannot train the first heartbeat and that heartbeat always belongs to truth.

Rhydon's truth was hesitation, cowardice even.

My fingers tap once against the stone arm of the chair. I dislike that realization more than I would like to admit. Because Avianna deserves a man who moves first. Not one who waits to see whether someone else already has.

My attention shifts to King Erik. He surprised me. Not the man himself, but the things he noticed. I replay the moments carefully.

The attack begins, Caylix moves and almost as quickly, Erik moves. The threat is neutralized quickly by Caylix.

And then… Erik watches him.

He watched Caylix the way a starving man studies a meal he cannot quite believe is real.

The memory lingers. Each time I return to it, the feeling grows stronger. Curiosity would have made sense. Admiration would have made sense. Even suspicion would have made sense.

This was none of those. There was recognition in it. I have known Erik for many years. He hides his emotions better than most kings. Today, for a single moment, he forgot. And that interests me. I wonder what he noticed about Caylix first. His speed. His intuition around danger. His ease at disarming the man. Or perhaps he noticed what the rest of the continent has begun noticing.

Stories travel faster than armies. Particularly stories about men who should not exist.

Caylix has commanded my forces for years now. In that time, he has never lost a battle. Not one. He sees weaknesses other commanders miss. Anticipates movements before they happen. Wins engagements that should end in defeat and somehow walks away making it look inevitable.

The soldiers tell stories about him when they think their officers are not listening.

The Shadow Commander. The man who appears where fighting is worst and leaves victory behind him.

Some of it is exaggeration, but not all. I have watched seasoned generals twice his age leave strategy meetings frustrated because a boy with no noble blood and no formal education saw the solution before they did.

I have watched veteran warriors underestimate him. No one ever makes that mistake twice. Perhaps word of those victories reached Veylan. Perhaps Erik arrived already intending to meet the commander who has become something bordering on legend beyond our borders.

That explanation would be reasonable. Comforting, even.

Kings take interest in powerful men. They always have. Warriors who win battles become valuable long before they become famous. A commander who has never lost is the sort of man rulers notice.

The problem is that it does not feel true.

Because admiration was not what I saw in Erik's eyes. Nor was curiosity.

We have never been able to determine what Caylix is, or where his runes came from. Agameus has spent the past month buried beneath books trying to understand why a tenth rune appeared on a man who does not know who he is or where he came from.

For years, that mystery has occupied enough of my attention for several lifetimes. Today, for the first time, I find myself looking at it from a different direction.

Not wondering what Caylix is but wondering who might already know. My gaze drifts toward the prisoner, but I am no longer seeing him.

Instead, I see Erik's face in the moments after the attack. The way his attention found Caylix and refused to let go, the way he watched him throughout the afternoon, at dinner, in the courtyard…

Each time Caylix entered a room, Erik's attention followed.

The realization settles uneasily in my chest. I know why kingdoms come seeking alliances, I know why kings study heirs, and I know why fathers assess the men who stand beside their daughters.

I do not know why King Erik spent the entire afternoon watching my commander.

The thought should feel absurd. Instead, it grows heavier the longer I sit with it. Because if I noticed it, then others certainly did as well.

An uncomfortable possibility presents itself. One I dislike immediately.

Veylan arrived seeking an alliance.

At least, that is what they claim.

But for the first time since their arrival, I find myself wondering whether they came for Avianna at all.