Page 53 of Lost Moon

The knight parts his lips, his gaze tracking her defensive posture with an unhurried observation. “Terrifying, is it not? The way these powerful men scream and draw blades over borders while you are left seeking shelter beneath a borrower’s coat.” His accent is quite thick, his deep voice mirroring Omar’s smoothness in tone but carrying an artificial layer of warmth.

“Who are you?” Elara asks with an accusatory sharpness in her voice. “You have been staring at me all evening.”

“I am Amir,” he says simply, a confident smile forming on his lips to mask his true intent. “Simply a knight working for Omar. Just like the rest.”

Elara turns her head, her eyes discreetly looking around to find any guards or knights to shield her. There is nobody near them except the two guards stationed by the outer gates, whose gazes remain fixed ahead. Her fingers curl against the fabric of her black dress, her knuckles turning white as she searches for an escape from the isolation.

“I do not mean any offense, Your Highness. I am simply here to find my way out of the chaos as well. The deliberate insult from Omar is unbelievable,” Amir says, insulting the very leader he serves, his voice lowering into a sympathetic murmur to win her confidence. He takes a single, slow step closer, his hands held open to project an innocent, harmless demeanor. “He is always like that, and I have no choice but to shield him.”

“Can you not leave?” Elara asks as she avoids his piercing gaze, her hands moving down to hide the throbbing burn on her skin.

Amir lets out a humorless laugh. “Leaving a warlord like Omar is not a matter of simply walking away, Your Highness. Once you wear his crest, your life belongs to his campaigns. If I desert my post, my family across the southern border pays the price.” He lowers his head, letting a silence hang between them to let his fabricated tragedy sink in. “So, I stay. I shield his cruelty, even when it sickens me.”

Elara studies his uncovered features, the genuine warmth of her nature wrestling with the deep caution she learned back in Veyrenn. The raw honesty of his words touches a familiar ache in her own chest. She understands the suffocating weight of being bound to a ruthless ruler’s demands. “I apologize,” she murmurs, her voice softening as she relaxes her defensive stance by an inch. “No one should be forced to carry a burden that causes them misery.”

A glint of satisfaction flashes across Amir’s hazel eyes, though he quickly conceals it behind a grateful smile. He takes another slow step forward, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “You are far too kind for a palace like this, Princess. I saw the way you straightened your spine inside when the shouting started. You are trying so hard to stand as a shield for Prince Cael, though I wonder... who is shielding you?”

The sudden, intrusive question makes her breath hitch, her fingers tightening around her black dress by her hips.

“He is a powerful prince, no doubt,” Amir continues, planting the first seed of suspicion into her thoughts. “But men who remain entirely silent usually do so because they are hiding darkness. Do not let his royal titles blind you to the danger, Elara. You are completely alone in this kingdom, and you deserve someone you can truly trust.”

Elara tilts her head, her gaze sharpening. “How do you know so much about him?”

“It is hard to avoid a reputed prince like him,” Amir replies, a faint, mocking crease appearing at the corners of his eyes. “Always devoted to his duties, enduring the disrespect from the court, and he is seemingly very kind and caring, is he not?”

Elara clenches her jaw. How did he manage to pinpoint her exact thoughts about Cael so easily? The fragile trust she had begun to extend toward her husband shatters as Amir’s words pierce into her heart like ice shards.

“That is his show,” Amir purrs, stepping a fraction closer as his voice drops into a cold, dangerous register. “He shows such deliberate kindness, acting as though he is perfect to enhance his arrogance and secure his upcoming title as the kindest King Riverath has ever seen.” A pause follows, his eyes piercing directly into Elara’s features. “Have you not witnessed it? Are you not tricked?”

“My bond with Cael is none of your concern,” Elara lashes out, her defensive training kicking in as she takes another step back to create distance between them. “You are a knight from another kingdom, and I do not think this conversation is appropriate.”

“You do believe he is a good man. I am sorry for you.”

A rush of footsteps breaks through the shadows at the top of the stairs. It is Cael, and only him, his rapid movements carrying a visible worry. His black boots echo against the large garden’s silence, but before Elara can move to reach him, her hand is gently grabbed by Amir as his lips make contact against her knuckles.

Her knees nearly buckle at the unexpected, intimate contact from a man she does not know and does not like. She cannot move, her body stilling as she forgets the function of every muscle in her frame, leaving only the burning sensation of an unknown man’s lips pressing against her skin beneath the moonlight.

XXI

THEIR FIRST CLOSURE

C

Cael closes the distance with rapid speed, his boots thudding hard against the stone. He steps directly between Elara and Amir, his broad shoulders and tall silhouette cutting off the space between them and forcing Amir to let go of her hand. His gut aches at what he had witnessed. The sight of Elara’s shock from the action. The motion of her rubbing the top of her knuckles where Amir kissed.

She did not ask for it and neither did she like it.

Cael's entire body goes rigid as he senses Elara shrink behind him. Grasping Amir’s collar, he pulls the man closer until they are nose to nose, his bruised knuckles turning stark white under the strain. His glare conveys a threat that requires no weapon.

“We meet again, Cael,” Amir says, his voice carrying that same smooth, mocking tone as he stares directly into the prince’s gaze. “You are still as weak as ever. You have not learned anything.” He remains entirely unbothered by the crushing grip on his shirt. Releasing his hold smoothly, he lifts both hands in a gesture of exaggerated innocence, a patronizing smile lingering on his lips before he pulls the dark black fabric of his face-wrap back up over his jaw to conceal his features.

The fury vibrating through Cael’s shoulders darkens the space between them. He does not lift his hands to sign a response, refusing to grant the foreign knight a single motion of his physical language. His glare remains fixed on the man, a wordless promise of ruin if he ever steps near Elara again.

Amir lets out a muffled scoff beneath his black layers, unbothered by the lethal promise written across the prince’s features. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper meant to pierce the quiet garden. “You can play the silent protector all you wish, Your Highness, but we both know the truth. You cannot shield her from the darkness you keep hidden in your own courts. A mute crown cannot build an alliance out of lies.”

Turning his head toward Elara one last time, Amir offers a slow, mocking bow that ridicules the stiff formality of the palace. “Sleep well, Princess Elara. I am sure your perfect husband has many more secrets to share with you in the dark.”

Cael steps forward, his fingers clamping around Amir’s wrist. With a sharp twist, he cranks the arm backward, forcing Amir’s shoulder down. A gasp escapes Amir’s lips as his knees buckle under the strain, his weight shifting to find balance against the grip. Cael does not lift his hands to sign a response.