Rylan stumbled through a side passage, blood trailing behind him.
He couldn't stay, not with the guards hunting him. He had to flee and so he did.
He ran until the palace disappeared behind him. He climbed a wall he had put a rope to earlier on and escaped but the guilt followed.
And now, back in his dim chamber, Rylan stared at the queen's letter with his wound still bandaged and his conscience raw.
Only now did he understood:
There was someone else pulling the cards and Prince Eric had been a target. The person had planned every detail. Rylan whispered into the empty room:
"I should have warned the queen. I should have protected the king and the prince."
But regret didn't rewrite history.
Outside, the bells rang and it was the sign that the investigation and the council members were gathering again.
Rylan rose slowly towards his window. A dove came towards him with a paper tied to leg.
You must stay out of sight. The investigation is intense. I shall recall you.
It was from the queen and he knew what he needed to do.
Rylan picked up his cloak, braced his injured side, and stepped into the cold air away from the palace, toward the city gate with a truth he could only carry alone.
The queen's chamber was quiet especially for a night when the palace had barely recovered from the chaos of Prince Eric's attempted attack on the king. Outside her balcony, the moon shone on the courtyard in pale blue, yet Queen Elizabeth sat unmoving beneath the soft glow of her lantern.
Her hands rested upon the carved armrests of her chair, but her fingers tapped the wood restlessly.
She hated silence for it forced her to think.
And tonight, thinking was dangerous.
The queen's private chamber was enormous, draped in soft crimson curtains, perfumed with sandalwood and illuminated by a dozen small oil lamps. But beneath the softness lay tension that was heavy and unseen, like a storm that refused to break.
Queen Elizabeth leaned forward, elbows on her knees, as she whispered into the empty room,
"Who was the second conspirator?"
Her voice trembled only slightly but just enough to betray her unease.
She had planned everything meticulously, or so she believed.
The paralysis of Eric as a temporary incapacitation that would place Adrian nearer the throne.
Rylan's involvement was carefully chosen and quietly pressured.
The instructions were delivered in secret and letter was sent discreetly by a dove nights earlier.
Yet something had happened she never intended.
A second player had interfered and probably hired who she had not hired. Someone she had not even guessed existed. Probably a ghost in the shadows.
She rubbed her forehead slowly as her eyes narrowed.
"No… who are you?" she whispered to the air. "Who dared step into my plan and frame my son?"
A soft breeze from the balcony rustled the parchment papers on her table. It was filled with maps, intelligence reports, old letters, and the ripped remnants of Rylan's first message.
Her mind wandered back to him.
Rylan.
A loyal guard who was quiet and obedient.
He was unremarkable enough to be invisible until she needed him.
She remembered their meeting vividly. It replayed over and over in her head like a broken memory shard.
The queen had chosen the secluded garden behind the eastern wall, where the rose vines grew high and the guards rarely patrolled. Only two lanterns burned there, flickering against the leaves.
Rylan stood waiting, posture firm, expression neutral. When she approached, he dropped to one knee.
"Your Majesty."
"Stand," she commanded. Her voice held authority, but not cruelty.
He stood.
Queen Elizabeth studied him. "Do you know why I summoned you privately?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"I was told you are a fine healer," she said. "You fame is quite vast."
Rylan kept his face expressionless. "Thank you, your majesty."
"I feel aches and it's been long like my legs could seize walking after a while ."
Rylan hesitated only slightly.
"Your Majesty… this is…"
"A threat to my life. Does that mean I won't walk soon?," she finished for him.
He blinked. "Your Majesty, I understand. But with a little work, you'll be fine."
"I'm glad to hear that," she replied, tone tightening. "The kingdom needs healers like you who will aid the people in securing health and stability for this realm."
Rylan shifted uneasily, but bowed his head. "Thank you, your majesty. You flatter me."
Her eyes softened. "I do not wish to flatter you but I'm merely saying the truth."
He nodded again and left.
They never noticed that a third person had been hiding among the garden shadows.
Lena, the queens handmaid.
A quiet girl who knew how to move too silently.
Queen Elizabeth hadn't even known she was there that night.
But Lena heard every word. And the other discussion when he revisited the queen after the king's attack..
And Lena died days later, shot by an "unexpected arrow" from the west tower.
The queen wasn't certain whether her death was natural or silenced by someone else.
And that bothered her more than anything.
Queen Elizabeth sighed, sitting back in her velvet chair.
"Lena probably died with secrets," she whispered. "Which means one of two things: she threatened someone… or someone used her death to hide their own plans."
Her gaze fell upon the wooden perch near the balcony, the one where the palace doves landed.
It was empty now.
After the interrogation, she had tied a letter to the leg of her favorite white dove and sent it through the night air to Rylan.
Her message had been short, yet deliberate.
Leave the city. Stay silent. Wait for my summons and trust no one.
Yet Rylan had not appeared nor responded, but had simply… vanished.
But what troubled her more was that Rylan had not followed her plan completely and had revealed himself by trying to stop Eric.
The queen knew that attack was someone else's doing. Someone else had sprayed the perfume and had sent the guard who slipped the knife into Eric's hand. And that person had forced the king's near-death.
And now the queen found herself unable to untangle the strands.
She rose from her chair and walked to her mirror with a polished silver bordered with gold. Her reflection stared back at her with lips tight and eyes tired.
"A queen should never look uncertain," she murmured to her reflection. "And yet here I stand… confused."
She pressed her palm to the glass.
"Who are you?" she asked her unknown enemy softly. "Who walks in the shadows?"
He read it again anyway, the queen's elegant script slicing through the silence.
Rylan,
You have served me faithfully, quietly, and without question. But I fear the lastborn might get the inheritance of the firstborn. So I ask a favor from you. What I ask now must remain forever hidden.
Prince Eric's path must be halted, merely… stilled. Paralyze him temporarily. It will smooth the transition for his brother when the time comes.
Do this swiftly, cleanly, and with no trace pointing back to us.
When it is done, leave the palace until I recall you.
He had read it at least a dozen times since she'd secretly handed it to him weeks earlier.
And now, with the queen's order completed and the palace roaring with chaos, Rylan sat alone, remembering how everything had gone wrong.
How everything had spiraled beyond the plan.
He closed his eyes, and the memory unfolded once more…
A week earlier, Prince Eric walked into the royal council chamber with his usual calm confidence. He wore his wedding robe, a simple tunic of deep blue, and his expression carried that mix of warmth and uncertainty that made most of the palace trust him instinctively.
Behind him, Rylan walked with deliberate neutrality. He was placed by the queen to be a guard that day and they were meant to be shadows, present but unseen. Yet Rylan was painfully aware of every step he took.
He was about to betray the prince or at least… do something that felt like betrayal.
Instructions from the queen echoed in his mind:
"Not death, or harm. Merely stillness is like paralysis. A pause."
But Rylan had long learned that even the softest words could hide knives.
The king's chamber doors opened, and King Jerrmy looked up from the map he was studying.
"You're late," the king said, though without anger.
Eric bowed lightly. "My apologies. I stopped to help a servant whose tray had fallen."
Prince Adrian, standing beside the king with arms folded, scoffed softly. "Always the hero."
Eric shot him a look. "Always the human."
Prince Adrain came in afterward with Princess Athalia.
Rylan stood behind them, blending with the guards along the walls. He kept his breathing steady, though his pulse raced.
Because he had already slipped the potion into Prince Eric's drink fifteen minutes earlier.
A mild paralyzing blend was gentle, subtle and not immediately noticeable. It was meant to weaken the prince's limbs, slow his reflexes and make him unfitting to attend active royal duties or stand in court.
Temporarily and not cruel or so the queen had said.
Rylan had done his part. The plan should have ended with Eric quietly collapsing or requesting to rest after drinking and nothing more.
But fate twisted plans the way storms bent trees.
His brother stormed out with Princess Adrain after their long discussion with the king concerning ruling.
Eric reached for the goblet set beside him and took a small sip.
Rylan held his breath.
Nothing happened.
The king stood up and walked out of the chambers with Eric following closely holding his cup. Rylan excused himself and followed them observing.
He took another sip.
Eric blinked once, confused.
Rylan felt a knot tighten in his chest. He guessed It was starting.
The prince's movements subtly slowed. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on the goblet. A light tremor touched his fingers.
The king noticed.
"Eric, are you well?"
"Yes," Eric said, though his voice sounded faintly distant. "Just warm. The room feels… different."
Adrian smirked. "Perhaps you should train more and drink less."
Eric ignored the jab.
They were now at the west courtyard. Rylan steadied his stance. The potion was doing its work. Soon, the prince would slur his words, feel heavy and perhaps ask to retire.
One more sip and Rylan would escort him out, claim he'd fallen ill, and the matter would end there.
But then…
A guard walked past Rylan. A guard Rylan did not recognize by uniform, by gait or by the slight tilt of his chin.
Something felt wrong.
The man carried a folded parchment in one hand.
He passed behind Eric, bowing respectfully. "Your Highness."
Eric turned and frowned slightly and confused. "Yes"
The guard moved closer than necessary.
Rylan sensed the danger before he understood it.
The guard pressed his thumb against the wax seal of a bottle and seemed to have sprayed something hidden inside it.
A soft puff of air escaped like a fragrance.
A sweet, deceptive scent was barely there, but potent enough to override reason.
Eric inhaled sharply.
Rylan stepped forward instinctively. "Your Highness…!"
But the guard's next action froze him.
With practiced subtlety, he slipped something into Eric's palm. It was a thin, sharp dagger that was easily concealed.
Then a voice came from no where but loud enough for Rylan to hear like breeze.
"Kill the king, Eric" The voice spoke.
Eric nodded. The scent twisted through Eric's senses like invisible wires.
The potion weakened him, the perfume clouded his mind and the blade filled his hand.
A perfect storm.
The king who had been looking towards the palace gates, turned around and stepped backward. "Eric, drop the knife."
The Kings goblet fell in fear. Eric tried to stop himself. Rylan could see it but his fingers trembled with effort. For the perfume held him like a puppet on silk strings.
Rylan moved closer, pretending to adjust his stance.
He whispered sharply, low enough for Eric alone:
"Drop it, Your Highness. Fight it."
Eric looked directly at him, eyes clouded with hypnosis. His gaze jerked upward as the both struggled.
Rylan followed it instinctively.
There, at the west guard tower window, a man seemed to watch.
Rylan froze.
Because that man… was a guard on watch from the palace guards.
Eric suddenly stumbled forward, raising the knife toward the king.
King Jeremy stepped back in shock, very close to the railings he was locked into.
In the struggle, Rylan stepped back, preparing to slip away from the watchers eyes when Eric pushed him and a sharp sting tore across his arm.
Rylan gasped, gripping the wound.
Rylan lunged without thinking but ran away before he was seen.
Then it happened. The king lay breathless in his arms. Guards rushed forward.
His grip loosened.
The prince surged forward blindly as the dagger slipped from him and the king lay on his arms unable to say a word.
"Father, father, oh no, please wake up. "Eric Cried.
Eric raised his head and slightly say Rylan as he ran. He called out for help.
Guards came and helped Prince Eric.
"A man ran that way!."
The guards turned and followed the blood trail.
"FATHER, stay with me!" Eric cried as guards carried the king out.