Chapter 26 – The Gentleman Heir
The capital of Valemor glittered like a lie.
Elowen stood at the edge of the marble terrace, hands folded carefully before her, her posture straight in the way Mistress Virelle had drilled into her during the long nights of preparation. From here, she could see the spires of the royal palace cutting into the sky like sharpened blades, their golden banners snapping in the wind. Music drifted from the grand ballroom behind her violins and flutes weaving together in something light and joyful that felt painfully out of place in her chest.
She had been to noble halls before.
She had scrubbed them.
Tonight, she stood among them.
Her gown was the color of moonlight caught in ash simple compared to the extravagant silks around her, but elegant in a way that felt truer to her. Kael had chosen it himself. The thought still unsettled her.
"You're hiding," came a warm voice beside her.
Elowen turned, startled.
The man who stood there wore a soft smile, his blond hair neatly tied back, his attire immaculate without being ostentatious. His presence was… gentle. Disarming. Unlike the nobles who looked at her as though she were a curiosity or a calculation, his gaze held something closer to genuine interest.
"I'm not," she said automatically.
He chuckled quietly. "Forgive me. That was presumptuous. Lord Cedric Valenwood."
He bowed not deeply, but respectfully. As an equal.
Elowen hesitated before curtsying. "Elowen Blackspire."
Something flickered in his eyes at the name. Surprise. Then understanding.
"So the rumors are true," Cedric said softly. "The Warlord married a woman no one saw coming."
Elowen stiffened. "If you came to insult me"
"I came to apologize," he interrupted gently. "For this."
He gestured to the ballroom, to the whispers she could feel more than hear. "Valemor has a talent for cruelty dressed as etiquette."
She studied him carefully. There was no mockery in his expression. No hunger. Just… kindness.
"I'm used to it," she said, though the words tasted hollow.
Cedric frowned. "You shouldn't be."
Before she could respond, a subtle pressure rolled across the terrace cold, vast, and unmistakable.
Kael.
He stood at the threshold of the ballroom, a towering figure in black, his presence alone enough to quiet conversations. Shadows curled faintly at his feet, restrained only by sheer force of will. His gaze was locked on them.
On Cedric.
Elowen felt it immediately the shift in the air, the tightening in her chest. Kael's power reacted not with violence, but with something far more dangerous.
Possession.
Cedric sensed it too. His posture straightened, though his expression remained calm. "Ah," he murmured. "So that's him."
Elowen turned fully toward Kael.
Their eyes met.
The bond between them still unnamed, still unspoken hummed like a drawn blade.
Kael crossed the terrace with deliberate steps, each one measured, controlled. When he stopped beside Elowen, the night itself seemed to hold its breath.
"My lord," Cedric said, bowing properly this time.
Kael did not return it.
"Who are you?" Kael asked, his voice low, even.
"Lord Cedric Valenwood."
Kael's gaze flicked briefly to Elowen, then back. "Why are you speaking with my wife?"
The words my wife landed heavy and warm in Elowen's chest.
Cedric smiled faintly. "Because she looked like she needed someone to speak to her like a person."
Silence fell.
Not the polite kind.
The dangerous kind.
Elowen's fingers twitched, instinctively brushing against Kael's sleeve. The shadows recoiled at her touch, retreating as though chastened.
"She is always spoken to as she deserves," Kael said.
Cedric met his gaze without flinching. "Then you are fortunate. Many men in this hall would not agree."
Kael's eyes darkened.
"That is not your concern."
Cedric inclined his head. "Perhaps not. But if you ever fail her, my lord, you will find many willing to step forward."
The temperature dropped.
Elowen inhaled sharply. "Lord Cedric," she said quickly, "that won't be necessary."
Cedric looked at her then, truly looked. "If you say so, Lady Blackspire."
He bowed again, deeper this time. "Enjoy the evening."
When he was gone, the silence between Elowen and Kael stretched taut.
"You should not be alone with men like him," Kael said finally.
Her brows drew together. "Like him?"
"Men who see what is not theirs."
She turned fully to him now. "I am not something to be owned."
Kael stiffened.
"I know," he said, too quickly. "That is not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He searched for the words, an unfamiliar tension in his expression. "I meant that the court is dangerous. Kindness here is rarely without intent."
"And what about yours?" she asked quietly.
His breath caught.
"My intent," he said slowly, "has never been to harm you."
"I know."
The words surprised them both.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "But you don't get to decide who speaks to me. I spent my life being controlled. I won't live it again."
The shadows at his feet stilled completely.
Kael nodded once. "You're right."
The admission cost him something. She could feel it.
"I will not cage you," he said. "Even if the thought terrifies me."
Her heart softened painfully.
"Kael," she whispered, his name still new on her tongue, "I don't need a cage. I need… choice."
He reached out slowly, stopping just short of touching her cheek. "And if your choice leads you away from me?"
Her gaze lifted to his. "Then you will survive it."
A beat.
"I would not," he said honestly.
The truth of it pulsed between them.
The music swelled behind them, distant and unreal. Elowen closed the remaining space between them, resting her forehead against his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her ear steady, powerful, alive.
Kael's arms came around her hesitantly, as though afraid she might vanish.
For a moment, the world narrowed to breath and warmth and the fragile understanding growing between them.
Across the ballroom, unseen but not unfelt, whispers bloomed.
The Warlord of Blackspire was jealous.
And the woman at his side was no longer invisible.