Shadows in the Throne Room

The throne room smelled of damp stone and wax, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. King Alaric lounged on his gilded throne, a jeweled goblet in hand. His robes strained against his bulk as he leaned forward, squinting at the men before him.

“You return empty-handed,” he spat, his voice sharp and grating.

The tallest of the three knelt, his battered armor clinking. His left eye was swollen shut, and a jagged tear ran through his leather tunic. “Your Majesty, the beast—it’s not just fierce. It’s... cunning.”

“Cunning?!” The king’s meaty fist slammed onto the armrest. “A fire-spewing lizard outwits you?”

The knight stiffened but said nothing. Another man, younger, and less injured, stepped forward. “We attacked as you ordered, sire. The dragon knew we were coming. It... waited for us.”

The king growled, his double chin quivering. “Cowards! That creature mocks me with every breath it draws.” He turned to his steward. “Send another group—stronger this time. I want that dragon dead!”

Rosalind stood at the edge of the room, her slender figure half-hidden by the heavy drapes. Her hazel eyes flicked toward the knights, sympathy tightening her chest. She knew they would die like the rest.

Later, in her small room, Rosalind pulled out a sheet of parchment. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over her desk as she dipped her quill into the inkpot. Her hand moved quickly, writing words meant for

him

.

Theo was the prince of a neighboring kingdom. They had met during a rare royal gathering before her mother passed. His kindness and sharp wit had drawn her in, and though their kingdoms were distant, their bond had only grown stronger through their secret letters.

“Theo,” she whispered softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. He was far away, but her words would bridge the distance.