CHAPTER 7

Corvin had not truly slept. Light edged the stone floor in a pale grey line, and he watched it climb toward the couch where Elowen lay. When the shifter woke, it happened in an instant. His breath caught, his eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling before turning his head toward the bed.

“So you do sleep,” Elowen said. His voice carried the roughness of dreams.

“Occasionally,” Corvin replied.

He rose and moved to the washstand where a servant had left fresh water and a folded shirt. Corvin washed his face, changed, and glanced into the mirror. Elowen sat up slowly on the couch and pushed hair away from his eyes. The faint golden sigils on his shoulder glowed for a moment before his shirt slid to cover them.

Elowen watched him without shame or hesitation. “How often does the Sight come to you while you sleep?”

“Often enough,” Corvin said.

“Did it come last night?”

“Yes.”

Elowen waited for more information. When none came, he sighed. “You are skilled at saying only what you choose to say.”

“You have heard been to my court,” Corvin said. “If they knew how often the Sight touched me, they would never let me be, and we would never have silence.”

Elowen stood and stretched. The movement pulled at the scratch on his cheek. He touched the line lightly, then lowered his hand. “Does it ever show something pleasant?”

“Occasionally,” Corvin said. “Mostly it shows choices that can break a kingdom.”

“You look tired.”

“So do you,” Corvin replied.

Elowen smiled. “At least you did not shift twice and fight something without a soul.”

There was a knock at the chamber door. Corvin opened it to find Marla waiting. She bowed her head.

“Your Majesty, the court is assembled. The mage requests a moment before petitions begin. General Tavris also has a report.”

“I will see them after breakfast,” Corvin said.

Marla nodded and allowed her gaze to flick discreetly toward Elowen. She seemed relieved that the shifter remained upright rather than bleeding on the couch. She withdrew, and Corvin closed the door.

“You will attend court today,” Corvin told Elowen.

“Back to the stage so your nobles can stare at the dangerous fox?”

“They need to see that I am not shaken,” Corvin replied. “They also need to see that I stand by my choices.”

“You do not trust me,” Elowen said.

“I trust that you prefer to stay alive. That is enough for now.”

Elowen tilted his head. “That is not trust, that is calculation.”

“It works,” Corvin said.

He gestured toward the inner door. “Marla will prepare clothing. You will stand beside me when I enter the hall.”

“And if I decide not to appear?” Elowen asked.

“You are not here as a guest. You are here because I allow it. Do not mistake this for freedom.”

Elowen smiled. “You say that as if you would drag me through the hall yourself.”

“If I needed to, I would.”

Something in the tone sent a quiet thrill down Elowen’s spine. He met the king’s gaze for a moment longer, then inclined his head.

“Very well,” Elowen said. “I do enjoy an audience.”

By the time Corvin and Elowen entered the throne room, whispers had already taken root. Elowen felt them prickle across his skin like cold static. Shifter...Spy...Pet... He caught each word in the way people dipped their heads together, in the way fans lifted to hide expressions.

Corvin walked with him, not far ahead and not quite beside him. It was a deliberate distance, a signal to the court that his presence near the throne was not accidental.

The raven banners hung still and solemn above the hall. The throne itself rose above the dais like a carved shadow. Queen Dowager Serina stood on the left, leaning on her cane. General Tavris and Mage Theon waited near the steps.

Corvin took his seat, and Elowen positioned himself half a step behind and to the right. Instruction had not given the exact placement, yet the hall felt as if it had already expected him there.

Once Corvin settled, silence rippled outward.

“You had an eventful evening,” the king said. His voice carried without effort. “Let it remind you that the world outside this room does not remain as stable as you prefer to pretend.”

Several nobles shifted.

Corvin nodded toward Theon. “Report.”

The mage stepped forward. “Sire, the assassin carried a form of magic that was not part of his nature. Someone placed it inside him. When you ordered him captured alive, the magic killed him before we could trace it. It was old, powerful, and designed to vanish without a trail.”

“So the person behind this prefers to lose a weapon rather than reveal their identity,” Corvin said.

“Yes,” Theon confirmed.

General Tavris approached next. “The men assigned to the balcony were vetted last year. None of them has ties to known enemies. This one had debts, but nothing that suggests foreign influence.”

“All power inside this palace ties to something,” Corvin said. “Find the connection.”

Tavris bowed. “We are searching his home and questioning his family now.”

Queen Dowager Serina lifted her voice. “Perhaps you should begin with the creature who moved first.”

Elowen turned his head slightly. Her gaze cut into him with cold precision.

“You believe he is involved,” Corvin said.

“I believe chaos followed him through the gates the moment he arrived,” Serina said. “I believe Valdris has enemies, and they rarely travel alone.”

Elowen stepped forward before he could think better of it. “If I wanted the king dead, I would not have shoved him out of the path of an arrow. I would have let the assassin finish the work, or I would have done it myself.”

Serina did not blink. “Arrogance is not proof of innocence.”

Elowen smiled with deliberate sweetness. “Neither is resentment.”

Corvin’s fingers tapped once on the throne, the smallest sign that he had heard enough.

“My decision stands,” he said. “The fox remains here.”

Serina narrowed her eyes. “One day, your decisions will cost you more than sleep.”

“It is a cost I will accept,” Corvin answered.

He turned back to the gathered nobles. “Bring the first case.”

The morning unfolded in a series of grievances, property disputes. trade complaints, and old feuds between families that had never learned to let matters die. Elowen watched the room rather than the petitioners.

He watched Corvin dismantle lies with two sentences. He watched Theon murmur quiet reminders about old laws. He watched Tavris measure each noble with careful suspicion. Most of all, he watched the nobles themselves as their attention flicked toward him, often without subtlety.

A young lord named Ren approached to speak about a boundary line between his estate and another. His eyes, however, lingered more on Elowen than on Corvin.

“Your Majesty,” Ren said. “It is an honor. I see you have added an ornament to your hall.”

Corvin’s gaze hardened. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Ren smiled faintly. “I only mean that your tastes have expanded. I did not know you kept pets inside the palace.”

A quiet tremor moved through the hall.

Elowen smiled without warmth. “I saw your estate from the road. Your hunting dogs looked thin. It must be difficult to feed anything properly with such limited skill.”

The faintest ripple of laughter spread through the hall before anyone managed to hide it. Ren turned bright red.

“I did not realize the king’s pet could speak,” Ren said.

“I can,” Elowen replied. “I can also listen. Last night you called the king weak. You said he had grown too soft to rule. You also said that perhaps someone more suitable should sit on the throne.”

Ren collapsed to his knees in terror. “Your Majesty, I never said such a thing.”

Corvin studied him. “Elowen, are you lying to me?”

“No,” Elowen said.

Corvin let the moment stretch. Ren shook violently.

“I do not execute men for every foolish sentence they utter after wine,” Corvin said. “If I did, half this hall would be empty. However, I do prefer nobles who are more quiet about their fantasies of treason.”

Ren bowed so low his forehead touched the floor. “I will prove my loyalty.”

“You will,” Corvin said. “You will surrender ten percent of your revenue this year to the border troops. You will donate two horses to the army stables. And you will attend one public execution as a witness. If you ever repeat last night’s sentiment, you will be the one standing on the scaffold.”

Ren fled the hall, nearly tripping over his own cloak.

Elowen kept his expression neutral, but satisfaction curled beneath his ribs. Corvin had not defended him. Corvin had defended the authority of his own choices, and that felt far more dangerous.

Once the last case had been resolved, and the hall began to empty, Queen Dowager Serina approached the dais. Tavris and Theon stepped back enough to give space.

“You are turning him into a weapon,” Serina said to Corvin.

“He arrived as a weapon,” Corvin replied.

“A weapon you did not shape is a dangerous one to wield,” she said. “It remembers who it was made to strike.”

Elowen answered before Corvin could speak. “You are dramatic for someone who hates drama.”

Serina glared at him. “You stand there because my son gave you mercy. Do not assume he will continue to do so.”

“Then you should pray I stay useful,” Elowen said softly.

“Elowen,” Corvin said.

The single word carried enough command to still the air. Elowen obeyed without knowing why.

Serina’s eyes narrowed. She turned back to her son. “You forget your title each time you let something dangerous stand that close to you.”

She left the hall without waiting for a reply.

Elowen watched her disappear into the corridor. “She will try to have me removed.”

“She will not,” Corvin said.

“You sound certain.”

“I am. She prefers methods that cannot be traced back to her.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“It is not my role to make you feel better. It is my role to decide whether you are worth keeping alive.”

Elowen smiled slowly. “You worry about me more than you admit.”

Corvin did not deny it, but he did not confirm it either. “We are not finished.”

Elowen raised an eyebrow. “Where now?”

“To see what poison looks like when it is not thrown from a balcony,” Corvin said.

Elowen felt his pulse quicken. He followed Corvin out of the hall and into the deeper corridors of the palace, aware that every step drew him further into the king’s world and further from the mission he had sworn to complete.