The corridors of the palace were quieter now. After the storm of the royal meeting, a strange calm had settled. Lilian had retreated to the solar adjoining her chambers, needing air, needing space — but not wanting to be alone.
The soft click of the door barely reached Lilian's ears.
She sat curled on the chaise near the window, where moonlight painted silver lines across the polished floor. A faint breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool against her flushed skin.
Her head leaned back against the velvet cushion, exhaustion pulling at her bones. She barely noticed when the tall figure entered — no fanfare, no guards announcing his name.
But the presence was unmistakable.
Prince Asher.
For a moment, he said nothing — only stepped quietly to the far edge of the room. There, he chose a simple chair — not near enough to intrude, not so far as to seem distant.
Only then did Lilian glance over, startled to find him already seated.
"I didn't expect visitors," she murmured, her voice raw from the strain of the day.
Asher inclined his head slightly. "I won't stay long."
A pause. The silence felt oddly soft between them.
Lilian smiled faintly — the first real smile in hours. "Then… since you are here — may I thank you?"
She straightened a little, her hands smoothing the folds of her gown.
"You stopped a war today. You saved me from ruin. That… that is not something I can easily forget."
Her gaze found his — steady, clear.
"Truly, thank you, Prince Asher."
Asher leaned back, one arm draped lazily over the chair. His expression barely shifted — only the faintest shadow of amusement touched his mouth.
"I did not do it for your gratitude."
"So you've said," Lilian replied, voice lighter now, a small laugh slipping through. "But… forgive me. I am tired, my head is full of questions."
She tucked her feet beneath her, as if settling in to speak with an old friend — her body unwinding, her heart dropping its guard.
"You could have let them ruin me. Let the scandal take its course. Why intervene? Why… claim me? Why offer marriage?"
She tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity now, almost playful.
"I don't understand you, Asher."
For a moment, the Prince said nothing. He gazed toward the window where the moonlight spilled across the floor, as if weighing his words.
Then — a breath. A small sound — not quite a laugh.
"Perhaps it is better you don't," he said at last, voice soft but edged with something darker.
Her smile faltered. "But I would like to."
He turned his gaze fully on her now — cool, sharp, unsettling.
"Very well."
He rose slowly, his movements fluid as water. Crossing the space between them, he came to stand near her — not too close, not threatening, but close enough that the air seemed thinner.
"You ask why I helped you."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Because in this game, Princess, you were a piece about to be discarded."
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"And I — I saw an opportunity. A pawn can become a queen, if moved well enough."
Lilian's heart gave a soft jolt.
"So I'm just… a pawn to you?"
"For now? A partner. An ally. And yes — a piece in the game."
He bent slightly, voice lowering, eyes glittering with intent.
For a heartbeat, Asher said nothing. Then his gaze flicked towards her–not cold, not kind, but deep, knowing. The hint of a smile ghosted his lips, one that made the air between them feel thinner somehow.
He lifted his glass with deliberate ease, as though toasting some unspoken truth.
And drank.
No denial. No confirmation.
The silence said more than words ever could.
Asher set the empty glass aside, rising smoothly to his feet.
Lilian felt a flicker of unease as the distance between them shifted again — no longer an ally sitting beside her, but a figure towering in the dimming light.
For a heartbeat, he stood there, watching her with that calm, unfathomable gaze.
Then, in a voice softer than before — a thread of something dangerous beneath velvet — he spoke:
"Sleep well Princess."
And then he was gone — cloak trailing like a shadow, the door clicking shut behind him with chilling finality.
Lilian exhaled slowly, not realizing she'd been holding her breath.
Her fingers toyed with the folds of her gown — a restless, thoughtful motion.
She wasn't naive.
Not about power. Not about men like Asher.
But even so… something about the way he'd looked at her — not like a victim, not like a prize, but like an equal, a weapon yet to be drawn — sent a strange thrill through her blood.
A partner, he had said.
Yet in what game?
The moonlight deepened outside the window.
War had been avoided — for now.
But in the shadows of Elarion's gilded halls, the real game had only just begun.