Page 10 of Beyond the Treaty (The Hollow Crown Saga #1)

T he palace had become unnervingly silent over the past few days. The usual hum of life, servants whispering in the halls, the distant clatter from the kitchens, and the sharp echo of Council meetings had faded into an oppressive stillness.

When the knock came at my chamber door just after dawn, it sliced through the silence like a blade. I rose from bed, the cold morning air biting at my skin as I pulled a robe tightly around myself.

Withers, my ever-dutiful friend, stood at the door with an unusually tense expression on his face. His grey eyes darted toward the corridor behind him, as though he feared unseen watchers. In his hands, he held a single envelope, its edges worn as if it had travelled a great distance.

“M’Lady,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This arrived sometime during the night. No one saw who delivered it.”

I took the envelope, its seal unbroken and unmarked by any sigil or crest. The parchment felt coarser than the palace’s usual fine stationery, and a faint scent of smoke clung to it.

“Did anyone see anything? A messenger? A rider?” I asked.

Withers shook his head. “No, my lady. It was left in the outer hall, and the guards brought it to me.”

I nodded and murmured my thanks as he bowed and left. Once alone, I closed the door behind him and took the letter to my writing desk, my heart pounding.

The seal was rudimentary, a simple circle pressed into wax.

I hesitated, examining the uneven folds of the parchment and the faint smudge of soot along its edge.

Whatever this was, it did not appear to be official correspondence.

Breaking the seal, I unfolded the letter.

The handwriting inside was elegant but rushed, and the ink was smudged as though it had been written in haste.

It read:

Queen Elara,

The silence surrounding you is deliberate.

There are forces at work in the shadows, and you are at the heart of it all.

If you want to uncover the truth about Lord Kaelen, the bond, and the Council’s intentions, meet me in the southern gardens at midnight.

Trust no one, not even those closest to you.

-A friend.

The last line struck me like a physical blow: trust no one. Not even Bastian, my fiercest ally? Not Withers, whose loyalty has never wavered?

The stillness of the palace now felt suffocating; the weight of the letter pressed heavily in my hands. I placed it on the desk, its warning echoing: trust no one.

The southern gardens at midnight were a risk, a dangerous one. However, the Council’s secrecy, the tight-lipped delibera- tions about the bond, and the growing sense that I was being used demanded answers.

I paced the room, my thoughts swirling like a storm. If I

told Bastian, he would insist on coming with me, and Withers, despite his loyalty, might report this for my safety.

For the first time, I felt utterly alone in the choices ahead of me.

As the hours slowly passed, I steeled myself with quiet determination.

I chose simple, dark clothing to help me blend into the garden’s shadows and secured a small dagger at my waist. I had learned that misplaced trust could cost lives; this much I understood.

When midnight arrived, I quietly slipped from my chambers, tiptoeing along the familiar passages of the palace.

I avoided the main halls and weaved through servant routes and hidden staircases, my heart pounding with every shadow I passed.

The southern gardens were shrouded in darkness.

The moon’s faint glow barely illuminated the twisting vines and stone pathways.

I paused at the designated arbour, scanning the shadows.

Initially, only the rustle of leaves could be heard in the night breeze.

Then, a figure stepped out from behind a trellis, cloaked in black, with their hood drawn low.

“Queen Elara,” they spoke softly, their voice low and indis- tinct, neither distinctly male nor female.

I didn’t lower my guard. “You have me at a disadvantage,” I said sharply. “You claim to be a friend, but hide both your face and your name.”

The figure tilted their head slightly, conceding the point. “Caution is necessary for both our sakes.”

They extended a gloved hand, offering a small scroll. “This reveals the truth about Lord Kaelen and the bond the Council is eager to establish. However, reading it will place you in even greater danger than you already face.”

I didn’t take the scroll immediately. “Why are you telling me this? Why not bring it to the Council?”

The figure emitted a soft, humourless laugh. “The Council

is complicit. You, however, are at the centre of it all. Whether you realise it or not, you possess the power to thwart their plans, or ensure they succeed.”

My heart raced. “Why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be a trap.”

The figure stepped closer, their movements slow and deliber- ate, as though approaching a cornered animal. “You shouldn’t trust me. But you should trust your instincts. Do you truly believe the Council is acting in your best interest? Or are you merely a means to an end?”

Something shifted in the air between us as they spoke. The subtle warmth radiating from their presence reached me, unmistakable and achingly familiar. My breath hitched.

“Azrael,” I whispered, my hand drifting to the dagger at my side.

The figure paused, then lowered their hood. Sure enough, Azrael’s sharp features were faintly illuminated by the moon- light. His dark, tousled hair framed an interesting and dangerous face. His eyes, burning like embers, locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Elara, it’s been a moment,” he hissed, his voice smooth yet weighted.

I tightened my grip on the dagger. “Not long enough. What are you doing here? How did you get into the palace?”

Azrael smirked faintly, a secretive glint in his eyes. “Getting in was easy. Finding you? That’s always been my speciality.”

His presence was a spark in the suffocating darkness, and I could feel the fire it threatened to ignite.

“You always had a flair for the dramatic,” I said, my voice cold. “Cryptic letters, warnings to trust no one... and the scent of smoke. I should have known.”

His expression faltered momentarily, as if my words res- onated more profoundly. “I didn’t come to argue with you, Elara. I came to warn you. To assist you.”

I squinted. “Warn me? Warn me about what? Why should I trust anything you say?”

Azrael stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “Because the Council isn’t merely using you to secure peace. They’re manipulating you to control him. The bond isn’t a union, it’s a cage. For both of you. ”

The weight of his words struck me, their implications unsettling.

“I need more than your word,” I said, my voice steady despite my turmoil. “Prove it.”

Azrael’s expression darkened, yet he extended the scroll once more. “The answers are here. But you must decide, Elara: will you continue to play their pawn, or will you fight back?”

His presence lingered as he stepped away, leaving me with the scroll and the burden of the choice ahead of me.