Chapter 227

Chapter 227: Chapter 227

Calix

The afternoon sun sat low over the western peaks, casting long, pale shadows across the stone floorboards of the private conservatory.

I pulled open the quiet glass door, stepping into the warm, humid air of the greenhouse. It smelled of damp soil and green leaves, a peaceful contrast to the loud, suffocating politics dominating the main hall. Standing near the glass wall, looking out over the misty valley, was Lysander.

He wore a thick wool shawl draped over his shoulders, his hands resting over his rounded waist in a quiet,protective gesture. He looked fragile, pale skin, dark shadows beneath his eyes, and a posture weighed down by weeks of unspoken grief.

He was a man broken by the world around him, yet holding on to the life in his core with everything he had left.

"It is a lovely view of the valley from here," I remarked softly, keeping my steps slow and light.

Lysander froze. He turned his head, his dark eyes narrowing into razor-thin slits as he looked at me. There was no mistaking the instant, sharp caution in his posture as he pulled the shawl tighter around his frame.

"You shouldn’t be in this wing," Lysander said, his voice flat, hoarse, and dry. "Drake strictly forbidden outside visitors here."

"I am aware," I replied, holding up the silver keycard Commander Valen had granted me for the south gardens before slipping it back into my grey jacket. "Though I think we both know I came here on purpose."

He pushed himself up from the wooden bench, every muscle in his body tense. "If you came here to gloat about your position at court—"

"I came here because I am not a fool, Lysander," I interrupted gently, stopping well short of his space. I leaned lightly against the stone display table nearby, watching the way he instinctively shielded his lower middle. "I have spent two weeks at Drake’s side. I sit beside him at formal dinners, I walk with him through the council grounds, and I listen to the elders praise our upcoming union."

I let out a low, quiet breath, offering him a candid, sad smile.

"And in all those two weeks," I continued, "Drake has not looked at me once. Not really. When he speaks to me, his voice is polite, correct, and utterly dead. When I brush against his hand, he pulls back as if my skin burns him. His body is at the head of the council table, but his heart, his mind, and his soul are locked in this wing with you."

Lysander stared at me, his jaw tight, his breath catching in his throat. "The whole court thinks he is replacing me. The servants say he chose you to stabilize the territory."

"He chose me because I was safe," I corrected smoothly. "Because I promised him a quiet, uncomplicated partnership. But a man cannot build a life with a shadow when he is already consumed by a fire. Last night, I saw him leave his private study long after midnight. He didn’t return to his own quarters. He came straight here, didn’t he?"

Lysander didn’t answer. He turned his face toward the window, his knuckles white against the fabric of his shawl. His silence was all the proof I needed.

"I did not come to this estate to be a pawn in a tragedy," I said softly. "When I accepted my family’s proposal, I was told you were a traitor who tried to destroy the house from within. I was told you willingly conspired with Gideon at the gala."

I looked directly into his eyes, letting him see the quiet, analytical focus in mine.

"But a traitor does not sit alone in a glass room with tear-stained eyes, holding his child as if the world is ending," I noted. "And a leader as sharp as Drake does not sneak into a traitor’s bed every night if he truly believes you sold him out."

"Someone trapped me," Lysander whispered, the words spilling out raw and broken. "I never left my room that night. The doors were locked from the outside. I don’t know what Drake saw in that parlor, but it wasn’t me."

I stayed quiet, processing the genuine, breathless pain in his face. It matched the inconsistencies I had been tracking in the court records since I arrived.

"The gala security logs were wiped three hours after the incident," I murmured, my mind piecing together the timeline. "Commander Valen told the elders it was due to system damage from the fight, but my family’s tech specialists know the main server was accessed manually from inside the residence."

Lysander’s head snapped toward me, his dark eyes wide with shock. "What?"

"If someone used an illusion in that parlor, they needed access to the internal security grid to hide their tracks," I explained. "Gideon could not have done that from the outside. He needed a partner inside these walls.Someone with high clearance who knows every blind spot in the estate."

"Julian," Lysander breathed, the name dropping like poison into the quiet air. "Julian is still here. Drake keeps him in the subterranean cell because—"

He clamped his teeth shut, abruptly cutting himself off, his posture going rigid with sudden panic.

I watched his sudden silence, noting the unspoken secret lingering behind his eyes. I didn’t push him to finish the thought. I didn’t need to. The pieces were already falling into place.

"Julian has been remarkably quiet since his arrest," I observed softly, straightening up from the stone table and turning toward the glass door. "Yet his former personal aide still works in the lower communications room. I think it is time I paid closer attention to who comes and goes from the east wing corridors."

Lysander looked at me in total disbelief. "Why are you telling me this? If you prove I am innocent, you lose your place as consort. You lose the trade pact for your family."

I stopped at the threshold, looking back at him over my shoulder.

"My family wants security, Lysander, but I value my dignity," I said, my voice calm, clear, and unyielding. "I have no desire to stand at the altar with a man who is tearing himself apart from the inside out. If there is a serpent in this house, I would rather crush it than sit on a throne built on lies."

I pulled open the door and stepped out into the cool mountain breeze, leaving the former consort alone in the greenhouse as I set my sight on the lower archives.