One Less Problem
Leon’s tone never wavered. "Another ti, Duke Edric. I have a eting to go to."
There—a slight twitch at the corner of Edric’s mouth. Almost imperceptible. A crack in his flawlessly chiseled mask. But it was gone as fast as it appeared.
"My apologies if I overstepped," Edric replied with smooth ease. Still, Leon caught it—the slightest change in tone. Sothing unspoken underneath the words.
Leon narrowed his gaze. What was Edric up to? Why now, of all monts, when Nova was expecting him?
He should have left. And yet the understated shift in Edric’s tone, the gravity behind his tone, kept him rooted.
Leon leaned forward. "What is it, Edric?"
He tried to go, to turn away. But Edric stepped closer, tone falling to a deeper, more somber level.
But, before you leave," he told him softly, "there is one thing. I need your assistance."
Leon’s face turned cold. "Assistance?
Edric nodded very slightly, his hands folded neatly together in front of him. "You’ve heard the scouts. The Vellore army is gearing up to move east. If they commit, they’ll march straight through the Starlight Duchy. It’s our weakest front. If their push is fast and heavy, I can’t guarantee the duchy will hold. And I can’t guarantee. my daughter, Mia, will be safe."
At the sound of her na, sothing in Leon froze. His thoughts paused, stuck on the syllables.
"Mia?" he said, his voice lower now. The na ca off his lips as if it bore weight he had not anticipated.
Edric’s stoic mask wavered. The icy reserve he was famous for appeared to slip, showing—if only for a fleeting mont—a more human look. Not sly. Not manipulated. But unsure. Worried.
"If the wall breaks, she’ll be the first to suffer," Edric admitted, eyes dropping briefly. "She’s never asked for the life we’ve dragged her into. Whatever mistakes I’ve made... she didn’t deserve to be caught in them."
Leon did not break in. He listened in silence, not only to the words, but to the tone. There was sothing different about Edric’s tone—less that of a duke, more of a father. Or soone attempting to recall how to be one.
"Silver City is south of us," Edric went on. "Off the invasion route. It will be safer. If you brought her with you... just long enough for this storm to blow by... she’d be safely beyond the worst of the danger. The Royal Army won’t arrive in ti if the front collapses. You know what that implies."
Leon’s eyes grew darker, but he refused to answer. The discussion was no longer rely war tactics. There was sothing else running through Edric’s request, sothing that was quieter but much more sinister.
"I’m asking you," Edric told him, and for the first ti his words were not smooth, "to put her under your protection. She trusts you. More than anyone. You could protect her. She’s... my daughter, Leon. Whether she hates or not, that’s true."
A sigh drifted between them, thick with unspoken things. Edric’s last words shook with silent regret, more bitter than he probably ant them to be. The pride in his stance never faltered, but the hurt beneath it was evident.
Behind Leon, one of his guards subtly shifted, feeling the tension in the room. But Leon did not shift. His eyes stayed fixed on the man in front of him, though his thoughts were a thousand miles away beyond the walls of the room.
He recalled the way Edric had always kept Mia distant. At every party, every court event, she was there—visible, but never a player. A lost piece of an unfinished puzzle Edric never bothered to complete. And now, when the war ca knocking on their doors, he suddenly recalled she was alive?
Leon’s instincts tingled. This was not fatherly love—it was sothing different. A calculation. A move on the board.
Why now? Why her?
The reply ca too easily.
Mia was sweet-natured, considerate. But in a political world, that made her brittle—and inconvenient. And in Edric’s world, anything that wouldn’t be useful was best gotten rid of before it caused an issue.
But even being aware of it, Leon sensed a different heaviness in his chest. Mia cared for him—care that she never worked up the courage to say, but never hid either. He had watched it in her looks, in how her voice softened when she said his na. He never led her on, not exactly. But he also never repelled her.
Maybe Edric considered her a weakness.
Leon did not.
He saw an opportunity—not only to guard Mia, but to liberate her from the darkness Edric’s drive had cast upon her. If she went with him, she would be safe. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could have a chance to talk freely of the things that had long been left unspoken. Of what future there might be... if one was to be found.
A future in which she was not only protected from war, but observed. Appreciated. Loved.
Leon’s voice, when it arrived, was smooth but inflexible.
"Very well," he said. "I will bring her with ."
Opposite him, Edric’s lips smiled—a little too soon, a little too easily. It was the sort of smile that never touched the eyes. He gave a bow, graceful and superficial, rehearsed to the point of emptiness.
You have my sincerest gratitude, Duke Leon. You’re indeed noble."
Leon did not deign to answer the flattery.
"I’ll see she’s taken care of. You have no need to fear."
His words were devoid of warmth, but hard as steel wrapped in velvet. A vow. A silent threat.
Edric lowered himself into another bow, deeper this ti, voice full of what could be mistaken for gratitude. "Thanks, Duke Leon. I’m sure you’ll protect her."
Leon nodded fractionally, already in motion. "I should take my leave. I have matters to see to."
"Of course," said Edric, always smooth, like oil on glass.
There was no goodbye from Leon. Only a quick, final look as he said, "Good day, Duke."
Edric pulled himself upright and responded with forced good humor, "And to you, Duke Leon."
With that, Leon departed, his boots making no sound on the marble floor. He slipped into a side hallway, one less populated, one that would see him to Nova’s mansion. He did not care for being noticed. Let no one ask where he had gone or why. Discretion was power, and tonight, he required both.
Behind him, Edric stood still, stance loose—too loose. As Leon vanished down the next corridor, the duke’s smile did not survive. The warmth dissipated from his face, to be replaced by a hard, cold mask.
His gaze stayed fixed on the vacant space where Leon had disappeared.
Then ca the whisper, slow and bitter, hardly more than a breath.
"Now... with her gone... one problem less."
He spun and departed, his boots ringing in rhythmic echoes against the soundless marble floor.
The ga had shifted.
And the pieces were already moving.
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