Chapter 2: A Glance That Lingers

The corridor was colder than usual. Drafts slipped though the stone walls like whispers, brushing against the torches that lined the path. Malach walked alone now, the echo of his boots tapping a rhythm that didn’t match the beat of his heart. Wrapped in clean linen a lighter cloak, he passed servants who bowed, but he didn’t return their gestures. His mind wasn’t in the palace.

It was with her.

He hadn’t expected her voice to follow him after she left. But it did. Every word she spoke had carved itself into his memory — sharp, effortless, like the brush of steel against skin.

He slowed near a side passage leading toward the inner gardens — a quiet place, far from the noise of war councils and royal drama. He needed air. Space. Silence.

But when he turned the corner, she was already there.

Eliana knelt beneath a twisted almond tree, sleeves rolled past her elbows, tending to a cluster of herbs that grew along the shaded wall. The light filtering though the leaves scattered patterns across her face. She didn’t see him at first.

He didn’t speak.

– Eliana — You again.

Eliana (without looking up)

He blinked, a little caught off guard.

– Malach — I didn’t mean to intrude.

– Eliana — You didn’t.

Eliana (plucking a leaf and tucking it into a cloth satchel)

– Eliana — The palace just happens to belong to twenty other people today, apparently.

He moves a little closer, stopping a few away. The scent of crushed mint and soil filled the soace between them.

– Malach — You talk to everyone like that?

– Eliana — Only the ones who bleed on my table and then vanish without saying thank you.

Eliana (finally meeting his eyes)

A pause. He lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost.

– Malach — Then… thank you.

She stood, brushing dirt from her hands.

– Eliana — That sounded painful for you.

– Malach — I’m not used to needing help.

– Eliana — No one is. But that doesn’t mean they don’t need it.

They stood there, watching each other longer than necessary. The distance between them seemed smaller now. Tighter.

He cleared his throat.

– Malach — Why does the prince summon you so often?

She blinked at the sudden shift, her expresión changing.

– Eliana — Medical reasons. I’m the court healer.

– Malach — Is that all?

There it was — the silence again.

Eliana’s gaze drifted away. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small sprig of thyme, twirling it between her fingers.

– Eliana — You’ve been gone from the palace for a long time, Malach. Things shift. People shift.

– Malach — I didn’t tell you my name, didn’t I?

Malach (he looks at her confused)

– Eliana — As a healer, I know everything.

He looked at her, something sharp behind his eyes.

– Malach — Are you in danger?

She smiled. Not the kind that I meant happiness — the kind that meant. You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.

– Eliana — Aren’t we all?

Before he could answer, voices approached — sharp, familiar.

– Ezra — There you are!

Ezra (appearing from the garden arch)

– Ezra — I’ve been looking for you. The king request your presence. Urgently.

Malach’s shoulders tensed. He nodded once to Eliana, who was already turning back to her herbs, as if she hadn’t just disarmed a knight with nothing but her presence.

As Ezra and Malach walked off, the steward passed from the opposite hallway, head bowed, robes swaying.

– Steward — That healer girl is too bold for her own good.

Steaward (murmuring low under his breath)

Malach stopped in his tracks, eyes flicking toward the man.

– Malach — Bolneaa isn’t a crime.

Malach (his voice ice)

The steward flinched, mumbled something about apologies, and kept walking.

Ezra leaned in slightly as they continued.

– Ezra —You’ve only been back two days. I didn’t expect you to… care.

– Malach — I don’t.

But Ezra raised and eyebrow and said nothing, because they both knew it was a lie.

INSIDE THE THRONES ROOM

The room was as it always had been — cavernous, cold, and glowing with stained glass light. King Adonias sat tall in his gilded chair, his silver beard trimmed sharply. Besides him, Queen Salome wore a distant expression, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

But it was Prince Alaric, learning against the far column with a wine glass in hand, who spoke first.

– Prince Alaric — Our silent knight returns. I trust your wounds have not made you forget how to kneel.

Malach dropped to one knee, expression unreadable.

– Malach — I love to serve.

– Prince Alaric — So modest. You’ll make a fine tale in some bard’s song.

Prince Alaric (waving a hand mockery)

– King Adonias — Rise, Sir Malach. I have need of your judment.

Malach stood slowly.

– King Adonias — A foreign emissary arrives tonight. From the north. We suspect betrayal. You will oversee his arrival. Ensuring nothing happens to the royal family.

– Malach — I understand.

– King Adonias — Good. Because I’ve lost enough men this season.

Alaric chuckled under his breath. The queen said nothing, her eyes flicking briefly to Malach and then away again.

As Malach turned to leave, the prince’s voice followed him.

– Prince Alaric — And so stay out of the healer’s gardens, won’t you? Not every wound deserves to be coddled.

Malach’s jaw tightened.

– Malach — Not every heir deserves him throne.

Malach (muttering just low enough that only Ezra heard)

They left the room in silence.

BACK IN THE EAST WING

Eliana stood at her small table, crushing herbs into powder. Her hands moved automatically, but her mind was far from the slave in front of her. He fingers had trounced him — his skin, his wound, his silence. And it lingered on her smoke.

She had been warned once.

“Do not speak too long with those who serve the table”

But the way he had looked at her… it wasn’t just a soldier’s glance. It was something she recognized, something she feared.

Because if she looked too long back, she might forget who she was… and why she was never meant to be someone’s sanctuary.

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