Training For War: The Bond Once Severed Book 2 (Updating)

On the Verge

The late afternoon sun cast long, slanted shadows across the marble halls of the Kingdom's palace, gilding the air with a deceptive warmth. Lukas, cloaked in a simple gray mantle, blended into the stream of courtiers, advisors, and servants that flooded the palace corridors. But while his outward appearance was plain, his mind buzzed with danger. The Kingdom had become a web of deceit, and every shadow seemed to whisper betrayal.

As he ascended the stairs to one of the landings on the residential floor, he paused at the window, letting his gaze drift toward the distant Obogor Mountains, shrouded in mist. Somewhere within those peaks lay the Vale where Raja and Natalia lived, untouched by the venomous court politics now suffocating him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to ache for their company.

But not now, he reminded himself, pushing the thought aside, not with the Queen closing in so fast. The snow would melt soon, and her armies would flood the valleys with the runoff from the mountains.

"You're out late," a voice said from behind, jolting him from his thoughts.

Lukas spun, his hand instinctively moving to the dagger beneath his cloak. But when his eyes met Theodore's, he let out a quiet breath. Theodore leaned casually against a pillar, arms crossed, a wry smile on his lips.

"I almost had you," Theodore teased, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.

Lukas forced a grin. "I was just watching the ants at work," he said, nodding toward the bustling crowd below. He tried to sound casual, but his eyes still scanned the hall behind them. He couldn't afford to relax.

Theodore's smile faded as he followed Lukas's gaze. "Watching them? Since when have you cared for courtiers scurrying about like they're important?"

Lukas shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. "Sometimes, it helps to observe who's watching you. And lately, it feels like too many eyes are on me."

Theodore's hand drifted to his stomach, where the wound from his near-death experience had once been. "Nothing good comes from watching them. They don't even fear you anymore. You've lost my father's ear, and they know it."

Lukas clenched his jaw. The silence between them spoke volumes. What Theodore left unsaid lingered in the air—the fear that Lukas himself had unleashed. Few understood that Lukas's power, not Theodore's, had slaughtered the assassins at the port. Now, the courtiers whispered of new abilities, attributing them to Theodore. Lukas exhaled, weary of the palace's stifling isolation. The endless politics and manipulation seemed trivial from his perspective. Yet Theodore was right. He had lost the King's favor. He had nearly failed to prevent Theodore's capture. And if not for Natalia and Destan's miraculous intervention, the Queen might have already won the war. Lukas could no longer claim the King's trust—nor did he deserve it.

Perhaps losing the King's favor wasn't entirely a curse. With his reduced presence at court, Lukas could move unnoticed, a shadow in the halls, quietly observing. People grew careless when they thought you no longer mattered, and Lukas had already begun to notice subtle, peculiar patterns within the palace—small but telling.

"It's probably for the best," Lukas said, facing Theodore directly. "I've had enough of your family's idiocy at those council meetings."

"Watch it," Theodore snapped, his voice cold, eyes narrowing in warning. "Reckless words could land you in even deeper trouble."

Lukas smirked but kept his silence. Theodore was right, of course. Even without the King's favor, countless eyes were still on him, lurking in the shadows, eager for him to stumble. His enemies at court would relish the chance to hand him over to the Queen—the prize she hunted with such relentless obsession. The memory of his narrow escape from Castle Miritis flashed through his mind like a bitter reminder. He could still see the bodies of her soldiers strewn across the cold stone floor, their lifeless eyes staring into the void after he'd cut them down. They had fought for and died for her, yet he knew that their loyalty meant nothing to the Queen. They were pawns—disposable, forgotten the moment their usefulness ended.