The King's Guard

Chapter 63

The Academy council chamber was quiet except for the sound of rain on high windows. Torches burned low, shadows long across the stone floor.

Darius stood at the centre. His cloak was still damp from travel, boots streaked with mud. Before him sat Archon, hands folded, face unreadable.

“You’ve been gone three nights,” Archon said. “And you return with rumours.”

“They’re more than rumours,” Darius replied. “My squad intercepted a courier. Stormhaven markings. Official. And a meeting with rebels, witnessed in full view.”

Archon tilted his head. “Witnessed. But not recorded.”

“Crates, sigils, steel. Stormhaven issue.”

“Stolen, perhaps.”

“No,” Darius said firmly. “The weapons were intact. Crates marked and sealed. This wasn’t theft. It was shipment.”

Archon’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “And you want me to act on this?”

“I want you to recognise it for what it is. Stormhaven is feeding the rebellion.”

Archon leaned back in his chair, the torchlight sharp on his features. “And if I call this exaggeration? What then?”

Darius narrowed his eyes. “You’d be protecting them.”

“Or protecting us,” Archon countered. “From panic. From speculation. From cadets who see shadows in the mist.”

Kael waited outside, pacing. When the heavy door creaked, voices carried.

Darius’s tone was low, edged. “You can’t dismiss this.”

“I can dismiss what I choose,” Archon said.

Kael froze, pressing closer to the door.

Inside, Darius’s hand twitched near his belt. “You’re ignoring evidence. Why?”

Archon’s voice was cold. “Because evidence is not the same as truth. What you bring me are fragments—marks on wood, faces in fog, words you think you heard. That is not proof. It is risk.”

“Risk worth taking,” Darius snapped.

“Risk that could start a war,” Archon answered evenly.

Darius stepped closer to the table. “Then perhaps war has already begun.”

Archon finally looked up, eyes like steel. “Careful. Words like that place you on the wrong side of loyalty.”

“Loyalty to who?” Darius demanded. “The Corps? Or the throne?”

Archon stood slowly, palms flat against the table. “To order. To survival. Something you once understood before you let emotion guide your blade.”

“You mean the Queen,” Darius muttered.

Archon’s silence confirmed it.

Outside, Kael clenched his fists. He wanted to storm in, to shout, to demand. Instead he stayed still, every word carving itself into his memory.

Darius’s voice lowered. “I won’t let my recruits march blind into betrayal.”

“You don’t control that,” Archon said.

“I control what they know.”

Archon’s smile was thin. “For now.”

The room went still. Rain hammered harder on the windows.

Darius broke the silence. “I’ll take this higher if I must.”

Archon’s tone was calm, almost bored. “Then I’ll ensure the higher never hear it. I don’t mind trimming branches that grow wild.”

“You’d silence me?”

“I’d silence anyone who risks the Corps’ stability.”

Darius gave a short laugh, humourless. “Stability built on lies.”

“On necessity,” Archon corrected.

The door suddenly creaked. Kael stepped back too late. Archon’s gaze flicked toward the sound.

“Someone’s listening,” he said quietly.

The door opened. Kael stood rigid, hand still at his side.

Darius’s eyes widened briefly. “Kael—”

Archon’s voice cut like a blade. “Eavesdropping. Curious habit for a cadet.”

Kael forced himself to speak. “I was waiting. For orders.”

Archon studied him. “And how much did you hear while you waited?”

“Enough,” Kael said.

Darius snapped, “That’s enough, Archon. He’s with me.”

“Is he?” Archon murmured. “Or is he just another recruit drawn too close to flames he doesn’t understand?”

Kael met his stare. “I understand enough. Stormhaven. The rebels. It’s real.”

Archon stepped around the table, closer. “And what will you do with that knowledge? Whisper it in corners? Scribble it in your little journal?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “I’ll remember it.”

“Memory is fragile,” Archon said softly. “It bends. It breaks.”

Darius moved between them. “He’s under my command. You don’t touch him.”

Archon’s eyes lingered on Kael before returning to Darius. “Then control him. Or he’ll end the both of you.”

The tension cracked only when Archon returned to his seat, folding his hands once more.

“Leave,” he said simply.

Darius hesitated, then motioned Kael out. They left without another word.

The corridor outside smelled of wet stone. Darius walked fast, cloak brushing the floor. Kael followed, heart pounding.

Finally, Kael spoke. “He’s covering for them.”

Darius didn’t stop. “I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because he has power to. And we don’t.”

Kael’s fists clenched. “So we do nothing?”

Darius stopped at the stairwell, turning. His face was shadowed but his voice sharp. “No. We prepare. Quietly. You speak of this to no one.”

Kael’s breath shook. “Not even Reyna? Not Kyna?”

“No one,” Darius repeated. “If Archon suspects how much you know, you’ll vanish. And I won’t be able to stop it.”

Kael lowered his voice. “He threatened you.”

“He threatens everyone,” Darius said. “That’s how he stays where he is.”

“And you’ll let him?”

Darius’s eyes hardened. “I’ll wait. Because the moment will come when waiting isn’t enough. Until then—we survive.”

Later, in the dormitory, Kael sat at his bunk, journal open. His hand hovered over the page.

He wrote one line only:

> Archon knew. And he buried it.

He stared at the words until his vision blurred.

From the shadows of the hall, a voice murmured softly.

“You shouldn’t write what can be stolen.”

Kael looked up sharply. Kyna leaned against the doorframe, face unreadable.

He shut the book slowly. “And you shouldn’t be listening.”

Kyna stepped closer. “Archon isn’t safe. I’ve heard whispers for years. Questionable orders. Silent disappearances. You’re not wrong to fear him.”

Kael’s chest tightened. “You know more than you’re saying.”

Kyna hesitated, then: “Maybe. Enough to know he watches you too closely.”

“Why tell me?” Kael asked.

“Because if you fall, the rest of us fall with you.”

Her eyes met his, steady and quiet. “Watch your back, Kael. Archon won’t stop.”

She slipped away before he could answer.

Kael sat in the dim silence, Kyna’s warning echoing, Darius’s words still burning. His hand returned to the journal.

He crossed out the last line until the page tore.

Then he whispered to himself:

“I’ll remember anyway.”