the timid bride

**Chapter 38 – A Blade in the Garden**

Zara woke before dawn.

The room was still dark, but her chest felt tight — like something was wrong. Off. Out of place.

She slipped out of bed and moved to the balcony, drawing the curtain aside. The palace gardens stretched below, silvered with mist. Peaceful. Quiet.

Too quiet.

A soft knock made her flinch.

She turned — just as Kael stepped into the room. He wore no armor today, only a deep red tunic and black trousers. His hair was damp, as if he'd come straight from a training session.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice low.

She shook her head.

Kael looked past her to the garden.

"You felt it, didn't you?"

Zara frowned. "Felt what?"

He stepped beside her. "The shift."

Something flickered in his eyes — something he wasn't saying.

"Come," he said. "There's something I want to show you."

—

They walked the garden paths in silence.

The guards trailed them at a distance, barely visible among the trees.

Zara's fingers brushed the edge of her sleeve, where she'd hidden a small dagger Kael gave her days ago.

*Just in case,* he'd said. *You're not defenseless anymore.*

She hadn't needed it yet.

Until now.

Kael stopped beneath a flowering archway. The petals were pale pink — fragile-looking, but laced with thorns.

He turned to her. "This is where I grew up."

Zara blinked. "The garden?"

"This spot. My mother planted these flowers before she died. She used to bring me here when court became too loud."

Zara's chest tightened. She'd never heard him speak about his mother before.

"She was strong," he added. "Gentle, but deadly when she needed to be."

"She sounds like you," Zara said softly.

Kael looked at her then — really looked.

"I want you to understand something," he said. "Being my wife means you'll always be watched. Always targeted. Not because they hate you… but because they fear what you'll become if you survive this place."

Zara stepped closer. "And what do you think I'll become?"

Kael reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

"Something dangerous," he whispered. "Something mine."

Before she could respond, a scream shattered the morning air.

They both turned.

A guard stumbled from the far end of the garden — clutching his side. Blood seeped through his uniform. His eyes locked on Kael.

"Assassin," he gasped. "Disguised… in the staff…"

Then he collapsed.

Chaos erupted.

Kael shoved Zara behind him as more guards sprinted toward them. Steel clanged. Shouts filled the air.

Zara's breath came in short gasps. Her hand gripped the dagger at her hip.

Then—

A blur of black darted from the hedges.

Straight toward her.

Zara ducked just as the blade swiped past her face. The assassin moved fast — too fast — already spinning for another strike.

Kael was faster.

His sword was in his hand before the man reached her. One blow. Clean. Lethal.

The assassin fell at Zara's feet.

She stared down at the body, heart pounding, ears ringing.

Blood soaked into the garden soil.

Kael turned to her, face grim.

"Are you hurt?"

Zara shook her head. "I… I'm fine."

His eyes swept over her quickly, hands brushing over her arms and waist, checking for wounds. When he was sure she was uninjured, he pulled her into him.

And held her.

Tight.

Possessive.

Real.

"I should've kept you closer," he murmured.

Zara's hands clutched his shirt. "You couldn't have known."

"I'm the prince," he growled. "Knowing is my job."

Then he pulled back — just enough to cup her face in his hands.

His eyes burned into hers.

"You're not going back to that room. From now on, you sleep beside me."

Zara blinked. "Kael—"

"I'm done pretending to be distant," he said. "You wear my crest. You sleep in my halls. But they still think you're alone."

He leaned in, voice a whisper against her lips.

"Let them see who you belong to."

Then he kissed her.

Not soft.

Not careful.

Like a storm claiming its eye.

And Zara — shaken, breathless — kissed him back.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't polite.

It was everything they hadn't said aloud since the night she stepped into this palace.

Kael pulled away just barely, resting his forehead against hers.

"You are mine," he said. "And I will burn this entire kingdom to protect you."

Zara's breath hitched.

And for once… she believed him.

—

By noon, the court was in uproar.

The assassin had been a former palace scribe — dismissed weeks ago, but never properly banished.

Kael's fury echoed through the stone halls. Orders flew. Investigations launched. Half the guard was reassigned.

But Zara… was silent.

She stayed in Kael's room, wrapped in the velvet of his chambers, listening to the chaos he controlled like a conductor.

Later that day, Kael returned.

He didn't say much.

Just reached for her.

Held her.

And for the first time — she didn't resist.

—

That night, Kael didn't return to court.

He sat beside her in the quiet, still wearing the tunic stained from the assassin's blood.

His hand never left hers.

Zara watched him from the corner of her eye. He looked like a man on the edge — not from fear, but from restraint. Controlled fury. Protective instinct.

"Do you regret it?" she asked softly.

"Regret what?"

"Killing him."

Kael turned to her. "No. I regret that he got that close to you."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Zara whispered, "I'm scared."

He didn't try to deny her fear. He didn't tell her to be brave.

He just pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and said, "Good. Be scared. Then use it to survive."

She buried her face in his shoulder, letting herself breathe him in — leather, sweat, and something warm. Safe.

And for the first time since entering the palace, Zara didn't feel alone.

She felt chosen.