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Dark Moon Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 391. Risky
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 17:06:14 +0000 UTCThird Arc (Fallen Heart) - 391. Risky
Cley leaned against the desk. “So you’re just… letting him go?”
“No,” Angel replied. “He stays under Darius’ watch. He doesn’t get a free pass. But I’m also not giving Harmonia the satisfaction of calling me a tyrant for executing a man who sent a few observations home.”
Cley huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve changed, you know that?”
Angel cracked a small smile at that. “I hope so.”
“Back then,” Cley said, “the old you wouldn’t even wait to hear what the spy had to say. He’d be ash by now.”
Angel didn’t argue. That part was true.
The silence stretched again between them, filled only by the sound of pages fluttering slightly in the breeze and the distant footsteps in the corridor.
Cley finally spoke again, more quietly this time. “I know why you don’t trust people. I know you still wake up sometimes thinking someone’s going to stab you in the back. I mean, I’ve been with you since the start. I knew what they did to you in Asteria. What your own blood did.”
Angel’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t speak.
Cley kept going. “So yeah, I didn’t think you’d let this slide. I thought for sure we were heading for another mess. But you… You’re trying something different.”
Angel turned from the window and walked back to his desk. “You think it’s a mistake?”
“No,” Cley said after a beat. “Just risky.”
Angel picked up a different document and flipped it open, scanning it with practiced ease. “Everything worth doing is risky.”
Cley watched him for a long moment, then chuckled under his breath. “You sound like Princess Rose.”
Angel looked up again, and this time, there was the faintest flicker of warmth in his eyes. “She’s rubbing off on me.”
“Well, I guess that’s not a bad thing,” Cley said with a smirk.
The two of them shared a small, quiet moment before the mood shifted again. Angel tapped the message file with his finger.
“Have the messengers report back if any word comes from Harmonia,” he said. “I want to know the moment Jake responds to the spy’s absence—or doesn’t.”
Cley gave a half salute. “Got it.”
“And keep eyes on the rest of the delegation while they’re still here. Subtle ones. I want to know if anyone else is acting weird.”
“Already in place,” Cley said. “I had a bad feeling the moment that guy popped up. I tripled the watchers in the west wing, too. Just in case.”
Angel gave an approving nod and sat again, letting the paperwork pull his focus once more.
Cley hesitated at the door, hand on the handle. “Your Majesty?”
Angel didn’t look up. “Hm?”
“I still think it’s weird to see you this calm.”
Angel’s pen paused over the paper, then he smirked without looking away. “That’s because I’m thinking ten moves ahead, not just one.”
Cley chuckled and opened the door. “Just don’t get too peaceful. You’re starting to scare people.”
Angel didn’t reply.
As the door closed behind Cley, Angel sat alone again, the light slowly shifting as the morning advanced. He stared at the spy’s report for a moment longer, then pushed it aside and reached for a different file. His mind never stopped, not really.
There were too many eyes on him. Too many moving pieces. But maybe, just maybe, this time… he was moving first.
He muttered under his breath, almost amused, “Let’s see what kind of king you’ll be, Jake.”
And the work continued.
Angel barely noticed how much time had passed. His eyes moved across one page to the next, skimming lines of military reports, border patrols, merchant licenses, all stacked in clean piles that only he could navigate without getting a headache.
He paused only to take a sip of now-lukewarm tea, the flavor dull and bitter, but it did its job. Kept him alert.
His eyes scanned the report on the newly appointed magistrate in one of the outer towns—something about tax reallocation, a possible bribe. He jotted down a note in the margin without thinking.
