Dylan Nobleblood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The morning after the fire, Dylan stood at the suitor's door. His orders had not changed. Guard the duke's son. Never leave his side. But the sword lay hidden in his father's old house, far from here, and the royal's challenge burned in his chest. He could not hunt for proof while chained to this post. To leave meant breaking his oath. An oathbreaker could never marry a royal. The suitor swept out in fresh silk. He carried a potted orchid, its layered petals pink and gold, each bloom perfect. "The royal loves rare things," he said. "I had this brought from the southern coast. One stem is worth more than your year's pay." He smiled. "You may carry it, guard. Try not to drop my future." Dylan took the pot. The flowers trembled in his hands. He walked two steps behind the suitor toward the grand hall, under its tall columns and gold trim. The royal would wait inside. The suitor would kneel and offer his gift, and Dylan would stand against the wall and watch it happen. Then the silver-winged fox returned. It slipped between the columns, wings catching the light. The suitor saw it and went pale. "That cursed beast!" He stumbled back, knocking the orchid from Dylan's grip. The pot shattered on the marble. Soil and broken blooms spread across the entrance. The fox darted off. The suitor shook. Dylan knelt by the ruined gift. He saw his chance and seized it. "My lord," Dylan said, "your gift is destroyed. You cannot face the royal empty-handed. But the finest flowers grow where that fox nests, in the hills past the river." He kept his voice level. "Send me. I will bring back a rarer bloom than this. I know the land. I can leave tonight." The suitor wanted the royal more than he wanted a guard at his door. Greed won over caution. "Yes. Go. Bring me something that will make the court gasp." He waved a hand. "And say nothing of this mess." Dylan bowed. "You have my word." He rode out before dusk. The suitor himself had ordered his guard away. No one could call Dylan an oathbreaker now. His post was empty by command, not by betrayal. He did not ride to the hills. He turned toward his father's house and the sword waiting there. By morning the suitor would want flowers. Dylan would want something that proved his blood. But a new weight rode with him. He had promised to return with a gift. If he came back with a sword instead of a bloom, the suitor would learn he had been tricked. A liar's word meant nothing in a royal court. To win the royal, Dylan now had to find the sword, prove it was his, and do it before the suitor discovered the lie that had set him free.