The air that morning was strange.
Not the usual scent of military boots or weapon oil.
It carried something else—something Elara couldn't quite place. It was in the way the guards stood a little stiffer, the way whispers darted down corridors like nervous birds.
Something—or someone—had arrived.
Elara was lounging in the palace garden with Mama Ojo, who was dramatically fanning herself with a giant palm frond and grumbling in Pidgin.
"Dis place too quiet," Mama Ojo muttered. "For palace wey dey full of wahala last week, now everywhere just dey do like grave."
Elara smiled faintly. "A little peace won't hurt."
"Peace dey cause wahala sometimes. Na when breeze dey blow soft, snake dey take chance crawl come house," Mama Ojo said wisely.
Elara chuckled. "You and your proverbs."
Just then, Nyla came sprinting into the garden, her face flushed with excitement.
"Elara! You won't believe who just arrived!"
"Not another surprise guest—"
"Xavier Cain."
Elara froze.
Mama Ojo stopped fanning. "Xavi-wetin?"
Nyla nodded, eyes wide. "Xavier. The Xavier. Damon's old comrade. The one who disappeared during the Redstone siege. The one they thought was dead."
Elara stood slowly. "What is he doing here?"
"Apparently he's come to assist with regional security," Nyla said, adding under her breath, "And probably to stir every pot in the palace."
---
When Elara saw him, her breath hitched.
He stood tall at the main entrance, dressed in a deep blue military coat with silver insignias. His face was ruggedly handsome—sharper than Damon's perfection, but no less arresting. A faint scar traced his left cheek like a signature from a violent past.
His smile was lazy, mocking, and utterly charming.
"Elara Dane," he said with a deep voice that rolled like thunder. "The woman who tamed the lion."
"I'm not sure I've tamed anything," Elara said coolly. "You must be Xavier Cain."
"In the flesh." He offered his hand and, when she didn't take it, tucked it smoothly into his coat. "You're every bit as stunning as the rumors say."
"And you're exactly as dramatic."
He laughed. "Touché."
Damon entered then, flanked by Ajani. His cold gaze landed on Xavier like a drawn sword.
"Still fond of making a scene, I see."
"Still fond of keeping secrets, I see," Xavier shot back with a smirk. "Imagine my surprise when I hear my old friend is engaged. And not to a cold-blooded tactician or heiress, but a former model with fire in her eyes."
Damon said nothing. But Ajani's brow arched in silent alarm.
"You're not here just for security reports, are you?" Damon asked.
Xavier's grin widened. "I'm here for many things. But perhaps most of all… for fun."
---
That night, the palace held a formal dinner to welcome Xavier.
Elara wore a crimson gown with gold accents that shimmered in candlelight. Her hair was swept back into a crown braid, revealing her graceful neck and fierce eyes.
Damon, ever the general, wore black with a blood-red sash—a symbol of leadership and command.
Xavier, however, arrived late and dramatic, dressed in white with gold buttons and a black rose pinned to his chest.
"Sorry I'm late," he said with a wink. "I had to make sure my entrance was memorable."
Mama Ojo, who had somehow secured a seat at the royal table, leaned over to Ajani and whispered, "Dis one na fine boy with big wahala. I dey smell am."
Ajani barely held in his laugh.
Xavier raised a toast. "To reunions. And the unpredictable joy of new company."
His eyes found Elara's.
Damon's fingers twitched beside his wine glass.
---
As dinner wore on, the tension grew. Xavier was charm incarnate—laughing, teasing, telling stories that made the room roar with amusement. Even Nyla seemed hypnotized.
"So there I was, surrounded by rebel soldiers, bleeding from the leg, and all I had was a spoon," he declared.
"You're lying," Nyla laughed.
"Would I lie with this face?" Xavier said, placing a hand over his heart. "It was a golden spoon, to be fair. Stolen from the enemy's kitchen. I called it diplomacy."
Elara laughed, despite herself.
Damon stood abruptly. "Dinner's over."
Everyone looked at him.
"Xavier and I have military business to discuss."
"Already?" Xavier grinned. "Don't tell me you're jealous, old friend."
"I don't have time for your games," Damon said icily.
Xavier rose. "Pity. I came to play."
---
Later that night, Elara found herself walking the quiet halls. She needed space to think.
A voice echoed behind her. "Tell me something."
She turned. Xavier leaned against the pillar, arms crossed, watching her with unreadable eyes.
"Why him?"
Elara frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Why Damon? Cold, emotionally constipated Damon?" he asked softly. "You're sunlight. He's a stone wall."
"And you think you're what?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "The moonlight?"
"I think I'd never let you stand in a shadow," Xavier said, stepping closer.
Elara's breath caught—but only for a moment.
"I've stood in enough shadows to know when one's pretending to be light," she said coldly. "Don't mistake curiosity for attraction."
Xavier's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're as clever as they say."
"And you're as dangerous."
She walked away.
And Xavier's smile faded just a little.
---
The next morning, Mama Ojo stood in Elara's room with a pot of hot pepper soup.
"I dream say breeze blow remove fowl feather," she said darkly.
"What does that even mean?" Elara asked, still waking up.
"E mean say dis new fine-boy general go scatter pot," Mama Ojo said. "I no trust am. I no trust anybody wey wear white for war."
Elara snorted. "Noted, Mama."
"You go see. Trouble don wear shoe. E go dance soon."
---
At the training grounds, Damon watched Elara spar with Nyla. Her form had improved, her strength clearer.
"She's adjusting fast," Ajani said.
Damon didn't reply.
"Worried about Xavier?"
"I don't trust him," Damon muttered. "He's a survivor. He plays both sides."
Ajani looked at him. "But you're not worried about politics, are you?"
Damon's jaw clenched.
Ajani sighed. "Sir, you may command armies. But when it comes to love—you've got competition now. And he's not just playing for fun."
Damon said nothing.
But the war he had fought outside the palace was now brewing within his own walls—and his own heart.
---