The Grand Palace of Moonstone towered before us—grand, gigantic, and ageless. Its spires reached up into the bright morning sky, bathed in gauzy sunlight, as thousands of flags in royal blue and silver waved triumphantly along its parapets. The white marble walls shone, each stone a mute witness to centuries of dominion.
Leon remained at the entrance, his golden eyes tracing the receding outline of Captain Arin as the commander’s figure dissolved into the far-off horizon. He let a slow, steady breath escape. Now, he was alone—standing before the very center of Moonstone’s power.
Walking towards the palace gates, Leon went forward with subtle confidence and assurance. The old Leon had walked in these corridors earlier; pieces of memory awakened within him as he walked past each stone, leading him to the entrance.
He mounted the high stairs to the left and headed towards a door. Guards at enormous gilt-encrusted doors recognized him immediately. No hesitation. No questions. They bowed as he approached, neither too low nor too short—a greeting to his presence and rank.
Leon walked across the imposing entrance hall. Inside the palace, the air is chilly, crisp, and filled with the faint smell of incense and the perfume of rose and lily, over polished tiles that he walked upon. He glided through the palace hall with silent deliberation, as if he was familiar with every corner.
A few silent turns after, he arrived at the Grand Corridor, which led directly to the King’s magnificent study.
It seemed to stretch on forever—wide and imposing. Shiny white marble tiles covered the floor in alternating deep sapphire and white patterns. Gold-leafed columns went up toward a high, arched ceiling decorated with sky murals of former kings and heavenly beasts. On either side, high glass windows lined the corridor, their glass admitting golden morning light. Sheer curtains billowed in the wind, while at the edges, high-ranking guards in ceremonial armor stood rigidly, like statues that had come to life.
On the far end was a pair of opulent double doors—looming and elaborately ornate, etched with lunar motifs and bordered with glinting gems. Leon hesitated for a moment, breathing deep. So, this is it. my first glimpse of the actual King up close.
As someone from Earth, it felt strange—standing at the gates of true royalty. But then a faint smile tugged at his lips. Well, it won’t be long before I’m sitting on a throne too. No reason to be nervous.
He let out a soft chuckle under his breath, shook his head, and stepped forward.
And then he shook his head and moved forward a step. But before taking another step, the massive doors at the other end of the corridor creaked open slowly.
And two people he knew well stepped out into view from the open doorway.
The first—a woman of breathtaking beauty—moved forward with feline poise. Her raven-black locks glistened in the light, falling past her shoulders in silken waves. Green eyes, intelligent and piercing, surveyed the hall with controlled aplomb. A fitted green top that cinched snugly around her body drew attention to her full bosom and narrow waist. Above high-waisted, body-hugging black leather pants that accentuated her long legs and firm, defined thighs, a streamline black jacket slumped off her shoulders with all the nonchalance in the world, creating an image of easy beauty. Black leather boots clicked against the shiny marble softly with each step.
Her lips carried the smallest curve—amused smile. This was Nova, Duchess of the Nova Dukedom and the Moonstone Kingdom’s fiercest beauty. and the very one he had kissed this morning.
His new lover—and soon to be one of his wives.
By her side strode a silver-haired, middle-aged man in humble yet dignified robes of pale silver. His eyes were serene, his features gentle with age and creased with faint wrinkles that testified to quiet wisdom. This was Haran, the King’s royal messenger—famous for his calm nature, fidelity to the throne, and reputation as one of the King’s most trusted advisors.
They slowed their stride as they saw Leon drawing near.
Leon gave them a smile—careless, but unmistakably directed. To Haran, it was just a manners smile. But Nova—now learning to read the man under his manners—knew precisely what that smile implied.
It wasn’t put together—it was hungry. Just like hers.
Her lips spreading wide in a cheeky grin, silent but not unspoken. She wasn’t saying a word, but her face said all.
Haran returned a gentle smile and offered a respectful nod. "Ah, Lord Duke," he said in his usual calm voice. "You’ve arrived."
As the distance closed, Haran took a step forward and bowed with practiced grace.
"Greetings, Lord Duke," he said smoothly, his voice steady and respectful, the slight bow showing his politeness without excess.
Leon returned the gesture with a calm smile. "Greetings, Sir Haran." he replied with an acknowledging nod.
Haran raised his head, and for an instant, their eyes locked before he backed away with the practiced ease of one accustomed to ceremony.
Leon shifted his attention to Nova, meeting her gaze. She stood calmly at Haran’s side, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. A flicker of amusement set her face aglow—mischievous, knowing, and perhaps too serene. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a word, Nova lifted her hand with delicate precision.
"Good morrow, Lord Leon," she replied, her tone bright and official—purposely cool, as if the morning’s kiss had never transpired, as if they were nothing but dignitaries meeting in the palace.
Leon blinked once at surprise, his brow rising at her unanticipated action. But then he caught the almost imperceptible curve of her mouth, the quick flash of grin that gave away her intention. She was enjoying herself—laying down a line of formality only to breach it with her eyes.
Ah, so this is your game, "Adorable," Leon’s mind said, a slow smile twisting on his own mouth.
He smiled to himself, relaxing his features into a peaceful yet warm expression. Then, imitating her, he reached out for a proper handshake. "Lady Nova," he added suavely, "your loveliness appears all the more radiant each time I lay eyes on you." he joked in cover for his compliment light yet sharp.
To Haran, politely standing aside, Leon’s words were nothing more than a suave gentleman paying a respectful compliment to a lady of noble birth. The royal messenger had little idea of the stronger thread running between them.
Nova grasped it at once.
Her smile increased by only a fraction, betraying her humor. She had read the double meaning of his words. Her emerald-colored eyes flashed with mirth as she set her hand in his.
"And you, Lord Leon," she responded with equal wit, "are no less a flirt yourself... though one would have to look a bit harder to see it."
Leon laughed, really entertained—not only by her retaliating quip, but by the grace in which she played. Their palms stayed in contact for just a fraction of time too long.
As Nova started to pull back her hand, Leon stuck out—but not before sliding the tip of his finger along her palm in a secret gesture that eluded Haran’s sight. Nova’s eyes danced with surprise for a fleeting moment, but she didn’t utter a word. All she did was smile more brightly, brimming with unspoken mirth.
Leon greeted it with a tranquil smile of his own. There was a silence between them—a quiet spark of intimacy, unspoken and entirely hidden behind proper manners.
To the side, Haran noticed nothing out of the ordinary—merely a formal handshake between two high officials.
Nova’s eyes rested on Leon a beat longer, then moved to Haran. "Sir Haran, I must be off. My audience with His Majesty is already done—and I have other affairs to see to."
Haran nodded deferentially in understanding. "Of course, Lady Nova," he replied with a slight bow. "Be careful."
Nova gave a nod and a warm smile to the courtesy. "You too, Sir Haran."
Leon smiled quietly but did not utter a sound. Nova walked away—but not before shooting him a fleeting, knowing smile. It was overquickly, but bursting with unsaid promise, a look that whispered secrets still to be shared between them.
He followed her form into the distance down the hallway, the gentle swing of her walk remaining in his eyes. A quiet smile flickered on his lips.
I never thought the battle madman would turn out to be such a tease.
He shook his head, chuckling quietly, then faced Haran. "Sir Haran, may I enter now?"
Haran produced a small, polite smile. "Wait, Lord. I must report your arrival first to His Majesty."
Leon nodded in acceptance. There was no other option but the usual formality of the court.
Haran strode up to the grand double doors and rapped hard. "Your Majesty, Duke Leon Moonwalker has come for audience. Shall I bring him in?"
There was a silence. Then a voice from inside—a deep, ponderous, and most unmistakably uninterested one—said, "Bring him in after ten minutes. I’m busy with something.