The Princess' Harem
Chapter 69: Fractured Trust

Chapter 69: Fractured Trust

The hunter’s lodge stood at the edge of the forest near the port town, its ivy-covered walls sagging under years of wear. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood, old leather, and the faint char of distant caravan fires.

The glow from the single hearth flickered, casting jagged shadows across the worn benches where ten captives—Cooper, the old woman, and others—huddled, their faces showing exhaustion and fear.

Reyes’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and laced with betrayal. "Why are you the only one guarding the princess?"

He stood in the doorway, his short brown hair catching the firelight, his intense brown eyes locked onto Joel with anger and hurt. The Royal Guard insignia of the Crown Princess gleamed on his dark leather cloak, identical to Joel’s, but his posture was rigid with defiance.

Viana’s chest tightened. She had miscalculated. Reyes wasn’t just a guard, he was vital to her plans, someone she needed to rely on.

But his disappointment, edged with jealousy, was something she hadn’t anticipated. She stepped forward, keeping her voice firm.

"Reyes, I chose Joel because he has experience with missions like this. His mercenaries gave us the advantage we needed."

It wasn’t the full truth, but keeping Reyes out had been a risk, and his frustration was the price.

Reyes clenched his jaw, his glare shifting to Joel. "Royal Guards take the same oath, Princess," he said, his voice bitter. "I’ve bled for Elysia just like him. Or does my blade not cut deep enough for you?"

Joel’s brown eyes narrowed, his voice steady, protective. "She made the call, Reyes. If you want to argue about loyalty, do it when we’re not dodging Clan blades."

He stepped closer to Viana, a shield between her and the rising tension. The air between the men crackled with unspoken words.

Viana raised a hand. "Enough. Elysia is at stake, and I need you both."

Her voice softened slightly, pulling Reyes back in. "Arin’s army is in the Blackford Mountains, near the northern border. Stand with me, and we’ll stop him."

She held his gaze, willing him to see the trust she placed in him.

Reyes exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing, though the hurt lingered in his eyes. "Fine, Princess," he said, his voice quieter but firm. "I’m here. But don’t push me aside again."

Joel’s hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to speak, but he turned to Viana instead, his expression softer. "We’re with you. What’s the plan?"

Before she could answer, Torren, the grizzled mercenary leader, shifted near the hearth, checking his swords. His scarred face was tense.

"The Clan is still out there," he muttered, his men exchanging glances. "My scouts saw movement an hour ago, north of the trail. They’re tracking us."

Viana’s stomach tightened. She moved to the cracked window, staring into the forest, where the scent of pine mixed with the salt air from the port town.

"Arin knows I’m here," she murmured. "If we find his fortress, we cut him off."

Joel stepped beside her, his shoulder brushing hers, grounding her against the night’s chill. "Then we head to Elysia’s palace, rally the council, and gather troops."

His eyes held hers, fierce and unwavering. "But we need more than my men to take a fortress. Torren’s runners are digging into Arin’s numbers now."

Torren tossed a dagger onto the table, its eagle emblem gleaming. "Found this on a scout last week. Markings suggest Blackford is housing at least five thousand, maybe more. They’re drilling, not just hiding. My men are checking caravan routes for supply lines—it will tell us if they’re aiming for Elysia or Valendale."

Viana’s resolve hardened. She couldn’t afford mistakes. "Good. Keep your runners on it. We need to know their target and when they’ll move."

She turned to the captives, kneeling beside Cooper. His wide eyes reflected the firelight. "You’re safe now," she said, handing him a waterskin. "Did you hear anything else about the Clan?"

Cooper swallowed, his voice small. "The man with the ring said... spring. They’re waiting for spring, when the passes open."

His words confirmed what Torren’s scouts suspected.

Viana squeezed his shoulder. The old woman beside him nodded grimly. "They spoke of Elysia," she added, her voice hoarse. "The prince wants the crown."

A shout from outside shattered the moment. "Clan scouts! North side! Three, moving fast!"

Torren grabbed his sword, his men reaching for crossbows. The captives shrank back, Cooper clinging to the old woman.

Joel and Reyes flanked Viana as they rushed to the lodge’s door. Outside, the forest loomed, its shadows twisting under the moonlight. Torren’s perimeter scouts readied their weapons.

Three Clan scouts emerged, their cloaks blending with the darkness. Torren’s men fired, a bolt piercing one scout’s shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Joel tackled another, his blade flashing. Reyes moved swiftly, disarming the third with precise strikes, his anger fueling his speed. His eyes flicked to Viana, seeking approval.

Viana knelt beside Joel’s captive, pressing her dagger to the scout’s throat. "Arin’s fortress—where in Blackford? How many men?" Her voice was cold.

The scout sneered, blood dripping from his lip. "Blackford is untouchable, princess. Five thousand, maybe six, and growing. You’re marked for His Highness."

His defiance was short-lived. He gurgled suddenly, biting his own tongue, his body falling limp.

Viana straightened, her breath uneven. "He’s dead, not talking. We’re clear for now."

Joel moved beside her, his brown eyes searching hers, a silent question—_Are you alright?_

She nodded, though her thoughts raced. "They’re closer than I thought. We move at dawn. The council must act."

Reyes sheathed his sword, stepping closer. "I’m with you, Princess. But we do this as a team. No more lone wolves."

His gaze lingered, the resentment giving way to something more solid.

Viana glanced between her guards, then spoke. "Together, then."

Torren approached, holding a satchel. Its contents spilled out—maps, caravan tallies, and a rough sketch of Blackford’s peaks.

"This confirms it," he said. "They’re preparing for Elysia, spring at the earliest. My men will keep digging—numbers, supply lines, maybe even Arin’s next move."

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