Esteban was already waiting outside the Tower of the Sun when Thaddues finally emerged along with Princess Dareya.
The night air in Sunspear was still warm, but it carried a different weight now—less like heat, more like pressure. The kind that lingered after important words had been spoken in sealed rooms.
Esteban stood beside the carriage, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly impatient. The lanterns along the courtyard walls cast long, trembling shadows over the sand-colored stone.
Thaddues barely looked at the carriage.
"We won't use it," he said.
Esteban blinked. "My lord?"
Thaddeus adjusted his cloak slightly, as if the decision had already been made long before he said it aloud. "We will not take the carriage."
Esteban frowned. "Then… how will we reach the rented courtyard my Lord? On foot? At this hour?"
Thaddues's expression softened slightly, almost amused, though his patience had long worn thin. The night had already stretched too far, filled with rooms he didn't want to be in and words he no longer cared to repeat.
He turned slightly, glancing back toward Princess Dareya, who had accompanied him partway.
"Princess may I have your guards return the carriage to my courtyard?" Princess Dareya nodded once without question.
Thaddues stepped forward and placed a hand on Esteban's shoulder.
The contact was brief but it was enough.
Esteban barely had time to react before the world tightened around him.
His stomach lurched as space seemed to fold inward, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
Then the pressure vanished.
They were somewhere else.
Esteban hit the ground hard.
Stone replaced sand beneath his knees. His body folded forward instinctively as nausea overtook him. He gagged, then retched bitterly, spilling the wine he had consumed earlier onto the courtyard tiles.
The courtyard was quiet. Dark except for the faint glow of lanterns along the walls.
Thaddues stood a few steps away, entirely unaffected, as if nothing had happened at all. His posture remained straight, his cloak barely disturbed by the apparation.
Esteban tried to speak, but another wave of nausea cut him off.
"M-My lord…" he managed between breaths.
Thaddues did not even look back.
He simply walked toward the courtyard entrance.
"Soon," he said calmly. "You will get used to it."
Esteban remained on his knees, still trying to steady his breathing, while Thaddeus continued inside.
The rented courtyard was modest but well-kept—a simple residence arranged for a visiting noble. Nothing extravagant, but enough to satisfy comfort without drawing attention.
Inside Thaddues did not linger. He went straight to the bath chamber.
Hot water had already been prepared earlier in the evening by a servant from the inn, which he requested to Esteban before going to the banquet. Steam filled the room, curling along stone walls and softening the harshness of the night.
He took of his clothes and stepped into the bath slowly, letting the heat rise around him, loosening the tension coiled in his shoulders. The silence here was different from the silence of the palace. It did not feel ancient or watchful.
For the first time since leaving the Old Palace, Thaddues exhaled—not in relief, but in exhaustion finding space to settle.
Then—knock.
A voice followed from beyond the door.
"My lord."
Esteban again.
Thaddues closed his eyes.
"What is it?" he asked quietly. Using a charm to amplify his voice.
Esteban, outside, flinched slightly. It felt as though the words had been spoken directly beside his ear.
He swallowed.
"My lord… the two you hired yesterday are waiting at the inn's entrance. They arrived at dusk and have not left since."
Thaddues exhaled slowly.
Right. The mother and daughter. He had thought it would take longer for the mother to recover from her injury, so he hadn't made any arrangements for them.
He leaned back slightly in the bath, letting the heat settle deeper into his bones.
"Let them wait," he said. "If they haven't eaten, provide food and arrange rooms for them."
A pause.
Then, more quietly, "I need time."
"Yes, my lord," Esteban replied, understanding at once. He had been with the lord at the banquet and knew what had happened. It was understandable—he was exhausted to the bone.
Footsteps receded.
Silence returned.
Thaddues stared upward at the ceiling, letting the steam blur the edges of thought.
So much had happened in a single day. He swore he would never go back there again unless it was necessary.
He closed his eyes.
"I just wanted a quiet life… to be a powerful wizard," he muttered under his breath. But after this night, even he didn't believe it anymore.
He only hoped Princess Deria would keep her word.
The Old Palace of Sunspear was quiet again, but not still.
In the deepest chamber, Princess Deria Martell remained in her bed. Beside her stood two figures.
Princess Maris Martell, silent and watchful, and Prince Nolan, her grandson, seated near the edge of the bed with carefully controlled posture.
The air in the room felt different from outside. It was neither warm nor cold. It simply pressed.
"Grandmother," Prince Nolan said carefully, "is it true?"
Princess Deria's eyes were half-lidded, but not weak. The woman who had brought peace to Dorne looked at him with the same quiet attention she had once used to read councils, princes, and enemies alike.
"Is what true?" she asked.
Prince Nolan hesitated. "That you granted him equal standing. Equal to House Martell."
A faint sound left Princess Deria's throat.
Not quite a laugh.
More like memory brushing against dry humor.
"Yes," she said simply.
Silence followed.
Princess Maris shifted slightly in the background but did not interrupt.
Prince Nolan lowered his voice. "That means he carries authority in Dorne. Independent authority. If he chooses, he could challenge our decisions."
Princess Deria turned her head slightly toward him.
"And if he chooses?" she repeated.
Prince Nolan fell quiet.
Princess Deria studied him for a moment longer than comfort allowed.
Then she sighed.
"I should hang your maester for planting such fragile thoughts in your mind."
The words were not angry, but they were sharp enough that Prince Nolan straightened instinctively.
"I chose you," she continued, "because I believed you understood how power works in Dorne."
Her gaze drifted toward the necklace resting against her chest.
"The mistake most people make," she said, "is believing power must always be controlled. It does not. Sometimes it must be balanced."
Prince Nolan frowned slightly. "Balanced with a stranger?"
"Not a stranger," Princess Deria corrected. "A force."
She turned her gaze upward slightly, as though recalling the moment she had seen him.
"Lord Peverell," she said slowly, "is not like other men."
Princess Maris finally spoke, recalling a secret the elder princess had once told her
"Because the artifact did not touch him?"
Princess Deria gave a faint nod.
Prince Nolan frowned. "What does that mean?"
Princess Deria touched the necklace at her throat.
"Why do you think House Martell enjoyed peace for so many years?" she asked quietly. "Why do you think I always knew who the best ruler for House Martell was?"
Her fingers rested lightly against the turquoise necklace.
"This necklace reacts to intent," she said. "See desire. Fear. Ambition. Even hesitation."
She paused.
"But when it touched him… it found nothing to hold."
Silence settled heavily over the chamber.
For the first time, Prince Nolan understood why Princess Deria had ruled with such certainty for so long. The necklace had never merely prolonged the life of its bearer.
It judged.
Even his claim to rule was shaped by it.
Prince Nolan swallowed slowly. "Then what is he?"
Princess Deria looked at him for a long moment.
"Not someone you try to control," she said simply.
Prince Nolan's expression tightened. "That makes him dangerous."
Princess Deria shook her head faintly.
"No," she said. "It makes him free."
A silence followed. She leaned back slightly against her pillows.
"I have lived long enough to recognize such people," she said quietly. "You do not command them. You learn whether they will walk beside you willingly."
Prince Nolan frowned. "And if he becomes a threat?"
Princess Deria's answer came without hesitation.
"Then Dorne will have already failed long before that day arrives."
The room fell quiet once more.
Then Princess Deria closed her eyes briefly.
"I did not keep peace in Dorne for all these years only for fear to undo it."
Her voice softened.
"For the peace of Dorne," she said.
Prince Nolan lowered his head.
"For the peace of Dorne."
Princess Maris echoed it more quietly.
"For the peace of Dorne."
In a chamber inside the Tower of the Sun, far below the golden halls where light barely reached the stone, three men gathered in the dark.
Night pressed against the walls above.
No titles were spoken.
Only intent.
"The arrival of this wizard-noble will disrupt everything," one of them said.
A pause.
"Did he truly turn a goblet into a dragon?" another voice asked.
"I saw it," came the answer. "No charlatan. Real sorcery."
Silence settled again.
Then the third voice spoke, calm and final. "We do not move yet."
One of them leaned forward slightly. "If we wait, we lose advantage."
"If we move now, we lose everything," the third replied.
That settled it.
A faint sound of stone shifting. A hand resting on the table.
"Let Dorne believe nothing has changed," he said. "We watch. We wait."
A beat.
"And when the moment comes… even the sands will not resist us."
TBC
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