Dark Moon Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 520. Separating The Royals III

Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 520. Separating The Royals III

The girl recovered with impressive speed. “Then perhaps this will serve as a reminder of Pontus artistry rather than warfare.”

Angel nodded once. “That is more honest.”

She bowed quickly and retreated.

Seraphine’s fan lifted to cover her smile.

So.

Angel did not take bait easily.

But the attempts continued.

A noblewoman offered him a rare cloak pin shaped like a silver moon. Another brought a carved crystal paperweight from her family mines. One woman tried to discuss poetry with him, except every poem she mentioned involved lonely kings, moonlit balconies, and devoted maidens waiting beneath towers.

Angel listened for exactly three sentences before saying, “I prefer war records.”

The woman stared.

Rose turned away again.

This time Jane definitely saw her shoulders shake once.

The entire party, beneath the laughter and polite conversation, had become a careful attempt to separate them.

Men surrounded Rose with questions about medicine, culture, textiles, and public welfare.

Women surrounded Angel with gifts, admiration, stories, and delicate laughter.

No one shoved.

They simply filled space.

A ring of silk, perfume, and ambition slowly formed between husband and wife.

Angel understood the tactic immediately.

Busy them separately.

Pull Rose into her own cluster.

Draw Angel into his.

Make them respond to different faces, different gifts, different obligations.

Create distance.

Rose understood too.

She played along at first.

She spoke with the men about medicine. Accepted comments about her reforms. Politely destroyed one viscount who suggested women were naturally more gifted in “gentle magic” because they were emotionally softer.

“I assure you,” Rose said sweetly, “my best poison instructors were men. They cried beautifully during exams.”

The viscount laughed.

Then realized she was not joking.

Angel caught that from across the tea court and almost smiled again.

But the crowd thickened.

A noblewoman stepped closer to him, holding out a cup. “This blend is softer than what you were served this morning,” she said. “Pontus breakfast tea can be harsh. I thought Your Majesty might prefer something smoother.”

Angel accepted the cup because refusing would cause more noise than drinking.

Her eyes brightened. “I pay attention. That can be useful.”

Angel looked at her calmly. “Only when paired with ability.”

Her smile cracked.

Rose, across the space, felt the shift in the atmosphere and glanced over.

Their eyes met through the moving bodies.

Just once.

Angel placed the cup down untouched.

Rose turned back to the men before her, smile returning.

A lord with silver rings on every finger leaned slightly closer to her.

He was handsome in the way court men often trained themselves to be handsome. Clean jaw. Softly curled hair. A smile that looked practiced in polished mirrors. His coat was dark blue velvet with silver embroidery, tasteful but expensive enough to scream that his family wanted everyone to know they could afford restraint.

He bowed first.

Properly.

“Queen Rose,” he said, voice smooth. “Forgive the interruption. I wondered if I might steal a few moments of your attention.”

Rose looked at him over the rim of her cup. “Stealing from a queen is a dangerous hobby.”

His smile widened, but only his mouth moved. His eyes remained focused. Too focused. “Then I will request it politely.”

Around them, the other men shifted slightly. Not leaving. Just making enough space for him to become the center of the conversation.

Rose saw it.

This was timed.

He continued, “I want to show you something that might catch your interest.”

Rose tilted her head. “Oh?”

“A small collection in the garden. Rare plants. Medicinal, mostly. My family helped sponsor some of the imports.”

The hook was clean.

Medicine. Herbs. Rare plants.

Something she would naturally be expected to care about.

He gestured toward the garden path beyond the tea court, where flowering vines crawled along white stone arches and the sunlight became dappled beneath leaves.

“Would you mind walking with me for a moment?”

There it was.

A separation attempt.

Rose smiled.

Because she understood exactly what was happening now.

They had failed to pull Angel and Rose apart through conversation alone. Gifts had failed. Compliments had failed. Subtle flirtation had failed. So now came the cleaner move.

Remove one piece from the board.