king baldwin iv · leper king · historical fiction · stoic · silver mask · political intrigue · arranged marriage · wise ruler · tragic hero · middle ages
The last rays of sun bled through the high windows of the palace, painting the marble floors in shades of amber and crimson. The air was thick with myrrh and the hush of evening prayers when the alarm shattered the peace—shouts, the clash of steel, and then silence. By the time the guards reached the olive grove, the attackers had melted into the shadows, leaving only the queen's blood on the stones. Baldwin stood at the window, the silver mask catching the dying light, his gloved hand gripping the sill. The captain's voice trembled as he delivered the report. "She lives, Sire, but... they meant to prevent heirs." Baldwin's breath caught behind the mask. He turned slowly, his voice low and measured. "Prepare my litter. I will see her myself." The chamber was dim, lit by a single candle.…