Chapter 5) Shadows Beneath the Silk
The morning crept in quietly, like a guest afraid to knock. Soft amber light spilled through the curtains of Caelum's modest room, but he lay awake already, staring at the ceiling as the silence pressed into his chest. The white coin from Selene rested on the table beside his bed, glinting faintly in the sunlight. He hadn't dared move it.
Sleep had been brief. Restless. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined cloaked figures moving through the streets, imagined voices whispering through keyholes. The note had been one thing—a distant threat. Selene's warning made it real.
Still, life outside hadn't stopped.
The village was in full breath again. Musicians tuning their strings. Guards clanking armor in morning drills. Vendors calling out for fresh bread, herbs, and firefruit jam.
But beneath it all, something was shifting.
Something subtle.
He washed his face, dressed plainly, and stepped out. The street near his house was unusually quiet. A black carriage rolled past, no crest on the side, its curtains drawn. A crow flapped from a rooftop and cawed once before vanishing into the pale blue sky.
Caelum made his way to the edge of the town square, but before he could enter the flow of bodies, someone grabbed his sleeve.
He turned, instinct tensing.
It was Maribelle.
Her hands were warm and slightly sticky—she'd clearly just come from the baker's stand. A satchel of sweets hung from her shoulder, and her cheeks were dusted pink from the morning breeze.
"There you are!" she said, catching her breath. "I've been looking for you."
Caelum's tension eased. "Is something wrong?"
"No—well, yes—but not in a dramatic way. Just… come with me."
"Where?"
"To the gardens."
"You always want to meet in gardens."
"That's because they're pretty. And they don't eavesdrop."
She didn't wait for him to argue. She simply took his hand and pulled him into the flow of the street.
---
They walked quickly, turning through alleys and side paths until the green breath of the Governor's Garden swallowed the noise behind them. Maribelle led him to a secluded bench behind a curtain of ivy. Here, the world quieted. Only birds dared speak.
She sat, smoothing her dress.
Caelum remained standing. "Maribelle—"
"Shh."
She leaned forward, her voice softer now.
"Someone's spreading rumors," she said. "About you."
His spine straightened.
"Rumors?"
"That you seduced Princess Veina."
He blinked. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. "Exactly. Apparently, you kissed her behind the ballroom the night of the banquet."
"I've barely spoken to her."
Maribelle nodded. "I know. But not everyone wants truth. Some want drama. Or leverage."
"Leverage?"
She folded her hands. "The court is not kind, Caelum. Especially not to those who rise without a name or blood. If someone can turn the princesses against each other, or twist the public's view of you, they will."
He sat beside her slowly. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want to see you ruined."
His throat tightened.
"You barely know me."
"I know enough," she said, eyes kind. "You listened to me when I spoke about gardens. You smiled when you didn't have to. You didn't treat me like royalty—you treated me like a person. That's rare."
He didn't know what to say.
She pulled something from her bag and handed it to him—a small, braided charm made of red thread and lavender stems. Simple. Elegant.
"For protection," she said. "Or luck. Or both."
He held it carefully. "Thank you."
They sat in silence for a few moments, the birds chirping above them. Then Caelum spoke.
"Do you think I should leave?"
Her face turned sharply. "No."
"But—"
"If you run, they win. Whoever's trying to push you out… they win. And the rest of us?" She hesitated. "We lose something real."
He looked at her. For once, she wasn't smiling.
"I'll be careful," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Good."
Then, just as quickly, she brightened again.
"Now. Let's talk about something lighter. Did you know Veina breeds white foxes in her spare time?"
"What?"
"Exactly. She's terrifying, but also secretly adorable. She names them after food. One is called 'Custard.'"
He couldn't help it—he laughed.
And for a moment, the fear dulled.
---
That afternoon, Caelum returned home to find another letter. This one, oddly, had a royal seal he didn't recognize—neither wrath nor pride nor sloth.
Inside, the handwriting was meticulous and sharp.
> Caelum,
You are invited to afternoon tea at the Ivory Pavilion, by request of Princess Veina of Envy.
Attendance is expected. Attire: formal.
—By order of the Court of Envy
He read the letter twice. Maribelle's words echoed in his ears.
"Apparently, you kissed her behind the ballroom…"
This was not a coincidence.
Still, he couldn't refuse. That would only make it worse.
---
The Ivory Pavilion was located on a hill above Rivelan, guarded by silver-clad knights with masks shaped like dragonflies. They let him pass with a single glance.
The pavilion itself was breathtaking—wide marble steps leading to an open-air dome surrounded by silk curtains and carved columns. The wind smelled like white jasmine and peppermint.
And in the center sat Veina.
She wore a gown of pale green, sheer at the sleeves and glittering like frost. Her hair, always a curtain of midnight black, was braided down her back in coils. Her eyes, pale emerald and sharp as broken glass, followed him as he approached.
"Sit," she said.
He did.
A servant poured tea into cups of glass so thin they looked like light.
Veina lifted hers but didn't drink. She was watching him too closely.
"There are rumors," she said plainly.
"I've heard."
"About you and me."
He met her gaze. "I didn't start them."
"I didn't think you did."
She took a slow sip.
"Then why summon me?" he asked.
"To see how you would react."
He didn't answer.
She studied him. "You didn't ask if I started them."
"Did you?"
"No."
Still, her voice gave nothing away.
Veina was beautiful—icy, regal, distant. But there was something else beneath her tone. A flicker. A crack.
"You're a threat," she said at last.
"To who?"
"To balance. To routine. To control. You've disrupted the shape of things. Princesses don't compete. They rule. Separately."
He frowned. "I didn't mean to cause tension."
"That's the problem," she murmured. "You didn't try. And still…"
She set down her cup.
"Tell me, Caelum. If you had to choose between pleasing the court or saving yourself, which would you do?"
He hesitated.
"Saving myself," he said.
She leaned back, lips curling faintly.
"Good."
He blinked. "Good?"
"I hate cowards. At least you're honest."
Then she stood.
"This meeting is over."
"That's it?"
"For now."
She turned, her silhouette framed in sunlight.
"Be careful, Caelum. Not all of us are patient with chaos."
---
Night crept in slower this time, as if reluctant to return. Caelum walked home with his mind unraveling. Maribelle's warnings. Elira's training. Selene's coin. And now Veina's sharp glances and cryptic words.
Something was happening beneath the surface. Something quiet, deliberate, dangerous.
He opened his door—and froze.
His room had been touched.
Not ransacked. Not robbed. Just… rearranged. Subtly. His chair was angled differently. His cup was on the left side of the table, not the right. His journal had been moved half an inch.
Someone had been here.
He checked the coin.
Still there.
But next to it now was a single violet petal. Dark purple. Fresh.
No note. No sound.
Just the petal.
---
That night, he didn't sleep. Instead, he sat by the candle's edge, eyes on the door, ears on the silence.
The world had turned its gaze on him.
And it wasn't blinking.