The message lay on her desk for hours before she dared touch it again . The ink had dried dark , almost brown as if written not with pigment but with blood .
The truth has a price .
Elira read it once before she folded it into her satchel . Whoever sent it wanted her afraid .
Instead , it made her curious .
She had lived her life by memory — truth catalogued , recorded , preserved . But this felt different . This truth was alive , moving beneath the surface of the realm like a buried current .
She needed answers .
The archives were near — deserted that morning , the air heavy with dust and candle smoke . She descended the spiral stair into the sub — archives , where old war records and family oaths were kept .
No one came here anymore . No one but the Archscribe .
" Child ," Thalin said without looking up as she entered . " You are early , even for suspicion ."
Elira managed a faint smile . " You always did say curiosity was the sharper sin ."
He glanced at her then , eyes sharp beneath the hood of his scholar is cowl . " And yet it keeps the world from rotting . What brings you to the depths ?"
She placed the folded message before him . " This ."
Thalin studied it briefly , expression unreadable . " You have made enemies faster than I predicted ."
" Who wrote it ?"
He exhaled , slow . That I cannot tell . But the ink … see the granules ?
That is no merchant is pigment . It is distilled from fire not — ritual grade . " Forbidden since the purge of the old temples ."
Elira frowned . " You mean — ?"
He nodded once . " Someone wants you to remember what this Kingdom has chosen to forget ."
The words chilled her . " The old gods ."
" Or the people who still serve them ," Thalin said softly . " The ones who understand that truth is not just knowledge — it is power . Power your blood seems eager to awaken .
She stared at him . " My blood ?"
He hesitated . " Do you think I never noticed your memory gift ? Perfect recall is rare , child . But the ability to sense false hood — that belongs only to those descended from the keepers of the First Memory . The royal bloodline was once bound to them , before the schism ."
Elira is throat tightened . " You meant — l"
" I mean you carry something the court would kill for ," Thalin said . " Keep that knowledge close , Elira . Especially from the Prince ."
She met his gaze . " I trust him ."
" Then you are already lost ."
A dusk feast was held in the Hall of Lanterns , celebrating the renewal of trade with the Northern Provinces . The court gathered in glitter and silk , laughter as brittle as glass .
Elira stood at the far edge , fulfilling her duty as royal scribe — documenting , observing unseen . Or so she tried .
Caelum is eyes found her almost
immediately .
He was dressed in black and silver , the sigil of Darethia worked across his shoulder . To anyone else he seemed perfect composed , but she saw the subtle strain — the fatigue behind his control .
He crossed to her under the pretext of retrieving a report .
" You look uneasy ," he said softly .
" I have been warned ," she replied .
" By whom ?"
" By someone who claims to know my blood better than I do ."
He frowned . " The Archscribe ?"
She did not answer . His expression darkened .
" Elira , there are things Thalin hides from even me ."
She lifted her gaze . " Then perhaps you and I are both bound by half — truths ."
He studied her for a long moment . Then , quieter : " You are trembling ."
" I am not ."
" You are ."
She tried to pull her hand away when he reached for it — but his touch lingered , steady , grounding .
" Whatever you have learned ," he said , " do not face it alone ."
The warmth of his voice was more dangerous than any threat .
" Is that a command ?" She asked .
" A request ."
Before she could answer , a hush swept the hall .
Lady Solenne had entered , late , glittering in crimson silk . She moved like a blade wrapped in velvet . Her gaze slid to Caelum — and then to Elira .
She smiled .
" Your highness ," she purred , approaching . " A moment ?"
Caelum is hand dropped from Elira's as though burned . " Of course ."
Solenne leaned close , whispering something Elira could not hear . Whatever it was , Caelum is jaw tightened .
Then Solenne looked back at Elira and smile again — slow , deliberate .
It was a promise of ruin .
Later , when the hall had emptied and only embers flickered in the great hearth , Elira lingered alone to gather scrolls .
A faint sound behind her —fabric shifting .
She turned .
Solenne stood in the shadows , half — lit by firelight .
" You play a dangerous game , little scribe ," she said softly . " The Prince has a history of burning those who get too close ."
Elira faced her squarely . " And yet you survived ."
Solenne is laugh was soft and sharp . " Survival and victory are not the same . Remember that ."
She stepped closer . " You think your honesty will save him . But this court feeds on truth , girl . " The more you give , the hungrier it gets ."
Elira is voice was steady . " If I burn , I will make sure the light reaches you first ."
For a heartbeat , Solenne is mask slipped — something flickered in her gaze . Rage , or fear .
Then she smiled again , cold and perfect . " We shall see ."
She vanished into the dark corridor , leaving the faint scent of smoke and Jasmine .
Elira stood alone in the dying light , her pulse still racing . She looked down at her hands — ink — stained , trembling — and though of Thalin is words .
Truth is power .
And power , she now knew , came with a cost she had not yet begun to pay .
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