The sun filtered through the high-arched windows of the east wing, casting long, golden beams across the stone corridors. The palace had quieted after the spectacle of the banquet, yet tension still lingered like smoke in the air, especially for Caelia.
She hadn't been given any assignments since morning, an unusual silence in her otherwise busy schedule. Curious and bored, Caelia approached Mistress Ilena, who was organizing scrolls in the staff hallway.
"Mistress Ilena," she asked carefully, "is there any work for me today?"
The older woman paused, barely glancing up. Her tone was clipped, neutral. "No."
Caelia hesitated. "Then... may I go to the royal library?"
Mistress Ilena's lips thinned. Her pride was still bruised from being overridden by the Crown Prince at the banquet. She simply said, "I'm sure no one would chase you out."
Caelia blinked. "I...so I can go?"
A single nod.
Confused, but grateful, she offered a polite bow and left quickly before the woman could change her mind.
The royal library sat nestled in the west wing of the palace, behind grand oak doors carved with ancient runes and symbols of Karethia's long reign. Caelia had only ever heard of it from Mira, who once peeked through its doors while serving tea nearby. But nothing prepared her for the awe that bloomed in her chest as she stepped inside.
Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, painted like the night sky. Chandeliers shaped like golden constellations floated mid-air, glowing softly. Stained-glass windows filtered colored light over marble floors. The air smelled of old pages, ink, and something faintly floral; like lavender, long dried but still remembered.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she wandered deeper into the labyrinth of knowledge. Her eyes danced over spines bound in leather, silk, and even dragonhide, the titles embossed in foreign tongues and old dialects.
She reached a towering shelf in the far end and tilted her head up to admire it. A blue-bound book on one of the higher ledges caught her attention. She reached for it. Tiptoed.
The book wobbled.
Then, chaos.
A dozen books tumbled off the shelf in a loud, thunderous crash, scattering across the floor like startled birds. The sound echoed through the cavernous room like a hammer to a bell.
On the opposite side of the room, Caelum sat beside Jorik. They had come here for a private session, poring over war maps and ancient documents that recorded the movements of Karethia's old enemies. Varek had recommended the texts, but Caelum insisted on personally reviewing them himself.
Caelum had arranged this particular library from the ground up, some years back. Every book had its place. Every scroll was catalogued in his mind.
So when the silence shattered into chaos, he froze.
Jorik looked up first. "What was that?"
Both men exchanged glances and, without a word, moved swiftly toward the source of the sound.
Books scattered across the marble floor. A young woman, familiar, golden-eyed, and flushed with embarrassment, on her knees, frantically trying to gather the fallen volumes.
Caelum's steps slowed. His expression turned unreadable.
Caelia heard footsteps and looked up, eyes wide. Her heart plunged.
Of course it had to be him.
The Crown Prince stood above her, tall and silent as the grave, expression carved from stone. Beside him was the ever-watchful Jorik.
Caelum moved forward without speaking and stopped more books from falling. With precise, almost reverent motions, he began to return the books to their rightful place. Caelia, eager to help, reached for another volume, only for his cold gaze to slice through her like ice.
She froze.
This wasn't the same man who had defended her at the banquet. This was the Midnight Heir. The man everyone whispered about in hushed tones.
Jorik, noticing the tension, cleared his throat. "This is His Highness's private library."
Caelia blinked, still on the floor. "I...I didn't know. Mistress Ilena said I could go to the library, I thought..."
"She meant the palace library," Jorik said gently. "Not this one."
Her stomach dropped. Of course she would stumble her way into the prince's personal sanctuary.
"I...I apologize, Your Highness," she murmured, bowing deeply. "I'll leave now."
She turned, hoping to disappear like a shadow.
"Stay."
The single word stopped her like a slap.
She turned back slowly, confused. "Pardon?"
Even Jorik blinked in surprise. Caelum had already bent to pick up the final book. He placed it carefully on the shelf, then turned to face her fully.
"Since you're already here," Caelum said in a low voice, "you may as well learn how to sort the books properly."
Caelia stared, unsure if this was punishment or something else entirely.
Jorik stared, his mouth slightly parted. "Are... are you sure, Your Highness?"
"I don't repeat myself, Jorik," Caelum said smoothly.
"Yes, Your Highness," Jorik replied, bowing.
Caelia nodded, still flustered. She didn't understand what game the prince was playing, but something about the storm behind his silver eyes didn't feel like a game at all.
She stepped forward hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He didn't look at her again but turned toward the shelves.
Caelia followed.
Somewhere in the highest windows, the constellation chandeliers flickered brighter, as if the stars themselves were leaning closer to listen.