The attic was colder than Kaelen remembered. Dust clung to the beams like cobwebs of forgotten time, and the air carried the faint scent of dry ink and rosewater.
He stood in front of the cracked mirror, studying his reflection: silver-black hair, violet eyes still glowing faintly from last night's magic. The Throneblood mark on his collarbone pulsed like a second heartbeat, and below it, the Roman numeral:
XIV.
Two years already burned.
"Focus." He dragged his fingers through his hair. "You've lived this once. You know how this plays out."
A soft knock on the door.
"Kael? You awake?"
Elaine. Of course.
He opened the door slowly. She looked the same—sharp green eyes, messy braid, smudge of flour on her cheek.
"You missed morning prep."
"Couldn't sleep."
She raised a brow. "The Kaelen I know could sleep through a riot."
He hesitated. Then, calmly: "We need to talk."
They found a quiet alcove between the scullery and the laundry wing. Kaelen double-checked the shadows—paranoia or instinct, he couldn't tell.
Elaine crossed her arms. "Alright. Out with it."
He looked her in the eye. "Do you trust me?"
She blinked. "That's your opening line?"
"I need to know."
A pause. Then she exhaled. "I trust you, Kael... but I also know you. You act first and bleed later. If you're planning something stupid—"
"I'm planning to live." His tone sharpened. "Which means I can't play by their rules anymore."
She studied him for a long moment. "This is about the princes' court, isn't it? The power games? Kael... I heard something. Alric collapsed during training. His hand seized up."
Kaelen didn't flinch. "What a shame."
Elaine narrowed her eyes. "They're saying someone poisoned his gloves. Dain's got the armory under lockdown. If they trace it—"
"They won't."
A beat.
"Gods, you did it." Her voice dropped. "Kaelen, what the hell are you becoming?"
He looked away. "Exactly what they always feared I would."
Later that night, Kaelen slipped into the old observatory tower—once used by stargazers, now abandoned to dust and silence.
He lit three candles and spread out the scrolls from the hidden archive: names, trade routes, records of bribes. And the note that had appeared in the Solar that morning, slipped between the folds of his linens:
You are not the first.
But you may be the last who matters.
It was written in the same hand as the woman's last message. He turned it over. On the back, just three words:
"The King Knows."
His jaw tightened. King Orric. Always watching from above, always three moves ahead.
Kaelen unrolled the merchant ledger he'd stolen from the Solar's secret compartment. Markings in Alric's own cipher—proof of dealings with southern lords, months before the war began.
"You wanted proof, Father?" Kaelen murmured. "Try this."
Then he paused. The candlelight flickered—and the shadows behind him shifted.
She stood there.
Ivory mask. Crimson robes. No sound of footsteps. No scent of perfume. Just presence.
"I thought you'd be back," she said.
He didn't startle. "You knew I'd come here?"
She tilted her head. "I built this room."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "You've done this before."
The mask nodded once.
"Every piece you move leaves blood on your hands. I warned you."
"And you didn't answer my question. Who are you?"
A pause. Then:"A former player. One who lost."Her fingers brushed the candle. The flame flared violet."And one who still remembers the rules."
Kaelen stepped forward. "Then tell me how to break them."
She tilted her head. "Why would I help you?"
He met her gaze—mask or not, he felt it."Because the Throne didn't just take from me. It took from you too."
Something flickered behind the mask. A breath. A memory.
Then she was gone—melted into mist once more.
Back in his chamber, Kaelen sat by the window and watched the torches light up the palace walls.
Somewhere below, Alric nursed a useless hand.
Somewhere above, the king sharpened his crown.
And in the space between them, the masked woman waited. Watching.
Kaelen reached for the silver ring hidden beneath his sleeve. The one his mother left behind. The one Alric once tried to steal.
He slipped it on.
"You took everything," he whispered to the stars."Now I take the board."
The game was no longer beginning.
It was already underway.