The rain had been falling for three days without pause, turning the streets of the Capitol into a slick mosaic of puddles and streaming gutters. The storm had driven away the usual vibrancy of the city, muting the chatter of markets and silencing the music that usually floated through the high balconies of the noble district. The weather was an inconvenience to most, but to Princess Aeryn it was an advantage. The rain offered cover. It kept her out of the public eye while she planned her next move, one that would draw her closer to the Seeker without attracting the attention of the Council or her rivals for the throne.
She stood at the wide arched window of her private quarters, watching the heavy drops blur the outlines of the distant palace gates. Beyond those gates the rest of the Capitol seethed with rumor. Word of the battle between the Seeker and Elara's forces had traveled faster than any messenger could carry it. Every merchant, guard, and street performer seemed to have their own embellished version of what had happened. Some spoke of the Seeker as a monstrous force, a shadow given flesh. Others whispered that he had spared certain foes, hinting at a code of honor that made him more than a simple destroyer. Aeryn had heard every variation, and she believed that somewhere among them lay the truth.
Her reflection in the rain-streaked glass looked more like a phantom than a princess. Her long hair hung loose, darkened to nearly black in the storm's dim light. Her gown was a muted shade of deep blue rather than the radiant colors she wore in court. She had dressed deliberately to blend into the gloom, not to draw attention. Today she would walk the city without her usual retinue. She needed to hear the rumors with her own ears, not through the polished words of advisors who filtered everything to protect her reputation.
Aeryn turned from the window and crossed to the low table where her attendant had left a tray. The tea had gone cold, but she drank it anyway, her thoughts elsewhere. The Seeker. Kaelen. Even his true name had begun to surface in whispered conversations, a name the Council would prefer to keep buried. They feared him for what he represented, a weapon they could not fully control. That alone made him worth watching. In Aeryn's mind, he was no longer simply a dangerous outcast. He was a variable in the shifting balance of power, and if she could align herself with him, or even understand what drove him, it might give her the edge she needed against her rivals.
By mid-morning, she had changed into a traveling cloak with a deep hood. The palace guards barely noticed her departure, assuming she was merely visiting the inner gardens or the archives. She moved quickly through the quieter corridors, avoiding the main gates in favor of a servants' exit that led into the lower tiers of the city. Here the stone streets were narrower, the buildings older and leaning together like conspirators. The rain drummed on rooftops and splashed from overflowing gutters, masking her footsteps.
She stopped first at a tea shop that had always been a center for overheard conversations. The shopkeeper knew her only as a noblewoman from the palace district, never questioning her identity. Inside, the warmth and scent of spiced tea made the place feel like another world. She took a corner seat, keeping her hood low, and listened.
A pair of older men near the hearth were speaking in low voices. One claimed to have seen the Seeker with his own eyes, describing him as a figure wreathed in dark energy that shattered steel on contact. The other countered that he had heard from a friend in the outer watch that the Seeker had not struck first, that he had been provoked. Aeryn's mind catalogued each detail. Another table spoke of Elara's defeat in hushed tones, as though speaking too loudly might invite her wrath. None of them seemed certain whether the Seeker was enemy or savior.
Leaving the shop, Aeryn moved deeper into the merchant quarter. She passed stalls selling storm-soaked fruit and bolts of damp cloth, each vendor trying to outshout the rain. Near the covered archway that led toward the river docks, she found a street performer singing a ballad already inspired by the recent battle. The song painted the Seeker as a tragic hero, a lone figure standing against overwhelming odds. It was romanticized beyond belief, yet it revealed something important. The people wanted to believe in him. That desire could be shaped, directed. If the common folk began to see the Seeker as a hero rather than a threat, the Council would lose its grip on the narrative.
By midday, Aeryn had returned to the palace through the same side route, her cloak heavy with rain. She did not change or dry herself immediately. Instead, she went straight to her private study, where a map of the realm lay unrolled on the central desk. She traced her finger from the Capitol to the region where the battle had been fought, considering the supply lines, the political boundaries, and the movements of loyalist and dissident forces. If Kaelen intended to strike again, there were only a handful of logical targets. But she doubted he would follow logic alone. He was unpredictable by design.
The storm grew heavier into the evening, thunder rumbling over the rooftops. Aeryn called for her most trusted attendant, a quiet young woman named Lira, and gave her a list of names. "I want eyes on these people," she said softly, tapping the parchment. "They are merchants, guards, and lesser nobles who have spoken of the Seeker in favorable terms. Find out who they meet, what they say, and whether they can be approached discreetly." Lira accepted the task without question and left as silently as she had come.
Night fell, but Aeryn's mind remained restless. She stood again at the window, watching the city lights blur in the rain. Somewhere out there, Kaelen was moving, planning, fighting. The battle had proven his strength. The Capitol's whispers had revealed the beginnings of his influence. And now she had to decide how far she was willing to go to bring that influence into her own sphere. The Seeker was not the kind of man one could simply order to heel. If she wanted him as an ally, she would need to meet him as an equal. That meant finding him before her rivals did, and before the Council decided to erase him entirely.
Aeryn turned away from the window and began to write. The letter was not addressed to Kaelen by name, nor did it carry any identifying marks of her station. It was written in careful, measured words that hinted at shared goals and mutual benefit. She did not know if it would reach him, but she intended to send it through channels that would pass far beneath the Council's notice. As she sealed the letter with plain wax, she felt the stirrings of something dangerous. This was no longer simple political maneuvering. This was stepping into the storm itself, reaching for a force that could either secure her claim to the throne or destroy her entirely.
When she finally allowed herself to rest, the rain was still falling. It drummed against the palace walls like a heartbeat, steady and relentless. Aeryn closed her eyes and imagined the moment she would finally stand face to face with the Seeker. Not in court, not surrounded by guards or courtiers, but somewhere between battle and shadow, where titles and crowns meant nothing and only the truth of power remained.