The silence between us was a physical weight. I could feel the heat of Stephen's finger near my throat, a phantom touch that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Behind him, Sonia and Sandy were fumbling with their laces, oblivious to the fact that their tailor was currently being dissected by the most dangerous man in Orizon.
"I... I don't understand, Highness," I stammered. My voice sounded thin, reedy. I squeezed the Essence-thread in my palm until the glow nearly bled through my skin. "I'm just a tailor. Perhaps the smog of the Foundry is dulling your senses?"
Stephen's eyes darkened. A small, cruel smile touched the corner of his mouth—not a smile of joy, but the smile of a cat that had found a particularly clever mouse.
"The smog does not silence a heart, Gloria," he said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to hum in my very bones. "Every soul has a rhythm. Every spark of magic has a frequency. Even the mundane have a dull, thumping pulse that irritates my ears like a drum."
He leaned in closer, his breath cool against my cheek. "But you are a pocket of absolute stillness. It's almost... peaceful. Or it would be, if it weren't impossible."
"I have a heart," I whispered, my pulse actually thundering in my ears, though apparently, he couldn't hear it. "I assure you, I am quite alive."
"Are you?" He finally let his finger touch the skin of my jaw.
His touch was like ice and electricity combined. I expected him to feel the 'Void'—to feel the emptiness where my Resonance should be. But instead, a jolt of pure, white-hot energy snapped between us.
Stephen flinched, pulling his hand back as if he'd been burned. He stared at his gloved hand, then back at me, his expression shifting from suspicion to genuine shock.
For a second, the 'Resonance Meter' on the shop wall didn't just jump—it shattered. The glass casing exploded outward, shards of crystal raining down onto the cutting table.
"Oh! My heavens!" Sonia shrieked, clutching her half-finished bodice to her chest. "Stephen, what have you done? That was a genuine Gilded-Age meter!"
Stephen didn't look at his cousin. He was staring at the spot where he'd touched me. I could see his chest rising and falling faster now. Whatever he had 'heard'—or hadn't heard—it had clearly just been overwritten by that strange, violent spark.
"My apologies, Lady Sonia," Stephen said, his voice tight, his eyes never leaving mine. "It seems my Resonance is... restless today."
"Restless? You nearly took my eye out with a glass shard!" Sandy huffed, stepping out of her gown and reaching for her day dress. "Honestly, Stephen, just because you're the Shadow doesn't mean you can go around breaking things. This shop is dreary enough as it is."
"Leave," Stephen commanded.
"But the fittings—"
"Leave. Now," he barked.
The twins didn't argue a second time. They scrambled into their outer layers, grabbed their silk wraps, and bolted out the door, the silver chime ringing frantically in their wake.
The moment the door slammed shut, the atmosphere in the room turned lethal. Kia, who had been standing in the shadows with the iron shears, took a step forward, her eyes glowing with a faint, flickering orange light.
"Kia, no," I hissed, not looking away from the Prince.
"Your friend is a Spark," Stephen said, his voice returning to that bored, dangerous calm. He didn't even look at her. "If she takes another step, I will silence her heart before she can draw a breath. Sit down, girl."
Kia froze, her jaw tightening, but she didn't sit. She stayed like a coiled spring.
Stephen turned back to me. He reached out and grabbed my hand—the one clutching the stolen Essence-thread. He forced my fingers open, revealing the shimmering violet spool.
"Essence-thread," he noted, his voice flat. "Stolen from an Elite carriage, no doubt. You were using it to mask your signature. To make the meters think you were a Loomer."
"I was using it because I don't want to die in a cage!" I snapped, my fear finally turning into the sharp, jagged edge of anger. I stopped trying to act like a humble tailor. If I was going to die, I wasn't going to do it bowing. "You Elites walk around with the sun in your pockets, and you wonder why we try to steal a few crumbs of light? I'm a Mute. So what? I haven't hurt anyone. I just want to sew my dresses and live my life."
Stephen looked down at the thread, then back at the shattered meter on the wall.
"A Mute wouldn't have caused that meter to explode, Gloria," he said softly. "A Mute is an absence. That... that was an overflow."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to pull my hand away, but his grip was like iron.
"Neither do I," he admitted, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of something human in his eyes. Not the Prince, not the Shadow—just a man who was deeply, fundamentally confused. "But my father's Silencers are three blocks away, conducting a sweep. If they come in here and find a girl who makes the Silence scream... they won't just kill you. They'll take you to the Spire for 'study.'"
I felt the blood drain from my face. The Spire was where the "Broken" went. No one ever came back.
"Why are you telling me this?" I whispered. "You're the King's Enforcer. Just do your job."
Stephen looked at the door, then back at me. He leaned down, his face inches from mine again.
"Because for the first time in twenty years, the world went quiet for a moment," he said, his voice a haunting rasp. "And I think I'd like to find out why."
He let go of my hand and stood up, smoothing the front of his black doublet.
"Get rid of that thread. Hide your friend. And if you're smart, Gloria the Tailor, you'll leave the city tonight."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" I called out.
He stopped, his hand on the latch. He didn't turn around.
"Why couldn't you hear my heart?" I asked.
Stephen was silent for a long moment. "I could," he said finally, his voice barely audible over the distant roar of the Foundry's furnaces. "But it wasn't beating for the world, Gloria. It was beating for itself."
He stepped out into the smog, and the silver chime rang one last time, sounding remarkably like a funeral bell.
"We have to go," Kia said, the shears clattering to the floor. She was shaking. "Gloria, he's right. If the Silencers are doing a sweep, and the Prince just walked out of here looking like he saw a ghost..."
"I can't go," I said, staring at the shattered glass of the meter.
"What do you mean you can't go? He basically gave us a head start! We can get to the docks, find a smuggler—"
"I have the dresses, Kia," I said, looking at the mannequins. "Sonia and Sandy didn't take them. If I leave now, I'm a fugitive. If I stay and deliver them to the palace tomorrow, I'm just a tailor who had a weird encounter with a Prince."
"You're insane," Kia breathed. "He touched you and the room literally exploded!"
"Exactly," I said, a strange, reckless idea beginning to take root in my mind. "He's curious. And as long as he's curious, he's not killing me. I've spent my whole life hiding, Kia. Maybe it's time I started woven myself into the story instead of just the seams."
I looked at the Essence-thread in my hand. It was dull again, just a bit of purple string. But my skin where Stephen had touched me... it was still tingling.
I wasn't a Mute. Not according to that meter.
"I'm going to the Palace," I said. "And you're coming with me as my assistant."
Kia looked at the smoldering ruins of our shop, then at me. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
"Probably," I said, reaching for a fresh needle. "But at least your eyebrows will have time to grow back."