Chapter 64
Thalen woke before the sun. The castle was still—a kind of hush he liked.
He sat at his desk for a moment, letting the silence settle over him.
He didn’t call for help. He knew where everything was and liked his things ordered.
Then he reached for the small white flower he’d kept pressed between the pages of his map journal—a single forget-me-not he’d picked two weeks ago from the edge of the gardens and slipped it gently into the inner pocket of his coat.
His sister’s wedding had been… interesting.
That was the word adults used when they didn’t want to say too much.
There had been speeches, dancing, and a lot of nobles who looked at him like he was a particularly clever puppy.
He didn’t mind. He’d spoken to more people in one night than he usually did in a week.
His mother had tried to talk to him about it two nights before the wedding.
Not directly, of course—she never asked things that way. She’d simply lingered by his desk, straightening papers that didn’t need straightening, mentioning in that careful tone of hers that his sister had been “preoccupied lately.” Had he noticed? Had he heard anything?
Thalen had pretended not to. He’d shrugged, said something about how brides were always nervous, and changed the subject to the night markets of Varantia. She’d smiled at that, but he’d seen the worry behind her eyes.
The truth was, he did know things.
He always did.
Secrets were like birds wanting to fly away, so if you weren’t careful, you could lose them entirely. He loved his mother, but she wasn’t ready for the kinds of truths Evelyne had started chasing.
Evelyne was ready, though. Finally.
He’d seen it in her face these past weeks. And Alaric… well, Thalen suspected he’d like the treasures buried beneath the castle as much as he did. The prince had that same look in his eyes when maps were mentioned.
What made him smile, though, was Lady Vesena.
She had come to him with the idea—getting Alaric and Evelyne to work together. Thalen had listened. And then, proud as anything, he’d shared the location. A secret, even if small.
It felt good. Better than good, actually. Because Vesena hadn’t talked down to him or ruffled his hair or used that voice adults always used when they thought you didn’t understand. She’d spoken to him plainly. Just like Sir Cedric did. Like he mattered.
He smiled faintly to himself, adjusting the forget-me-not in his pocket.
He liked seeing them together—his sister and the prince. And yesterday, even with her hands trembling, Evelyne had smiled. Not the careful, court-trained one. The real one. The one he remembered from before.
It made keeping her secrets feel worth it.
Now, with dawn only just beginning to nudge the sky into color, Thalen straightened his tunic, tied his boots tight, and checked the mirror. Not bad. He looked serious enough.
Then he slipped out. The servants’ passage always felt like his secret. He fit into it perfectly, and he didn’t need light. He knew every twist and turn. He’d given Alaric his map because he memorized every hallway like a knight memorizes the weight of his blade.
He emerged near the east wing and made his way across the dew-damp stones of the castle grounds.
The guards were fewer here, a few nodded to him.
Most people were still sleeping off whatever they'd poured down their throats at the wedding feast. He also found the Silverwards trading jokes; the worst, everyone said, was behind them.
But Thalen had a goal.
He knew Evelyne’s things were being packed in the lower stables. He’d heard it yesterday and made a note of it, as he did with most things. If she was leaving for Varantia today, that meant Cedric would be nearby. And if Cedric was nearby, there was a good chance Vesena would be too.
And there they were.
They talked by the stables, talking in the kind of hushed tones adults used when something important was being said. Cedric leaned against a post, trying not to look like a soldier. Vesena stood with arms crossed, her braid trailing over one shoulder. She looked like a thunderstorm.
They didn’t notice him at first, which was fine. He liked observing people before they saw him. It made them more honest.
When he stepped into the open, the hay crunched beneath his boots. Cedric glanced over with his usual sharp look, halfway between a greeting and a security assessment. Vesena turned too, her expression warmer.
“Prince Thalen,” she greeted with a lift of her brow. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t sleep in,” he replied plainly. “Waste of good hours.”
Cedric made a low noise in his throat.
Thalen stopped a few paces from them and straightened his shoulders. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
Cedric arched one brow. “For what?”
“For your time here,” Thalen said, carefully. “For protecting my sister. You taught me how to hold a sword properly, and also that court shoes are impractical in gravel.” He hesitated, then added, “You didn’t have to be kind. But you were.”
Cedric looked like someone had just tried to knight him with a soup spoon. “I wasn’t that kind.”
Thalen caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Close enough to a smile. Almost typical Edrathen behavior.
He turned, eyes flicking to Vesena. She was watching them both with that unreadable expression she wore when she was doing ten things in her head. Thalen cleared his throat and reached into his coat pocket.
“I, um. This is for you,” he uttered, and offered the small, slightly wrinkled white forget-me-not in his open palm.
Vesena blinked, then reached forward with a gentleness Thalen didn’t know grown-ups were allowed to have.
“Where’d you get this?” she asked.
“I picked it two weeks ago. From the edge of the gardens,” he explained. “I kept it. I thought… maybe it’d be good to give you something before you leave.”
Vesena smiled—one of her real ones, the kind that reached her eyes—and reached out to ruffle his hair with her free hand.
“It’s perfect,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
Thalen, flushed and suddenly very aware that his ears were red, tried to redirect the moment. “I just wanted to say goodbye properly. You’re both leaving. And… so is Evelyne.”
That earned a surprised blink from Cedric, though he tried to mask it with a cough. Vesena, of course, just smiled wider and tucked the flower into her belt. Thalen drew in a quiet breath. Straightened his tunic again. He glanced once more at them.
The castle would feel empty tomorrow.
“Well,” Thalen said, smoothing his tunic for the third time. “I should go find my sister. She’ll be expecting a farewell.”
He offered a bow—deep and precise, nothing like the careless nods most boys his age gave. Then he pivoted, not waiting for a response, spine tall, boots striking the stone in crisp rhythm as he strode toward the rising sun.
He was halfway across the courtyard when he heard it.
“Royal Menace, wait.”
The voice arrived with a weary exhale. Thalen turned to find Cedric by the stable gate, one arm tucked behind his back. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then gave it another try.
“So—uh. Listen.”
Thalen blinked, curiosity stirring, and wandered closer.
“I just—” Cedric paused, then muttered something under his breath. “Look. You saved our asses.”
“Of course I did.”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t have,” Cedric grumbled. “I’m saying… I appreciate it. Or something like that.”
Thalen’s chest puffed slightly. His heart did something that felt both heavy and light at the same time. “Well,” he said, straightening, “you’re welcome. I like to be useful.”
“I’ve noticed,” Cedric muttered, and then without meeting his eyes he pulled something from behind his back and shoved it toward him.
It was a small wooden sword. The hilt was carved with quiet care, the wood dark and smooth from sanding. The blade edge was even dulled with a burnished finish. Practice-safe. But real.
“This is for you,” Cedric explained, still not looking at him. “So, you don’t kill yourself practicing. Or whatever.”
Thalen stared. His throat caught without warning. His vision swam for just a second. His chin quivered.
“You did this for me?” he asked, voice painfully small.
Cedric shrugged. “Don’t make it a thing.”
Too late.
Thalen launched forward and wrapped his arms around Cedric in a full, undignified, bone-tight hug. Cedric went rigid, like he’d just been struck by a slow-moving cart. After a long second, he gave Thalen two incredibly awkward pats on the top of the head.
“There you go. That’s enough.”
Thalen released him with reluctant pride and held the sword in both hands like it might hum if he listened hard enough. “Thank you,” he said, his voice cracked halfway through.
And then he turned and ran—bolting across the stables like the sword might vanish if he didn’t show someone immediately.
He’d show his mother first. Then Evelyne.
Because this—this was everything.