30. Caelum
I didn't sleep after Rowan left.
Not properly.
My body stayed in bed, still, obedient in appearance, but my mind didn't stay anywhere near it.
It kept circling.
The documents.
The missing records.
The word involved sitting inside my head like a stain that refused to fade.
And Rowan's face when he said it, steady, controlled, careful in a way that meant he had seen something he didn't fully understand yet.
By morning, I had made a decision I didn't announce to anyone.
That was the difference between being a prince and being a king.
One asked for permission.
The other already knew where to look.
My uncle's wing was quiet when I arrived.
Too quiet.
Not the absence of life...more like life deliberately softened so it wouldn't be noticed.
He was expecting me.
That much was obvious.
People like him always expect consequences.
They just rarely expect them to arrive in person.
He was in his office again.
Same chair.
Same posture.
Same careful calm that now irritated me more than it reassured anything.
He looked up when I entered.
Not surprised.
Not startled.
Just... resigned.
"So," he said softly. "You've found pieces."
I closed the door behind me.
Didn't sit.
Didn't speak immediately.
I let the silence sit between us first.
Let it press.
Let it expose whatever needed to break.
"You lied to me," I said finally.
He exhaled slowly.
"No I just...omitted things."
"That is still lying."
A faint, tired expression crossed his face.
"Yes," he admitted. "It is."
That honesty threw me slightly.
Not because it was unexpected...but because it wasn't defensive.
I stepped closer.
"Start talking."
He studied me for a moment.
Then nodded once.
Like he had been waiting for this exact version of me for a long time.
"You've been looking at the records," he said.
"I've been looking at what doesn't exist."
"That's the more important part," he murmured.
My jaw tightened.
"Explain."
He leaned back slightly.
Not relaxed.
Just... preparing.
"Your father," he said carefully, "was not the first to sit on that throne while being controlled by it."
I didn't respond.
But something inside me shifted.
He continued anyway.
"Power in this kingdom doesn't end at the crown. It never has."
I folded my arms slowly.
"Get to the point."
A pause.
Then...
"He was trapped," my uncle said.
That made my breath slow slightly.
Not outward reaction.
Just internal recalibration.
"Trapped," I repeated.
"Yes."
"In what?"
My uncle looked down at the desk briefly.
Like he didn't enjoy the memory of what he was about to say.
"Expectation," he said. "Legacy. A system older than any of us."
"That is not new," I said flatly.
"No," he agreed. "But what was done to him was."
Silence.
My chest tightened slightly.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something sharper.
"He loved someone," my uncle said quietly.
That made me pause.
"...What?"
He nodded once.
"Yes."
I didn't move.
Because that sentence changed the shape of everything I thought I knew.
"And the system didn't approve," he added.
I stared at him.
Hard.
"Explain," I said again.
He exhaled.
"Your father was never meant to live freely. Not in the way you assume he did."
My fingers tightened slightly at my sides.
"He fell in love with a male omega, outside of expectation. Outside of alliance structure. Outside of what the council deemed... stable."
I didn't speak.
Because I didn't know where to put that information yet.
"And?" I asked finally.
My uncle's gaze lifted.
Something in it softened slightly.
Not enough to excuse anything.
But enough to show it had cost him something to say this.
"So we made a decision."
Silence.
My throat tightened slightly.
"What decision."
His voice lowered.
"Your father, myself, and the person he loved... we designed a narrative."
I frowned.
"A controlled destabilisation," he continued. "A fabricated tragedy. A situation severe enough to remove emotional attachments and redirect political pressure."
My mind tried to process that.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"You are saying," I said slowly, "that my mother and sister..."
"No," he interrupted quickly.
His voice sharpened for the first time.
"No."
A pause.
Then softer again.
"Not them."
That confusion hit harder than anything else.
"Then what?" I asked.
He looked down again.
Longer this time.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
More tired.
"The intention was never harm," he said. "It was separation."
I didn't understand.
Not fully.
Not yet.
"Separation from what?" I asked.
His answer came slower.
"From expectation. From pressure. From the crown as a binding force rather than a role."
My chest tightened slightly.
"You're saying this was done to... free him."
"Yes."
Silence.
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
Not clarity.
Something worse.
"And it failed," I said quietly.
My uncle didn't answer immediately.
That silence was enough.
"People acted outside the intended design," he said finally. "Things escalated beyond control."
I stepped closer again.
My voice dropped.
"Who acted."
He hesitated.
Just briefly.
Then...
"Those who believed control meant ownership..."
That wasn't an answer.
But it was enough to form shape around.
I stared at him.
Then spoke slowly.
"So my father wasn't the architect."
"No," my uncle said quietly."He was part of it."
My jaw tightened.
"And so were you."
A pause.
Then...
"Yes."
No denial.
No deflection.
Just acceptance.
That should have made me furious.
But instead...
it made everything inside me go still.
Because that meant the system wasn't outside my family.
It was inside it.
"You destroyed lives," I said quietly.
My uncle flinched slightly at that.
Barely.
But I saw it.
"Yes," he admitted.
Then softer:
"And I have lived with that longer than you have been alive."
Silence.
I didn't know what to do with that.
Not yet.
My uncle leaned forward slightly.
"And before you decide what to do with me," he said quietly, "you should know something else."
I didn't respond.
"This did not stop with your father," he added.
My body tensed slightly.
"It continued," he said. "It evolved. And now it is still in motion."
My mind immediately went to Rowan.
To the documents.
To the missing records.
To the way his name sat outside systems like he had been placed there deliberately.
"...Rowan," I said quietly.
My uncle studied me carefully.
Then nodded once.
"You are not the first to be caught in this," he said.
My breath slowed slightly.
"And I assume I will not be the last," I replied.
"No," he said softly.
Silence.
Then something unexpected happened.
He stood.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And for the first time since I entered the room...
he looked... human.
"I am sorry," he said.
The words didn't fit him.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not because they were impossible.
But because they were late.
Too late.
Carried too long.
I stared at him.
Not reacting immediately.
Because apologies like that don't ask for forgiveness.
They just exist.
"For what," I asked finally.
He exhaled.
"For thinking control would ever be clean."
Silence.
"For believing I could structure suffering into something acceptable," he added quietly. "And for thinking you would not have to inherit the consequences."
My throat tightened slightly.
Not emotion.
Something more complicated.
"You don't get to decide what I inherit," I said quietly.
"No," he agreed immediately.
"That was always the problem."
Silence settled between us again.
But this time...
it wasn't empty.
It was full of everything neither of us had handled correctly.
I turned toward the door.
Then paused.
Without looking back, I said:
"If you are still lying to me, I will find out."
"I know," he replied softly.
I left.
And for the first time since Rowan told me what he found...
I didn't feel like I was standing at the centre of a mystery.
I felt like I was standing inside the aftermath of a mistake that had never stopped moving.