The Dark in the Sky
SERAPHAE
The court had been summoned nearly every day since we returned to Twilight.
Caelan, with two centuries of practiced conduct, was cracking. By third bell, he began shifting in his throne. Then he fought a yawn, failed, and converted it into a cough poorly.
I stood slightly behind the throne on his right side. Where Riven used to stand. Now it was where I stood. Riven was elsewhere, doing whatever the Captain of the Guard usually did. Or doing what Riven usually did, which was usually silently judging you from the shadows.
Advisors arranged themselves along the walls with their dark silk robes, hands folded in front of them. Their expressions neutral, murmuring quietly among themselves.
The Keeper of the Border, a gentleman dressed in pitch-black armor and a burgundy cape, was reporting on the Hollow creatures.
“…three spotted on the western road in the wildlands. Patrols have been increased.”
Caelan dragged a hand down his face. Blinked twice. He shifted again, propped his elbow on the armrest, and hooked an ankle over a knee. His cloak went lopsided during the process, but I suspected that he did not care. Even looking mildly disheveled, he still looked like he held authority.
“You’re sliding off your chair,” I leaned toward Caelan and whispered through clenched teeth and unmoving lips.
Caelan straightened marginally.
The Keeper of the Border looked up at Caelan with the expression of a man who thought he had done commendable work and was waiting for praise.
“Excellent work,” Caelan smiled and waved lazily as if the movement would help inspire more words. “Update the bulletin notices and coordinate with Commander Maelor if additional defense is needed.”
Before the Keeper of the Border could finish bowing, another advisor had stepped forward from his place along the wall.
He was an older fae with silver throughout his hair, dressed in robes of a high advisor. Midnight purple threaded with silver.
“Your Highness.” He bowed. “The people have raised concerns to the Civil Administration regarding the continued presence of a human within your guard.”
I straightened, attention sharpening.
The room grew silent. The advisors along the margins stilled, their silks no longer brushing marble.
Caelan lifted his head.
“There have been rumors,” the advisor continued, voice strained as if he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say. “That Lady Sera once tried to…harm Your Highness.”
A rush of adrenaline coursed through my body as I ran through the possibilities of how that information might have leaked.
Caelan did not look at me. His eyes remained on the advisor, posture still relaxed, completely unmoved.
“Councilor Persius.” Caelan leaned forward, the gesture more intimidating than it had any reason to be. “Surely you haven’t forgotten about the law on human inclusion. I had it passed over two seasons ago.”
“I am aware.” Persius bowed again and folded his hands in front of him. “However, the people are questioning your judgment. They do not understand why the human stands close if the rumors are—”
“Sera,” Caelan interrupted. A slight tilt of his hand in my direction. “Her name is Sera.” His eyes found me and held. A soft smile touched his lips. “Address her properly.”
I swallowed and struggled to maintain professionalism for the eight seconds he held my gaze.
“L—Lady Sera,” Persius stammered. “But it does not—”
“Did you know,” Caelan said, peeling his eyes off me and returning his attention to the paling man in front of him. “Sera and I fought against five assassins during the latest attempt? She assisted tremendously.”
I gaped at him. Assisted.
“Well—”
“I expect you to reassure the citizens that Sera is committed to my safety. You will also remind them she remains by my side because I put her there.” He smiled. “Which is not up for public debate.”
Every person in the room felt the silence that followed. The rustling of silk stopped. The murmuring stopped. The room held its breath, and so did I.
Caelan didn’t blink. He held Persius’s gaze until the man visibly swallowed.
“Of course, Your Highness.” Persius bowed before retreating out of the throne room like panicked prey that had just been noticed by a predator.
“Assisted,” I echoed under my breath.
He didn’t answer and stared straight ahead. His elbow propped on the armrest, chin cradled against his thumb, index finger tapping against his jaw thoughtfully.
Afterwards, the Magistrate of Arcane Affairs gave a report on the sky anomalies that had occurred recently with a tone that suggested they had personally offended his entire ancestry.
Then Maelor marched in without formality, like he always did. Threw me a wink, Caelan a nod, and gave his report with a swagger that suggested the throne room belonged to him on alternating days.
The balls of my feet started to hurt when the court finally finished.
I was used to lying on my stomach for hours while waiting for my mark to be alone.
I was not accustomed to standing and had developed a sincere dislike for it.
I was also wearing heels. I could wear boots.
But boots did not go well with this dress.
The doors to the throne room had just closed behind us when Caelan stopped suddenly.
I stopped just in time to narrowly avoid colliding into his back with full force. Which was something a competent personal guard would not have done if she had been paying attention to where she was going. But I had not been, because I was too busy staring at the soft waves of his hair.
“Let’s leave.” His eyes were bright with mischief.
“Leave…”
“The estate,” he said. “You and I. Let’s spend the day in the city.”
I blinked at him. “You want to take me sightseeing.”
A slow smile crossed his face as he rocked back on his heels. “Yes, I do.”
I glanced around the corridor.
The advisors were filing out of the throne room, some of them pausing just long enough to watch us with curiosity.
“You’re going to start more rumors.”
He tilted his head. “Rumors of what? That a prince went into the city under the protection of his personal guard?”
I stared at him.
He stared at me and waited.
What he said had been annoyingly believable. Which it should have been because that was exactly what it is.
“Alright,” I said. “Do we get Maelor or Riven?”
“They’re busy.” He replied quickly, spun, and proceeded down the corridor with the efficiency of a man who was very determined not to give me time to question him.
I huffed a quiet breath and followed.
There were eyes on us in the corridor.
I ignored all of them.
We walked through the city without a real destination in mind.
Caelan had changed out of his court robes for something practical and less like royalty.
This meant a black tunic, pushed up at the sleeves to reveal the serpent on his left forearm.
The ink was darker than I remembered. I hoped it meant nothing, but had the sense that it had to do with the bond deepening.
The charmed daylight had dimmed, and the lanterns that hung like stars overhead ignited simultaneously.
Banners and ribbons decorated the balconies in muted shades of purple, blue, and silver instead of the bright colors that had been used during Bright March the last time we were here.
Merchants were arguing in low, musical voices in front of a nearby stall.
The air smelled like too many worlds overlapping each other. Smoked meat, something floral and powdery drifting from a florist shop, exotic notes underneath from burning incense.
We passed by Maerith’s shop and found that it was shuttered closed. There was a notice posted on the door in careless script.
CLOSED UNTIL FROST brEAKS
Gone to Winter to expand my very legal inventory.
Blame Verdant for being petty.
If you need fortunes, curses, or bond breaking, simply suffer in uncertainty until I return.
If the cat speaks to you, pretend you didn’t hear it.
-Maerith
I frowned at it. “I keep hearing about Verdant affecting the trade.”
Caelan exhaled a sigh. “Luceris started being… selective with what comes through the borders. Most of Twilight’s magical flora unfortunately comes from Verdant.
“Prick.” It came out before I could stop it. I looked at Caelan.
He exhaled an amused laugh.
We kept walking.
Caelan greeted people without slowing, a lift of his chin here, a quiet murmur there. They watched him in a way one would watch a storm. Wary of the destruction it might cause, but equally in awe of the power it held.
I did not miss that some eyes were especially wary of us. Specifically, me.
We walked side by side, shoulders brushing. I slowed my pace to fall behind Caelan enough to look like I was actually guarding him.
He matched my pace.
I slowed again.
He matched it again, and we were looking even more suspicious than we had been three paces ago.
He tugged my elbow and pulled me closer like a man whose sole purpose was to make Twilight spin up creative rumors about us.
Two soldiers who were standing guard by the intersection noticed us immediately and straightened. Their eyes lingered on our lack of distance openly.
Caelan did not bristle. In fact, it seemed to please him tremendously, to the point of encouragement.
A blue rose was offered to Caelan by the florist’s shopkeeper, whose hair was far past the length of practical.
He thanked her and took it by the stem. Then turned and handed it to me with a smile that should not exist on a prince when interacting with staff in the middle of a public street.
I took it anyway.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I know a place that you’d like.”
I looked up at him with my nose buried in the fragrant rose.
He grinned. “It has fantastic wine.”
The Ninth Lantern was a restaurant that sat directly in front of the ninth lantern that hung along the eastern quarters.
From the outside, it was a simple two-story building with a balcony overlooking the street and a rooftop terrace. Vines crawled up the side of it, softening the rough of the brick. Lanterns hung outside the door, casting a golden glow across the double wooden doors.