Chapter 21 Rumours Has It Owns

Chapter 21 Rumours Has It Owns
The city swallowed me again on the way back. I didn’t head straight up to the palace. My feet chose another route, one I knew by heart: a narrow alley that bent toward the Night Keep, the old tower clinging to the palace like a shadow no one ever bothered to cut away.
The Night Keep stood a little apart from the main building, its stones darker, its windows slit-thin, its roof rising to sharp points. It had once been Evrithall’s first fortress before the white palace was built. Now people called it the old library and pretended to forget how many secrets had been locked into its walls.
The side door that led to the lower archives never truly latched if you knew which corner to press. I slipped in, hugging the shadows as a guard turned away. The smell of damp paper and lamp oil met me the moment I stepped inside. Air in the Night Keep always felt colder, denser, as if the words in those books added weight.
A spiral staircase carried me down into a space only slightly brighter than a nightmare. Tall shelves lined up in rows, packed with leather-bound volumes, scrolls, small wooden boxes sealed with wax. In one corner stood a wooden door banded with old iron, its padlock hanging open, empty. The priests believed that was enough to stop people.
The small key I kept at my waist chilled my skin as I used it. The click was barely a sound.
The little room beyond held texts they called “unsuitable for young devotees.”
Which, of course, meant they were perfect for me.
The first shelf brimmed with notes on the First Breaths and Vessaryn. I pulled out a thin black book, its lettering faded on the spine, but still readable: Nyxthra and the First Fracture.
Another volume followed: Vessaryn: The Lost Rift.
On the lower shelf, a thicker book displayed drawings of creatures never mentioned in ordinary lessons.
I slid it free.
The first page showed something like a water-human, except its eyes were too large, the pupils stretched long like a fish’s. Its hair floated around its head not because of water, but because gravity refused to hold it. In the margin, someone had written: Nerissae: wardens of the deep paths of Neryon, singing in the currents, trading human breath for whispered secrets.
Another page: Syr-nyr, shallow-sea things that could crack the surface of water into a doorway; their voices made people forget where home was. Their bodies were translucent, bones gleaming like spoiled pearls.
Then: Velkraith, finned shadows gliding beneath ships, sometimes rising as black hands that tried to drag passengers into the sea.
There were creatures of air too: Aeralune, winged serpents coiling around tower peaks, their skins like glass that reflected stars even in daylight.
And river creatures: Lurielle, water spirits that wore village girls’ bodies to dance at the edge of the current, leaving mud prints that didn’t fade for a week.
I slipped the two books into the small cloth satchel I’d brought, along with two volumes on the First Breaths. The bag grew heavy, but it was the kind of heavy I liked. Heavy that meant answers.
On the way out, I paused in the Night Keep’s main corridor and looked toward the staircase leading up to the reading rooms. Yesterday, I’d sat in a high wooden chair there, reading a dark red book about an enemy guard who kissed someone on the stairs. That was where Zade had caught me, one hand on the cover, cheeks burning, eyes full of challenge.
I frowned up at those steps like it was their fault.
“Enough,” I muttered to the stone, and headed back to the side door.
Leaving the Night Keep, I slipped into the alley that connected it to the palace’s outer wall. Hardly anyone used it. Too narrow for carriages, too bleak for afternoon walks. Perfect.
My climb back up followed the same route as earlier: the side wall, the stone drainage pipe, the small balcony, the window left slightly open. My hands and feet moved on their own, remembering holds, judging distance.
This time, the cloth satchel on my shoulder made it harder. The strap pressed into my collarbone, and the muscles in my neck protested. Still, I made it into the inner corridor without a sound besides my own breathing.
The sun had dipped a little, turning the light in the hallways to honey. Servants started lighting torches along the walls. I chose the narrow corridor in the west wing, a shortcut to my room that passed a small inner courtyard and a row of training rooms Gerald sometimes used.
That was my mistake.
The moment I stepped into the little stone courtyard, with its shallow pool in the center and a few half-eroded statues of gods circling it, I almost tripped over something that was not stone at all.
Not something. Someone.
I stopped too fast. The satchel shifted on my shoulder. The books inside jolted, knocking against my ribs.
By the pool, beneath the shadow of a small tree thick with leaves, Zade Thalorian sat on a low stone chair like the seat had belonged to his family since Thaldrun was nothing but its first row of rocks.
I swallowed a curse.
He wasn’t wearing armor this time. Just a black shirt too thin to hide anything, clinging to his chest and arms like a second shadow, and dark training pants built for movement. His hair was still a mess, worse than at lunch, a few strands stuck to his temples like sweat had only just dried.
On his right arm, beneath the edge of the shirt sleeve, something darker than his skin showed through: black lines, a stylized wing shape curling from shoulder to upper arm.
A tattoo. Fire frozen into ink. From this distance it looked like the tongues of some ancient god coiling around his bones.
He leaned forward slightly, one elbow braced on his knee, an unfurled scroll in his hand. Across from him stood a Solarian in uniform without full armor, only a white cloak bearing the sun emblem. Rough face, two-day beard, eyes sharp as a blade.
Captain Aegis, my mind supplied. Front line of Thaldrun. They called them the Aegis Guard, the wall’s first and last shield. This captain, if I remembered right, was named Daren Voss. Gerald had mentioned him once while half drunk.
I stepped back, then slid behind a half-crumbled pillar near the doorway. Cold stone pressed against my spine. Through a narrow gap, I could watch them without being clearly seen.
Of course. The last two days, every time I tried to put distance between myself and Thalorian, the world decided to shove us into the same room.
“…the night rotation is too thin,” Daren’s voice reached me. Heavy. Tired. “If Morvane comes twice in one week, those new kids won’t hold.”
“Those new kids shouldn’t be placed on the north side yet,” Zade answered without looking up from the scroll. “The north tastes Nyxthrad first. That place isn’t for anyone who still thinks war is like drills in the yard. Rotate them west. Near the water tower. If something comes from there, we have time.”
“And you?” Daren asked. “I need one lunatic who can stand in the north without running.”
“I’ll be there,” Zade said flatly. “Tell Gerald if he wants to replace me, he can come himself.”
Daren snorted. “The Commander has other things on his mind right now. Capital guards, envoys, the rite, the princess…”
“You heard about the Princess’s new personal guard?” Zade asked, still reading the scroll, like he’d tossed the question into the air.
My heart shifted toward the pillar. My hearing sharpened.
“Heard it from a young priest who likes gossip too much,” Daren replied. “Capital boys. Straight backs, polished manners, prayers memorized. Not sure they know how to hit someone without apologizing.”
Zade folded the scroll and set it on his knee. “They’re forged to be displayed in corridors. Not everyone is trained to look at Nyxthrad and keep their mind intact.”
“Good thing the Princess doesn’t live on the wall,” Daren muttered.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Zade returned. His gaze lifted, resting on the pool for a moment. “She looks at the wall more often than most people who live beneath it.”
Something in his voice made the skin at the back of my neck prickle.
“The Duke decided you stay outside,” Daren shifted slightly. “Some people thought you’d be pulled inside, pinned to his niece’s shoulder through the rite.”
I almost dropped the satchel.
Good. So it wasn’t only the Solarian on the wall who enjoyed debating my life like it was a board game.
“You have a lot of free time if you can think about gossip like that,” Zade remarked.
“I need something to keep night watch from feeling like I’m sitting in a graveyard.”
Zade lifted one shoulder. “The King in the capital wants the envoys to feel safe near the Princess. Putting Thalorian blood behind Valtheris blood makes too many old scrolls hiss. Especially the ones still written in primal with gold ink.”
Daren squinted at him. “You offended?”
“I’m grateful,” Zade said calmly. “Guarding the wall is more honest than guarding someone who collects hobbies like jumping out windows.”
Heat rushed up my face.
Listen to your own words, Thalorian.
“I saw you two earlier in the hall,” Daren said, like he was tasting the memory. “You looked… like you were enjoying the job of escorting a lion back into its cage.”
Zade looked at him now. The tattoo on his arm shifted as muscle tightened. “If you want to live long enough to see the next rite, you should choose your words more carefully.”
“I’m only observing.” Daren raised a hand. “You’re not a man who puts his hand on people’s waists, Zade. And the Princess isn’t the sort who lets anyone get that close without biting.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. The world seemed obsessed with replaying that scene.
“The Duke knows,” Daren went on. “He isn’t blind. That’s why he didn’t put you behind her. He doesn’t want your Thalorian-Aeshar line and the Valtheris line burning each other alive at the altar. People are scared enough of the First Breaths without watching two of their descendants stare at each other like…”
“Like what?” Zade cut in, his voice dropping a notch.
“Like something that happened before any of us were born,” Daren said quietly. “And is trying to happen again.”